Dallin Malmgren's Blog, page 31

What I Endorse

Ran out of raspberries (Photo by D)

This writing exercise (which I stole from Esquire magazine) always worked well in my Creative Writing classes. I think I know why—it is fun to think about stuff that you like. Of course, I used to do my list with my students, but I no longer remember what I put. This is my list from now.

1) Raspberries – Aren’t they the greatest? You can put them in yogurt, cereal, fruit salad and all kinds of desserts. I still eat them by themselves.

2) Titleist golf balls – I don’t think there’s anything necessarily superior in quality, at least for a golfer of my level. It just feels good looking down on one—maybe it’s the font.

3) Pedometers – or Fitbits or Garmins or watches or whatever you use to measure how many steps you take in a day. As long as you’re moving, you know you’re alive. Don’t get too caught up in your goal—I will never be obsessed with a number again.

4) An Old-Fashioned – my favorite drink. Ice, bourbon, simple sugar, an orange slice, maraschino cherry, Angostura bitters. I have a separate essay planned for this one.

5) Vinyl – I don’t own any. But I watch my son handle records lovingly, and it reminds me of my earliest music awareness years, and it warms my heart.

6) Public libraries – a wonderful sign of civilization.

7) Symbols, icons, good luck charms – Let me be clear—I think it is delusional to attach any spiritual or supernatural power to them (inanimate objects)—but I had a counseling session with a pastor once, and he gave me a sandalwood cross, and I like the feel of it in my pocket.

8) Pistachio nuts – Anybody remember the red ones? The ones that stained your hands. I loved them! But the natural ones are fine. I’ll bet there was something about the chemicals. What I like is that you have to work a little for the payoff.

9) The Week – We get about five, but this is the only magazine I commit to. I do Editor’s Note, Political Cartoons, Television, Movies, Music, Books, and then leaf through the news stuff. Objective news has become an anomaly, but they try to stay balanced.

10) USPS – because I root for the underdog. How can you not feel sorry for a company whose number one product is called “snail mail”? But they try. Honestly, I have met some pretty cheerful people at the Post Office (behind the desk, not in line).

11) Polar bears – I love seeing polar bears at the zoo, but they just seem so out of place. The world is becoming their zoo.

12) Ceramic knives – Have you seen those suckers? First of all, they are white. They make anyone feel like a chef. They are sharp, and you never have to sharpen them. They make my fingers nervous, but in a careful way. There is nothing better for cutting up fruits and vegetables.

13) Barbecuing – My favorite way to cook (and I am not even good at it). The first rule of barbecue is: Never leave your meat—which means attentiveness—which is a weakness of mine. Ah, but the ambience of the back porch, and when you do get the meat (or whatever) just right—a taste of heaven!

14) The smell of a freshly mowed lawn – I hired someone to mow our lawn this year—never done that before. Damn if it doesn’t smell even better!

15) A cold beer on a hot day – Beer is seasonal—I can hear a chorus of disagreement—to me. The idea of coming in from the cold to open a beer is incongruous. However, when I have finished 18 holes in the middle of summer in Dallas, the sensation of the first taste is beyond exquisite.

Like I said, fun to write. Several of my items might seem worldly, but worldly is as worldly does. I look at my list and I sense God’s pleasure. I don’t like those performers who try to get their audience to sing or clap along, but if any reader wanted to share a few endorsements with me, I’d be very pleased—always looking for new things to enjoy.

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“I am with you always…”

Artwork by Becky Sanchez

The number one thing that people (including many Christians) don’t get about Christianity is that Jesus is right here, right now. Imagine that! Put Him in the chair next to you, or have him ride shotgun (or in the back, He doesn’t mind), join Him on the back porch, leave room for Him on the sofa during a game, prepare a meal (any meal, He doesn’t care—well, within reason), or just pray. “I am with you always.” We have no idea how great He is to have around.

Developing a deeper sense of His presence is my strongest desire. Why not? He has put up with me all these years, witnessed every single event, and He still loves and enjoys me. Who wouldn’t want to hang out with someone like that?

We realize quickly that we can’t will Him here or fake His presence. He is not with us to help us put on a show or impress other people. And He is not with us to manipulate this world to our own advantage. Praying for money is ridiculous. As far as I can figure out, He just wants to make us better than who we are now. And He knows how.

