Archive for 2010

Elections...

Yay for Election Day 2010. Is this the first time in circa 15 years we've had split control of Congress? Either way, maybe now they'll learn to work together. Maybe, maybe not, but at least now no single power-intoxicated party can ram legislation down my throat. Instead, two power-intoxicated parties will barter with each other to ram legislation down my throat.

In all seriousness, I am a big fan of a split congress. Single-party congress is like giving power to a socially inept nerd (otherwise known as PolySci majors). Most all of us can't handle unchecked authority, and both parties have proven themselves overly eager to stab each other in the back if given the room to stretch their arms wide enough to strike. I hope good things come out of the next Congress. At least now we can say most everyone's interests are capable of being represented at the negotiation table.

Quick NBA Thought...

All the talk is on the new-look Miami Heat. Have we forgotten about the 03-04 Lakers, who stacked Shaq, Kobe, Karl Malone, and Gary Payton together? They must have been a better team than the current heat. They had a real bench; role players -- real, team player kind of guys, not a basket of old veterans self-selecting themselves into a last-ditch ring chase. I'm not saying the Heat won't win it all this year or some year very soon. Safe money says they will.


I'm only saying that I think the 03-04 Shaq + Kobe were a better 1-2 than 10-11 James-Wade. S+K covered the perimeter and inside games, and they were the best at each. J+W play the same isolation game, and that's not championship basketball. Beyond the 1-2s, the 03-04 Lakers could beat the 10-11 Heat up and down the floor. It's just not close. I'll say it again -- for all the hype the 10-11 Heat have received, we saw a better, more-team-oriented mash up of superstars in the 03-04 Lakers. And the 03-04 Lakers lost to the Pistons. In a two week span, Richard Hamilton, Chauncey Billups, Tayshaun Prince, Rasheed Wallace, and Ben Wallace became Kings of the Hill, allstars, and the new team to beat. They won with killer defense. The 03-04 Lakers didn't defend well. The 10-11 Heat don't defend as an entire team; they rely on a few people for that job. 

Again, the Heat could win it all and I wouldn't be surprised in the least. I'm only saying that I would not be surprised if they get blown up in the playoffs by a team that emphasizes team play over individual stars, and one that really, really knows how to defend. Just don't tell that to David Stern. I don't think such teams are the ones he has in mind when he counts his money and changes the rules.

Shout out to my Lady Friend...

I'm a big fan of my wife. This is one of my favorite pictures of her.

Well, Crap.

TCU loses to UCLA. We're still in it, but the road is tough. Provided we can beat the tar out of Florida State (again), we get a few do-or-die's against UCLA. Hopefully it'll work out. But, worst case, we finish somewhere in the top six. That'll do, pig. That'll do.

In other news, if you aren't watching the World Cup, a possible massive upset is in the works. Currently, South Africa is beating France 2-0 and Mexico is losing 1-0 to Uruguay. If, between South Africa's margin of victory and Mexico's margin of defeat, 3 more goals are realized, South Africa will advance, and Mexico will go home. If only 2 more are realized, FIFA will determine who advances by 'the casting of lots' (flipping a coin). The big point is, South Africa has a very real chance of advancing to the elimination rounds, and France is this tournament's official goat.


Moving Along...

Just giving a shout out to my TCU Horned Frogs, and their 8-1 schellacking of those fiendsish Seminoles of Florida State.


Also, extra props to my classmate, Eric Marshall, who closed the game with style.

Next up, either Florida or UCLA on Monday. 1 Down, 4 to Go.

Go Frogs.

Re: Brilliant...

Well, crap.

I clearly missed out on the link on my prior 'Brilliant' post. One month later, here you go.

http://republicanwhip.house.gov/YouCut/


ps - I fine myself 1157 Deanbucks for the blunder.

Idea...

I have an idea, and I'm completely serious.

Have you thought about donating money to help affected people in the Gulf? My suggestion: buy BP bonds. That's right. Lend your money to BP.

BP currently has a little under $7 billion in cash on hand. They have just agreed to fund $20 billion to support those who have suffered loss due to the oil spill. Whatever they use to back that funding, they are no doubt borrowing money to do so. Right now, Atlantic Richfield Co., a BP subsidiary, is offering short, mid, and long term bonds with high coupons and high yields at a very small premium. In laymans terms, they're offering some killer bond deals, cause they're desperate for money. Here are the possible outcomes of investing in BP bonds.

