Tuesday, July 31, 2007
They're almost here…
The books are scheduled to be here sometime between August 7th and August 21st. I'm feeling pretty restless, wishing they would hurry and arrive. And then I start thinking, "What if nobody wants to buy this stupid book?" I'm pretty good at self-doubt, especially toward the end of a project; you should see me on Saturday night when I'm supposed to preach the next day. Suddenly all my good ideas look like lunatic ravings and I wonder what on earth I'm going to do. And what happens then is that God takes my efforts and kicks 'em into high gear. I want to believe the same thing will happen with the book. I pray that it will be helpful to someone, that it can minister to somebody who might never darken the door of a church. "Lord, I believe. Help Thou my unbelief."
The Golden Doesn’t Rule…
For several years I’ve worn these big sunglasses that fit over my regular glasses. I wear ‘em until one of the earpieces snaps in two and then I buy another pair. A few weeks ago, I needed some some new shades, so I stopped at a drugstore. I found a pair, slipped them on to make sure they fit, then paid for them and got in the car. That’s when I noticed I had bought a different type of sunglasses; these were the kind that block out everything blue and give everything a golden hue. Even on cloudy, overcast days, it looks sunny through these glasses. But the whole world seems to be yellow, red or black. No other colors exist.
Looking at the world through gold-colored glasses may seem like a good idea; it’s sunny all the time! But it’s artificial. It reminds me of some people I’ve known who would always say things like, “Well, praise the Lord anyway!” when something bad happened. The same people who say, “It was God’s will” when somebody dies.
Here’s the deal. The world is not always sunny. Sometimes you’re gonna have the blues … and those golden glasses don’t reveal the truth, they only color it. I had to go back to the store a week later and find another pair of shades, some that didn’t try to make everything bright and golden. See, the answer is not in coloring your blues. It’s in seeing them as they are and being able to keep going anyway. Walking in the Light doesn’t make everything beautiful; it makes everything visible and then provides the strength to walk through it.
Silence may be golden. But not everything else is. If you can’t see the blues, the gold isn’t going to mean much. If you try to make everything gold, you won’t be able to see the real gold when it’s in front of you. I long to see things as they are … and then move forward.
Looking at the world through gold-colored glasses may seem like a good idea; it’s sunny all the time! But it’s artificial. It reminds me of some people I’ve known who would always say things like, “Well, praise the Lord anyway!” when something bad happened. The same people who say, “It was God’s will” when somebody dies.
Here’s the deal. The world is not always sunny. Sometimes you’re gonna have the blues … and those golden glasses don’t reveal the truth, they only color it. I had to go back to the store a week later and find another pair of shades, some that didn’t try to make everything bright and golden. See, the answer is not in coloring your blues. It’s in seeing them as they are and being able to keep going anyway. Walking in the Light doesn’t make everything beautiful; it makes everything visible and then provides the strength to walk through it.
Silence may be golden. But not everything else is. If you can’t see the blues, the gold isn’t going to mean much. If you try to make everything gold, you won’t be able to see the real gold when it’s in front of you. I long to see things as they are … and then move forward.
One ugly mug…
Every Sunday morning I receive comments and questions on the size of the mug I carry around. It’s filled with Diet Coke (the elixir of life) and holds about 60 ounces, which is apparently more fluid than most people drink in a day. “That thing is huge!” “Do you really drink all that?” “How many times a day do you fill that up?” I’ve grown accustomed to having the biggest cup on the campus.
But last week I drove across the desert, from Austin to Los Angeles, and I made a startling discovery. I was at a convenience store in Phoenix; the temperature outside was 111. I know, it’s a dry heat. But still. I took my mug into the store to get a refill and saw a sign I’d never seen before. Most stores have a sign on the fountain that says something like this: “16 oz—69¢; 32 oz—79¢; 48 oz—89¢.” This sign started out like that, but it continued: “1 gallon— $1.79; 2 gallons—$2.89; 5 gallons—$6.89.”
A five gallon refill! What manner of man could achieve this? How would you even get a five-gallon container to fit on the soda fountain? I realized that my mug had become a pitiful and puny vessel, a demitasse cup compared to the offerings of these desert-dwellers.
Sometimes it takes a trip into the desert to reveal how much more you are capable of receiving. We wander through our spiritual lives, proud of how full our little teacup of grace is. But when the heat is on, we learn that we can receive more…if only our container is big enough.
The day after I stopped in Phoenix, I opened the car door and my mug tumbled onto the parking lot and shattered. The only thing worse than having a cup too small is having no cup at all. See, the fountain never stops flowing; we just forget to drink from it sometimes. Excuse me, I have to go get a new mug.
But last week I drove across the desert, from Austin to Los Angeles, and I made a startling discovery. I was at a convenience store in Phoenix; the temperature outside was 111. I know, it’s a dry heat. But still. I took my mug into the store to get a refill and saw a sign I’d never seen before. Most stores have a sign on the fountain that says something like this: “16 oz—69¢; 32 oz—79¢; 48 oz—89¢.” This sign started out like that, but it continued: “1 gallon— $1.79; 2 gallons—$2.89; 5 gallons—$6.89.”