The wonderfully freeing thing is that we can be ourselves with Him—warts and all, good and bad, whatever comes into my mind. I have to watch what I say to my wife (every decent husband knows that)…but I don’t even have to worry about what I think to my Lord. Besides the obvious, two other words are frequently connected to our Lord’s attitude toward us: forgiveness and grace. That is like a blank check for a friendship. The lowest common denominator is to think: I can do whatever I want because He forgives and favors me. Really? I had a girlfriend once who I didn’t love but she adored me—it felt good for about three weeks. The whole point is for our love to become reciprocal.

Not that I have attained—ah, the dryness. I can re-read all that I am writing now in two days, during a low period, and think: What a load of crap I am foisting on people! That’s why words like perseverance and endurance and long-suffering appear so often. You don’t take a pill and pop on to the set of Basking in the Divine Presence. Saul of Tarsus? Don’t know—can’t explain—special mission, maybe? In my life, the change seems to be gradual. Sunlight mixed with rain—learning to appreciate the rain.

But I have also experienced the joy of knowing He is here. Inexpressible. The little beauties everyone sees: the dew on a rose, the reflection on a lake, the sighting of a hawk, the sound of the rain—those are his greeting cards, His invitations. I want to learn to love Him unabashedly. Without reservation. We don’t need to witness, we need to learn to abide (and He will witness). The calling is different now. We live in a post-Christian world. Everyone has heard of Jesus. They need to see Him—hello, body of Christ? I used to love seeing those rubber bracelets: WWJD (What would Jesus do?) Now we need to move beyond that: WDYWMTD? It doesn’t make a great bracelet, but it is a wonderful consciousness.

Wow. This turned into a pep talk. Yes, start to realize that He is here. Cultivate His presence. (When I play golf, I will talk to Him like He is riding next to me—He is a better teacher than coach.) Speaking of, discover those places where it is easier for you to connect—in nature, in your study, on your beloved back porch, in your bathtub. Cherish them, make them special. Believe that He wants to connect with you (I keep saying, the bridge is faith). He promises: I am with you always.

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My Writing Confession

(Photo by K)

I was only supposed to teach for five years. After that I was going to be a successful Young Adult author, about one book a year, speaking engagements around the country, maybe a movie deal or two. You know, John Green. That was the dream, and I worked at it—you should see the voluminous notes, the unpublished manuscripts, the unbought screenplays, and the fervent prayers (yes, I wrote them too). I was just lucky that God had a better plan than I did.

Do you see the problem with my scenario? I was all about me. I even had two homes planned, winters in Texas, summers in North Carolina. I became a writing whore, wracking my brain to figure out what “they” wanted. A couple of close calls made it even more tantalizing. As a result, writing lost its zest for me. Eventually, I stopped (not the prayers, though). If I was going to entitle a chapter for that period, it would be “The invasiveness of ego.” I threw up the obligatory prayer, but I was writing the menu.

God’s plan was for me to be a teacher, and He wanted me to teach writing. Boy, talk about the blind leading the blind. I used to teach my students that if you wanted to be a writer, you had to develop a strong ego—because you had to be convinced that you had something to say, and you had to be able to handle rejection. I still believe both those things. I neglected to tell them that you must not allow your ego to become the center of the universe (for your writing or your life). I also forgot to tell them what a gift the creative urge is. If you create something (writing, music, painting, singing, dancing, performing, athletics, and a myriad of other forms) and feel in your heart that “It is good”, you are mirroring the image of God—like you are supposed to.

People are uncomfortable with the idea of writing (substitute any other art form) for God. It sounds so sanctimonious. The obvious—he doesn’t need you to write for Him. I hate to disillusion all you believers, but God doesn’t need you for anything. He just invites us to join His glorious parade. So writing (or whatever) is for your benefit, not His. But do you see how the center has shifted? You can’t write for Him with your ego. Impossible. So I have decided to write for God. That doesn’t mean my ego, the shiftiest of all shadows, will not insinuate itself when I’m not looking. But I have a contract—get thee hence.

The pleasure of writing for God is the freedom. No editors (except Karen)—I take responsibility for whatever I write. No publisher—no query letters, no agent searches, no market evaluations, no pressure to follow the media. No money—I used to think if I put this much time into something, I should get paid for it. If it worked that way, I would be a professional golfer. No deadlines—except internal ones—which I like because I am trying to develop self-control. And I can write about whatever comes into my mind, because I believe God watches over my mind—what freedom!