Worst Case

BP goes bankrupt. In restructuring, assets will be sold off to cover their debts. These debts includes your bond principal, and it includes the relief fund your bond helped to fund. You will likely get some or all of your money back. Either way, as a bondholder, you have priority of repayment over BP's stockholders, so you are in good position to recoup. 

But this is a worst case, right? So lets say BP folds, can't pay your bonds back, and you lose your investment. As unlikely as this is (and it is highly unlikely), you could still claim a capital loss on your bond position, meaning your income taxes are deducted the amount of your losses multiplied by your income tax rate. So, say you invest $5,000 in BP bonds, lose it all, and your tax rate is 25% that year. Your tax liability is reduced by $5,000, and your tax refund is suddenly $1250 greater. In case you weren't counting, that's the same tax effect as donating that same $5,000 to charity!

Best Case (and the likely case) 

BP continues to service their bonds, and pay coupons. This means that, over the life of your bond (which should closely mirror the life of the oil spill restoration efforts), your bonds will earn a rate near 6.5%. Savings accounts might earn 1% right now, at best. T-Bills are about the same, and so are CDs. 6.5% is better than 1%. Say your same $5,000 bond runs for 2 years, and earns 6.5%. That means that, over the life of your bond, your $5,000 will have turned into $5,650. That is assuming you took your coupon payments and either spent the money, or in some way just did nothing productive with it (like a savings account ;). 


In recap, assuming you have $5,000 you're thinking about donating to help people with the oil spill. You can either:

A. Donate the money to charity. 
You get a $5,000 tax credit = $1,250 refund.

B. Buy BP bonds that fund the recovery. BP can't pay, you lose all your money.
You get a $5,000 tax credit = $1,250 refund.

C. Buy BP bonds that fund the recovery. BP pays on time, and the bond matures, no biggie.
You get $5,650 in 2 years, and pay taxes on the $650 gain = $162.50 tax payment = $5,487.50 in your pocket, or $487.50 more than you started with. And you funded the recovery effort.

What say ye?

Brilliant...

Whichever side of the aisle you lean, this is a fun and brilliant idea by the Republican Party.


If you listen closely, you can hear the collective groan of the Democratic Party as they say 'Why didn't we think of this first!'

Now that I've said that, I fully expect someone to show me that they really did think of it first and the Pubbies ripped it off. Until then, credit is given where due, and I'm a big fan of this idea. The right side earns 1246 Deanbucks, and is hereby bestowed gloat privileges for the next 87 hours.




Warren Buffett

I was in Omaha this weekend attending the Berkshire Hathaway shareholder's conference. In list form, here were a few notables from the weekend:


- Warren defended Goldman Sach's Abacus deal --- and his reasoning (shocker!) made a lot of sense. They aren't completely out of the woods in my book, but his perspective helped calm and shift a lot of perspectives away from some of the more ravenous reporting that has taken place on the issue.

- Charlie Munger is a funny, funny man. I'm sure he knows he is, but he's so subtle that one wonders if he is brilliant or if he is an old loon. My money says he's both, but alas, I have no money.

- Buffett was on stage, and Bill Gates was in the front row. Very cool.

- Omaha's Old Market is a fine, quaint public square with some great restaurants and a great local scene. Omaha the city continues to leave an impression. I declare it impossible not to love.

- If you ever plan on attending the conference, I recommend flying to KC and driving up to Omaha. Beautiful drive, and you'll save hundred$ in the process. Then, once you get there, Warren will sell you on Geico, and you can save hundred$ more.

- The Warren & Charlie show is a can't miss. B shares are $85ish. Completely worth the price tag, both as an investment, and as a ticket to an incredible, funny, insightful conference.

Graduation...

Well, I'm graduating in a few days. I can't believe it's this close. I can't believe how fast it's gone by. Somewhere in this big, life event I have a blog entry. I mostly just wanted to get that out there to keep some blogging activity going, but I am also running desperately low on battery life.


For the moment, I'll just say that it's been a great journey, I've learned and grown so very much, and I trust that God is leading me where he wants. I know that sometimes he's going to lead me to places I don't want to go, and that's ok; for now, I'll celebrate that I enjoy this direction.

I'll write more later. I promise.