A five gallon refill! What manner of man could achieve this? How would you even get a five-gallon container to fit on the soda fountain? I realized that my mug had become a pitiful and puny vessel, a demitasse cup compared to the offerings of these desert-dwellers.
Sometimes it takes a trip into the desert to reveal how much more you are capable of receiving. We wander through our spiritual lives, proud of how full our little teacup of grace is. But when the heat is on, we learn that we can receive more…if only our container is big enough.
The day after I stopped in Phoenix, I opened the car door and my mug tumbled onto the parking lot and shattered. The only thing worse than having a cup too small is having no cup at all. See, the fountain never stops flowing; we just forget to drink from it sometimes. Excuse me, I have to go get a new mug.
Friday, July 13, 2007
To think better of it…
We were eating in a restaurant recently and I could overhear the conversation from the table behind me. A mother and her little girl—I’d guess she was around six—were talking about various things and I noticed that the mom was not one of those people who talk down to children. No baby talk, no cutesy voices, no talking slowly while EMPHASIZING certain words. Instead, they conversed like two grownups. That’s why it was so charming when the little girl was talking about a movie they’d seen and managed to say something no adult would. She expressed her opinion of the film and then said, “But people who aren’t very thinkable probably wouldn’t get that part.”
I immediately filed her word away in my memory: thinkable. We talk about unthinkable events, but never about thinkable ones. We understand what “thoughtful” means, but I vote we all add “thinkable” to our vocabulary. Don’t you know people who never seem to think before they act? Don’t you know someone who never thinks of anyone except himself? Don’t you know a person who spends amazing amounts of time thinking about meaningless trivia? Sure you do. You know me, don’t you?
Most of the time, I guess I’m not very “thinkable.” I fill my head with the mental equivalent of a forty-seven pound Hershey bar and then I wonder why there doesn’t seem to be much room in there for something meatier. And then I trip over verses like this one in Philippians 4: “Whatever things are true, whatever things are honest, things which are just, things which are pure, things which are lovely, things of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”
I love it when I can learn something from a child. No wonder Jesus liked ‘em so much and wanted them close to him. They’re thinkable. I want to be that way, too, and I think it’s still possible. I may be older now … but I’m still learnable.
I immediately filed her word away in my memory: thinkable. We talk about unthinkable events, but never about thinkable ones. We understand what “thoughtful” means, but I vote we all add “thinkable” to our vocabulary. Don’t you know people who never seem to think before they act? Don’t you know someone who never thinks of anyone except himself? Don’t you know a person who spends amazing amounts of time thinking about meaningless trivia? Sure you do. You know me, don’t you?
Most of the time, I guess I’m not very “thinkable.” I fill my head with the mental equivalent of a forty-seven pound Hershey bar and then I wonder why there doesn’t seem to be much room in there for something meatier. And then I trip over verses like this one in Philippians 4: “Whatever things are true, whatever things are honest, things which are just, things which are pure, things which are lovely, things of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.”
I love it when I can learn something from a child. No wonder Jesus liked ‘em so much and wanted them close to him. They’re thinkable. I want to be that way, too, and I think it’s still possible. I may be older now … but I’m still learnable.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Imperfection
I received the proofs from the printer on Friday. They had spotted one page inside where the text went a bit out of the margin. Then I spotted a typo on the back cover where I had typed "quirkly" instead of "quirky." For some reason, knowing about these two mistakes made me feel kinda nauseous. Part of it was that I had hoped everything was perfect...but I oughta know better. Another part was that it struck me that this book is actually about to go on the press and it will be too late to change anything. Did I say anything wrong? Was I too irreverent somewhere? Well, that ship has sailed now, I guess. It's a crisis in confidence that I experience fairly often, especially every time I get the chance to preach on Sunday. I start out excited about my ideas for the message. But about Thursday or Friday, I start thinking: "I got nothing here! What was I thinking? This is gonna be awful." I have to remind myself to trust my first impressions and to let God handle the rest.
So I made the two corrections to the book proofs and sent them off on Tuesday. No turning back now. In just a few weeks I'll be receiving boxes full of Shiny Spots in the Rust. It's still scary.
So I made the two corrections to the book proofs and sent them off on Tuesday. No turning back now. In just a few weeks I'll be receiving boxes full of Shiny Spots in the Rust. It's still scary.
Friday, July 6, 2007
The Not-So-Magic Marker
When compact discs were the hot new music format, I remember a curious legend making the rounds: If you used a green Magic Marker to color the edge of the CD, you would get a noticeable improvement in the already-awesome digital sound quality. This “insider information” was printed in many music magazines and side-by-side listening tests were conducted to see if the difference was really there. I even recall at least one Austin music store selling specially-packaged green markers just for this purpose. Did I try this on some of my own discs? No comment. But it was the only time in my life I actually had a green thumb.