The pain of writing (or any art form) for God is doubt. Do I have Your guidance? Are you really leading me? What do I have to say? Why should anybody listen? Do I pretend to represent You? Me trying to express You is like a seventh grade kid taking his first theater class trying to express Brando—only way way way moreso. The only way I have been able to overcome these doubts is by believing You want me to try it.

So, to my readers, I knew I wanted to write again. I couldn’t find a novel or a short story or whatever. I wanted to write what I thought about. I didn’t want to dabble (I always tend to dabble). Ah, but those doubts…I vowed (scary word, vow) that I’d do a blog post twice a week for a year (started July 2). If you’ve gotten this far, that’s why we are here.

I used to hope I’d get rich and famous. Hmmm. What do I hope now? I hope I can stick to my vow. I hope that the people who read me will be moved in some small way toward Him. I hope my writing will enable me to make new friends and re-establish slumbering friendships. Most of all, I hope it pleases Him. “All the earth shall worship You and sing praises to You.” (Psalm 66:4) I just want to join the chorus.

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The Detritus of Life

(Photo by me)

I have a confession to make, and it is pretty horrible…some of you should stop reading now. This really happened. Karen and I and her Aunt Faith were staying the night in Fenton, Missouri after spending the whole day moving Faith out of her home. The next day we would fly to Dallas where Faith would move in with us. We were hungry and tired. I called a local bar and ordered wings and fries, etc. I brought the food back to the motel. While Karen went to get Faith, I opened up the wings. Someone had eaten one of the wings and thrown the bones back on top of the stack. And it was my fault. I paid for the order at the bar before it was ready, and I didn’t leave a tip. I figured, take-out. Stupid. So here’s my dilemma: if Karen, certainly, and Faith, absolutely, see the eaten wing, I have to throw the whole thing out and go back and get something else or starve. So I pick up the bones and hide them in a napkin in the trash. My only defense for my action: detritus.

The dictionary defines detritus as: waste or debris of any kind. Chomped-on chicken bones qualify as debris. In a sense, as we stroll through life, we are basically making our way through past, present and future debris all the time. Detritus is a by-product of life—it cannot be ignored or avoided.

For clarity’s sake, let’s examine daily detritus. It starts in the bathroom. The morning elimination, the ablution, the tooth-brushing, the meds, the grooming, the make-up—all of them defenses against or accessions to detritus. Move on to the kitchen—the coffee, the dishes, the leftovers, the garbage, the failed diet. Disintegration. Detritus. The detritus of my life—the regrets, the blunders, the wrong choices, the selfishness, the consistent inclination to choose for me rather than for others. Finally, the detritus of my mind—but I leave that to Him. The Bible promises that believing in Him will cause the transforming of my mind. I trust Him for that. There is too much detritus in there for me to deal with.

Okay, a sad example of daily detritus: my whole teaching career I trained myself to do my business in the morning. An agony that I am sure most teachers have experienced is having to go in the middle of a class period. I asserted a level of control over my bodily functions—we would go before we left for school. This seemed like an intensely personal struggle…and then somehow my brother and I got on that subject and I learned he trained himself the very same way. I’ve come to the realization that we try to find dignified ways to manage our detritus.

I believe detritus has a strong role to play in our lives as a spiritual teacher. Foremost, it demonstrates to us that we are a fallen race. Angels don’t have to do floors. Muck and mess are real words that we have created on this planet. Acknowledge our fallenness. Secondly, detritus keeps us humble. I occasionally think of supermodels on the toilet. Detritus doesn’t see rich or poor or white or black or male or female or any distinction you can make among us. Some people are better at covering up their detritus than others, and I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or not. (A friend told me recently that his wife gets annoyed when he farts.) Detritus is universal. Another benefit: it challenges us to be honest. Going deeper in a relationship means sharing detritus. It can get complex. (Haha, but I guess I’m being hypocritical—the only way my wife is going to find out about those contaminated wings is when she reads this essay. Aunt Faith will never find out!) And finally, detritus breeds faith. There are so many things out there that can kill me. Germs to parasites to hurricanes. I will do what I can do, but I need a big blanket of detritus protection from the One who can and will protect me.

I was talking with my wife awhile back. “Do you think we’ll poop in heaven?” Her: “Nope. No poop, no pee, no marriage.” An unreadable smile. Should I be worried?

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“Is it fun being you?” … (why I asked that)

Nessa and Edith — definitely fun being. (Photo by B)

I suspect most teachers have certain questions they use as conversation starters (especially on a 1:1 basis). One of mine was: “Can I ask you a personal question?” If they said no or hesitated, I said, “Okay, fine.” Nine times out of ten, those recalcitrant ones would say, “Never mind. What is it?” Most of my students just said, “Sure.” My follow-up was: “Is it fun being you?” The emotionally resilient would assure me that it was; my rejoinder: “Really? I don’t see the pleasure in it.” (I loved to kid around.) To those unsure of an answer, I tried to be more sensitive.

Why did I say that? I don’t think it was a full-blown strategy—more like an intuition. Isn’t it supposed to be? To me that is one of the fundamental questions of our existence. Another way to word it is: “Do you enjoy the life that you’ve been given?” There is in our post-Christian world an insinuation of an angry and vengeful God (I know you can find it in the Bible—you can find everything in the Bible!) He doesn’t mete out our lives to us in little spoons—it is a banquet! So here is my thesis (geez, why do I keep doing that?): If it is not fun being you, something has gone wrong.

Am I wrong to think that it is supposed to be fun? I immediately recognize the countless souls born into unhappy, sordid, inhumane circumstances. On the issue of suffering, I have no answers, except that Jesus will make it better than it is. But for some of us, our circumstances become an excuse rather than a reason. How much of our discontent is self-imposed? That takes a little introspection, which is a good thing. I am absolutely certain that it is supposed to be fun to be me—and that is a matter of faith, observation and response.

Is it fun being me? Yes. Why? Because I have people I love more than myself. Because I am glad I was created. Because I am learning to love my Creator. Because my life, in retrospect, is an adventurous journey. Because I don’t know what is going to happen next—but I trust. How fun!

What if you don’t think it is (fun being you)? Then change! (See my last essay…) I go back to my thesis: something has gone wrong. It doesn’t have to be this way. Be analytical—why isn’t it fun being you? Be optimistic—you can make it more fun to be you. Be realistic—God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change and the strength to change the things I can. Be grateful—realize that life is a gift.

What if you’re not sure (if it’s fun being you)? Then find out! One of my favorite Dylan quotes: “He not busy being born is busy dying.” (My alltime favorite President—Carter—used it in his inauguration speech.) Get busy being born! Try new things. Trust your instincts. Look outward and be still inward. Listen. Breathe.

As I said, it drives me crazy when we Christians depict God as being disapproving or uptight or, worst of all, selective in His affections. Or when we put ideology above love. You name the axis of opposition: Democrat v. Republican, pro-life v. pro-choice, straight v. gay, criminal v. victim, Cowboys v. Saints—God has no favorites. Yeah, I know, God hates sin—He fixed that. Sin is our problem, not His, because it separates us from Him. He does not expect us to go out into the world looking for sin to take down—there is plenty of that in our own hearts. He wants us to go into the world looking to love—just like He did. And if you, personally, are able to maintain that vision—I guarantee, without a doubt, 100%, absolutely certain—it will be fun being you.

Addendum: I always share my essays with my wife before I publish them. She reacted rather strongly to this one. She felt I was “looking at life through rose-colored glasses”—ignoring mental illness, depression, circumstances, tragedy. I admit I glossed over that in one brief paragraph about suffering. I am acutely aware (now) that the Bible makes frequent mention of trials, endurance, hardship, testing of our faith, and yes, pain. Obviously, we don’t stroll through those times whistling about how fun it is to be us. So, perhaps, an “appreciation of life” would be a more appropriate term than “fun.” But dang, I can’t get by my central point—God wants us to enjoy the life He has given us. For that, I am thankful.

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Ch-ch-ch-changes

This sculpture is entitled “The Speed of Grace” and is in the new addition of the sculpture garden in City Park in New Orleans (Photo by K)

Do you even want to change? Yeah, I know about all the self-help books sold every year…but I think telling ourselves we would like to change is spiritual comfort food. And taking itty-bitty steps down that path is dessert. Then you are done.

Do you want to change? We all feel like we should, in one way or another, but is it okay not to change? To be satisfied just as you are? That sounds good, but it doesn’t work for me. That would be settling. I’ve never met anyone that I thought was flat-out perfect when I met her. (Yes, it was mostly hers—and some of them came close.) How would anyone be satisfied exactly as he/she is?