You’d expect that, by now, CDs would have their edges painted green at the factory, to ensure that increased quality for consumers, right? They don’t, though, and the record stores no longer carry Magic Markers. Know why? Because it was eventually proven with a bevy of upscale machinery that coloring a CD had absolutely no effect on the sound.
When Jesus came to this place, bringing a new message, a new way of life involving loving other people in the same way God loves us, it was pretty exciting. But some people had to grab their green Magic Markers. They had to add lists of rules that a follower of Jesus had to obey. They had to hang up signs to separate the “real” Christians from the “not really” Christians. They had to choose to love some people while clinging to the right to hate some other people.
Compact discs don’t need to be painted up to sound better. And “amazing grace” is already the sweeetest sound in the universe. Don’t mark it up…TURN IT UP!
You’d expect that, by now, CDs would have their edges painted green at the factory, to ensure that increased quality for consumers, right? They don’t, though, and the record stores no longer carry Magic Markers. Know why? Because it was eventually proven with a bevy of upscale machinery that coloring a CD had absolutely no effect on the sound.
When Jesus came to this place, bringing a new message, a new way of life involving loving other people in the same way God loves us, it was pretty exciting. But some people had to grab their green Magic Markers. They had to add lists of rules that a follower of Jesus had to obey. They had to hang up signs to separate the “real” Christians from the “not really” Christians. They had to choose to love some people while clinging to the right to hate some other people.
Compact discs don’t need to be painted up to sound better. And “amazing grace” is already the sweeetest sound in the universe. Don’t mark it up…TURN IT UP!
In the pudding
Got an email which stated that the proofs for the book are on the way to me via FedEx. Proofs are the final opportunity to make changes or corrections before all the books are printed. The proof allows you to see exactly how the cover will look, which can vary considerably from how it looks on your computer screen. Since the inside pages have been pretty thoroughly proofread, it shouldn't take me more than a day to go through the proofs. Then, once I sign off on the proofs, the printing process can begin. It's getting close now. The printer is estimating delivery of the books around the second or third week in August.
Scan this…
I’m that guy. The guy who actually hopes he’ll get stopped by the woman with the clipboard at the mall: “Would you answer a few questions about toothpaste?” The guy who actually listens to the telephone opinion surveys. But what I always wanted was to be…drum roll…a Nielsen family. You know, that fabled group of people whose viewing habits determine the ratings for television programs.
In years past, Nielsen families had to keep a diary of all their TV watching. Now, however, there are other ways to keep track. When we got a Tivo recorder several years ago, I was offered the opportunity to have my Tivo report to the Nielsen company. I said yes. Months later I was offered another opportunity, one which was much more personal. We became one of a legion of families across the country who agreed to report in great detail what we purchased. We were furnished a hand-held scanner and instructed to scan the barcodes on every grocery item, every book, every CD…just about anything that had a UPC code on it. For items like meat or fruit, we had to enter the weight, price per pound, whether the product was organic or not, whether it was prepackaged.
I began the program eagerly, even though it took 20 minutes to scan everything whenever we brought groceries home. We received occasional gifts in the mail and were eligible for prizes each month. But the main incentive for me was the idea that someone was finally listening to my opinion. After eight months of faithfully recording every purchase, I suddenly grew tired of the process. I realized we tended to buy the exact same items every week. I realized I was no longer fascinated by scanning things. I realized that the things I wanted to share with people were more important issues than what brand of granola bars we liked. Why wasn’t I sharing about joy, grace, love? Maybe because they’re not things we can buy. They’re by-products, not “buy” products, gifts that come from the One who truly does value our opinion.
In years past, Nielsen families had to keep a diary of all their TV watching. Now, however, there are other ways to keep track. When we got a Tivo recorder several years ago, I was offered the opportunity to have my Tivo report to the Nielsen company. I said yes. Months later I was offered another opportunity, one which was much more personal. We became one of a legion of families across the country who agreed to report in great detail what we purchased. We were furnished a hand-held scanner and instructed to scan the barcodes on every grocery item, every book, every CD…just about anything that had a UPC code on it. For items like meat or fruit, we had to enter the weight, price per pound, whether the product was organic or not, whether it was prepackaged.
I began the program eagerly, even though it took 20 minutes to scan everything whenever we brought groceries home. We received occasional gifts in the mail and were eligible for prizes each month. But the main incentive for me was the idea that someone was finally listening to my opinion. After eight months of faithfully recording every purchase, I suddenly grew tired of the process. I realized we tended to buy the exact same items every week. I realized I was no longer fascinated by scanning things. I realized that the things I wanted to share with people were more important issues than what brand of granola bars we liked. Why wasn’t I sharing about joy, grace, love? Maybe because they’re not things we can buy. They’re by-products, not “buy” products, gifts that come from the One who truly does value our opinion.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