Can we change ourselves? “That’s just the way I am.” That phrase has driven me crazy more than any other in the American consciousness. That is someone who has sat down in the middle of the race. True change will never be against your will, at least any meaningful change. You have to be open.

To be more specific—this is internal change we are discussing. I’m not talking job or lifestyle or appearance (all important topics, by the way). This is character. Changing what you don’t like about yourself. And if you are more concerned about a pimple than you are about your envy of your cool friend, you have headed off course.

To move forward, I am going to assume that you, like me, see a need for change. This is a huge assumption because my observation is that most of us don’t really want to change. I call that blindness…been blind most of my adult life. But I also see that deep down (soulishly), we want to get better, we want to do better, we want to be better. And that’s where we get bulldozed by the weight loss/self-image/approval seeking/captain-of-my-ship monster that is controlling our mental airwaves. (Get down to 175. Work out five hours a week. Read my Bible every morning.) You can do it.

Then we doom ourselves by trying to measure the goal of the proposed change. We do this with pounds, bank accounts, social media hits, golf handicaps, resumes, bucket lists and so on. Every goal is self-directed. And we are lost.

So here’s my question, and the point of this whole meditation…can we change ourselves? Sadly (or not), I don’t think we can. I find that my will is as weak as my faith (but my faith has a better reserve). I cannot will myself to a better character. I can’t find it in me. I have to receive it. It’s called the fruit of the Spirit.

I don’t think I ever finished it, but I loved the title of Oswald Chambers’ 365 day devotional: My Utmost for His Highest. Whoa. That is some call to a relationship, isn’t it? No one can believe utmost has already been reached. It is a goal, an aspiration, a determination to move forward. His Highest? Unimaginably blissful. Who would not want to move closer to that?

I’ve never been very good at the practical steps. I love the verse about “…being renewed by the transforming of our minds…” Commit yourself to being changed, not changing. Breathe (really—pay attention to that). Also, pay attention. Here and now is all that matters at each particular instant—it all just adds up. Seek out others—they have more power to change you than you do. Listen. God loves good listeners. And desire to be changed. Clay. Potter. Believe.

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Reading revisited

The best way to fall asleep. (Photo by K)

While playing golf, my friend Dan asked what I would do with the rest of my day. After making the “If I have a beer, I will probably take a nap” confession, I said I’d probably work on my blog or read. “Reading never came easy to me, so I don’t read much,” Dan said, but he said it wistfully, not scornfully. It made me realize: where would I be without reading? Honestly, my hierarchy would probably be: breathing, sleeping, eating, and then reading or sports (it’s close!). O, how reading has enriched my life!

How do I love reading—let me count the ways: 1.) Growth—I was taught at an early age that reading fed your brain, and I never disbelieved it. In my wilder, hippie days, when I was doing many things I am not proud of, I still kept reading. It was a lifeline to sanity for me. 2.) Jail—when I was 21, I was incarcerated for possession of marijuana. I was sentenced to one year, though I ended up serving 77 days. I never would have made it without reading. 3.) Career—when my crisis came (“What am I going to do with my life to make money?”), two things rose up in my mind: writing and teaching. If I taught, it would have to be English—that was the only thing I halfway knew. Trying to write without reading would be like trying to play golf without equipment. Both ambitions hinged on reading. 4.) Intellectual freedom—a former student said to me, “I hate reading because when you read, you have to think.” I wish I had responded, “Yeah, but, when you read, you don’t have to think about yourself.” 5.) Information—my number one way to find out anything about anything. My mother used to throw out words (mawkish) just so we would have to look them up. Should have been on her gravestone: “Look it up.” (I brook an inner resentment against Siri and Alexa, though they are constantly weakening me.) 6.) Spiritual guide—though none of us know exactly what Kingdom life will be like, I believe we will still have individual conversations. After Jesus (of course) and the apostle Paul, I will seek out Frederick Buechner and Brian Doyle (my two favorite Christian writers). 7.) The Bible—not even going to write about it—a whole different way of reading—if reading feeds your brain, the Bible feeds your soul—you just have to make sure your heart is open—that’s the entry point. 8.) (Finally, like the end of the day) A soporific—a wonderful way to go to sleep.

Next to my back porch and a church sanctuary, the holiest place I know is the public library. (Actually, I’d probably put the library above the sanctuary.) I love our current one—no fines, you never have to return anything until someone else asks for it, you can check out as much as you like. It is here to serve us—what can be holier?

My father, when he retired, read The History of Civilization by Will Durant. It is twelve volumes, each one thicker than a doorstep. When he finished, he told me it was surely the equivalent of a four year liberal arts college education. I admired him so much for doing it. I even put it on my bucket list—sigh—turns out that I’m not that desirous of a liberal arts education.

Every Christmas I give my three children and their spouses a book. I try to be selective for the individual, but sometimes I will double or even triple up if it is something that particularly affected me. I keep a list so I don’t give anyone the same book twice. I don’t get much feedback, and I doubt if very many books have been read so far. But when I go to their houses, I will spot them on various bookshelves. It makes me smile—someday, who knows, their hearts may be touched by the book like mine was. A gift, but not from me.

My exhortation: whenever you can, however you can, encourage those you love to read.

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Reflections on retirement–then and now

Sitting on my back porch, watching the golf course go by, enjoying retirement. (Photo by K)

This is a bit of a cheat, but I like it and it’s my blog. You know how Facebook will play like your memory, revisiting things you posted in the past? I posted what follows shortly after I retired. I want to repost it, along with comments on how it looks five years later. (Comments in italics)

To my friends (if you’re interested): my Top Ten reflections on retirement (after three and a half months):

1) Just because you play golf a lot doesn’t mean you’ll get better. (Actually, I have gotten better—probably because I don’t care about getting better as much as I used to—golf is a spiritual exercise.)

2) Your significant other is the most important relationship you have on the planet–you cannot possibly put too much energy into it. (True, true, true. Unfortunately, it is also the easiest relationship to take for granted. K and I seem to float around each other as much as we connect. I have to put more energy into her.)

3) Good health is paramount to enjoying life. Diet, exercise and bad habits are daily battlefields that have to be addressed. I wish I had realized this earlier. (Haha. What I’ve realized is the battlefield is a constant and will be for the rest of my days. It’s a battle worth fighting, though.)

4) Your conscious mind retires before your subconscious does…(I have had at least 30 school anxiety dreams since retirement day!) (Huge improvement here, though they haven’t gone completely away. I have as many dreams about golf and about my family as I do about school these days.)

5) Alarm clocks suck (the life out of you). (I’ll let this one stand on its own.)

6) Value and nurture your pre-retirement relationships–you are retiring, not withdrawing. (If it wasn’t for social media, you, my beloved friends from the past, would have mostly disappeared. How sad! Time marches forward, not back.)

7) Equally important: put energy into building post-retirement relationships–there are so many interesting people in this world! (Between golf and church, this has happened pretty organically for me.)

8) Family, family, family: duh. (Whether you are a Christian or any other faith, I’d be shocked if you pray about anything more than your family.)

9) If spiritual things have not become more important and more meaningful to you, you’ve made a wrong turn somewhere. (Or so I believe.)

10) Pay attention: I suspect that God (or the universe or whatever you want to call it) is trying to speak to us all the time–we are born deaf. (His voice is just so subtle…and I create so much internal dissonance. But I’m more convinced than ever that He is speaking…dear Lord, teach me to listen.)

p.s.–This is what I’ve observed, not necessarily what I practice–but I’m trying!

p.p.s.—I love retirement—people are surprised when I tell them this is my favorite period of my life. I can only come up with two reasons: A) my two biggest stress producers, money and time, don’t have much sway over me; and B) I vowed I was going to make my relationship with God my first priority when I retired. I have never looked back.

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Artfulness

artwork by Annalisa Barelli

The world needs more art. I realized this as I was watching a film called Eighth Grade awhile back. I wondered what made me appreciate the movie so much. It was a realistic portrait, very much the way kids are (as I remember from teaching and being). And it was uplifting. Certain values were sown into the fabric of the story: the love between parent and child (even at a difficult age), the importance of accepting yourself, and the desire to be helpful to other human beings. The art that I like most elevates.

My family has played this game often when we get together: MS or RT? A Media Star is someone who found the right agent or caught the popular wave or just got lucky (if you can call it that) and became famous. An RT is a Real Talent, an artist whose work demanded an audience…who had to become famous. And my brother and sisters would name actors and singers and authors and anchormen and athletes and even politicians. I personally think our culture has swung heavily toward the MS. You have to search for RT’s. (They are still out there in abundance.)

My son, a film enthusiast, and I have disagreed about Martin Scorsese. Nah, we both think he is an RT—his creative vision, his meticulousness, his diversity, i.e., his genius. Here is my hang-up: I rarely like anyone in his movies: the characters, not the actors. I know that sounds extremely subjective—but is it? I think Scorsese’s primary (but not singular) focus in his career has been immorality tales—the pathway to and the results of fallenness. Like I said, I like art that elevates.

And so I looked at my art—I am trying to be a writer. With no false modesty, I can say that I feel more like a bricklayer than an architect. I have learned that pursuing an art can become as idolatrous as balancing a checkbook. I am trying to maintain a single focus: keep writing. Is it fear or wisdom? Without a doubt, my purpose is to uplift. If you have read me at all, you know that has to connect with Jesus. I am listening for His voice. I can be thick-headed. But I’m not dipping my toes in and then stepping out. I am in. Wherever God leads me is where I want to end up. And yet, I have a penchant for making wrong turns. I am a person before I am a writer.

A wonderful realization came to me. Writing is too restrictive. I don’t have to pursue an art—I want to acquire, develop as a characteristic, commune with: artfulness.

What is artfulness? Making the right choices all of the time. Paul said it best: “…whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.” If I can carry that consciousness into every situation, from making Aunt Faith’s tea, to sharing a golf cart, to doing the dishes, I will be living artfully. Of course, I can’t. I fall short continuously. But as long as I get back up, reset my focus and move forward, I am practicing artfulness.

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Money — the spiritual side

You shall have no other gods before me. What does that mean? That is a spectacularly authoritative command. Almost egotistical. Except it’s not, because God has no ego, and it’s not a command but an invitation. How can you not enthrone the All Powerful who has nothing but unconditional love for you? But He will never force you. You can’t have a pure relationship without freedom of choice.

Along comes Money—by far God’s biggest rival (except God has no rivals). Take a look at the world humankind has created. From food to shelter to career to contract to corporation to government to the stock exchange to trade agreements—Money is the whole underpinning of our daily existence. How is it possible not to make Money our god?

Because it is not. You are examining a finite system—you die and it is all gone. If you believe that when you die, you are gone, then it makes sense to pursue Money. I don’t believe that (see one of my earlier posts—Death Is Not the End—one of my favorites). The apostle Paul says: If Christ did not rise from the dead, we are the most of all men to be pitied. Ecclesiastes has a simpler view of life without God: Eat, drink, and be merry…for tomorrow you may die.

The choice is spelled out clearly. You cannot serve God and mammon. O human, choose the better master! Though the choice is black and white, most of us choose gray. Fool that I am, I spent most of my adult life riding that compromise. I’d put it 70 to 30 for mammon most of the time—65 to 35 on good days. We refuse to believe that No other gods before me.. is good news—designed for our benefits—the antithesis of a petty demand. Put God first…even in money matters. If I was God’s PR agent (He doesn’t need one), I’d tell Him to take out that part with Jesus and the rich young man. How many of us have read it and thought Awww, poor man as the rich young man walked away? Why do you think Jesus told him that? No other gods… Will Jesus tell you what He told the rich young man? I doubt it. The better question (the ultimate moral/ethical question) is: if He did, would you do it? I hope I would. (He hasn’t asked me yet).

Which brings us to the question of tithing. I have always wondered, why 10%? That seems so under the Law. (Actually, it is under the Law). The church we joined (which I love) suggested that we make an annual commitment to our giving. I decided not to (not even sure if Karen is with me on this one). I don’t believe in 10%–I believe it is all His, and I want to spend it and share it as He wants me to. Of course, I have my selfish concerns—which mainly have to do with my children and their families—but He has those same concerns! Clearly, our use of money matters to our Lord—just as clearly, His heart is directed toward the poor and the disenfranchised. That is one thing I admire about Bill Gates and Warren Buffet—they seem to realize that relieving suffering is a good investment. I guess it’s easier when you have billions.

For the love of money is the root of all sorts of evil. That’s the dividing line. Jesus looks at the heart—and you can never fool Him. It is no longer 10%–it is all His. Does that mean He’s going to send you out on the road, penniless and handing out Bible tracts? (Haha, only if you are a fundamentalist). He meets us where we are—just as He did the rich young man, who asked a rather bold question. He doesn’t want your money—He wants you.

No other gods before me—that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun. It doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy His creation (and by creation I don’t just mean nature—I mean the whole blooming mess!). Jesus’s formula was so simple: Seek ye first the kingdom of God and all these things shall be added unto you. Let the window open—invite Him in.

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