Yard Work

This morning, I and some friends dug up half of my front yard, replanted with fresh sod, and retook the landscaping on the side of the house and part of the back. I am so stinking tired. Grass is a very stubborn creature, especially when you try to uproot it. Now my lot has only one type of grass present, meaning I can save 10 minutes every year reading fertilizer bags to see what grasses are covered. Now, I'll just look for the big 'ST. AUGUSTINE' sign, grab a bag, and go.

10 minutes a year... I'm sure that is worth 11 people working 7 hours...

Actually, my non-St.A yard was infested with weeds, and seemed immune to whatever anti-weed stuff I put down. Now, I just see a nice green lawn. Hopefully I can remember to water it enough so that it stays that way.

Nothing about this post attempts to illustrate the enormity of this project. I have no words. Only aches, stink, and a lighter wallet. But, I can look out my window now and see a lawn that says something other than 'I have no work ethic.' I'm pretty happy with my lawn. I sincerely wish I'd taken before and after pictures. Perhaps I'll just post an 'after' and spare you the misery of my non-lawn that was.

Either way, I raise my glass of rehydrating agua to the fine young men of the UTA BSM:

May you each have long lives,
shared with pretty wives,
a house full of kids,
each with smart lids,
that one day will say,
in grateful display
"Your retirement I will pay,
since social security went away"

I can actually guarantee one of those lines...

The Fly and the Window

Thank you, God, for your love. You are better than the furthest reach of my imagination. You are stronger than the tides that beat the mountains smooth. You are taller than my mind can perceive. You see all things.


You see me at my worst and you see me at my best. My best isn't all that much. It's not good enough for heaven. You're good enough for heaven, and I can't understand just how good you are. I'm a long way off from 'good', even at my best.

You command worship, and your creation responds. Nothing is as it seems to my eyes. Yet you see. Trees stretch out as hands lifted. Waters sway back and forth, a dance you have always lead. The rocks cry out. 

My eyes wonder at your creation. Your ways are bigger than my little head.

---
I am so quick to cast blame. I am anxious. 

I set on you a crown of thorns. I am the thornweaver.

I rail against your gifts. I am the blind discontent. 

In my blindness, I declare a new law. I am a revolutionary.

I declare my law the new law. I am an old story.

I carry malice. I carry prejudice.

My prejudice is against you.

But you see me. Your eyes reveal the truth.

---
I am the fly and the window. My freedom is my arrogance is my prison.

I am the artist and the sage. My wisdom is my yearning is my desparate folly.

I am desperate for a truth that lets me hate you.

I am desperate.

You are not desperate.

You are content.

I hate that I can't fool you.

You are not a fool.

I long to fool the unfoolable.

I want to back you into a corner of logic.

You are unmovable.

Why aren't you corruptable? Why can't you compromise? Do you ever get tired of interrupting the life I want for myself? 

Yet I am the fly, and I am the window. 

That monstrous interruption of my existence is your hand. If you were so big, you could break the window and set me free. You probably wouldn't get hurt. Can God bleed? Instead, you sit there. You speak. 

You want to take me away from my window. But my window is me. I am the fly, and I am the window. Would you reject what you have made? Did you make a mistake? Was I a mistake, that you now seek to correct? If it's your fault, then you change me. You make it happen. I'll be right here, the fly and the window. 

Hear me, God, for I have spoken. Now I look through my window. I see the trees in bloom. I see the waters rise and fall. I see the mountains. Why am I drawn to them?

---
How can I say thank you? What are the words? 

Your hands are shepherds hands. You are the good shepherd. 

You lead me beside still waters. You lead me through the mountains and valleys alike. Your orchard bears fruit. 

You have the world by its corners, and you named the stars, and you call to them, and they answer your call. 

I am nothing. 

You extend your shepherds hand. You call me by my name. A new name.

My name is David. My name is Adam. My name is child. I hear your voice.

My wings are broken. I have fallen. I am nothing. 

Your hand I feared and hated. Your motives I criticized. Your goodness I rejected. I was the fly and the window.

Now my wings are broken. I am no longer a fly. 

I fell into your hand. You removed me from the window.

All I was and knew is gone. I am empty. I am nothing. 

You carry me to places unknown, untested, uncertain.

Yet you are certain. You are tested. You know.

You know my fears. You know my doubts. You know my ways and you know my secrets. I have no secrets anymore.

You carry me across a threshold. I am consumed by a new world that is as terrifying as it is beautiful. I cling to the hand I once hated.

Clinging, I am led beside still waters. Clinging tighter, I pass through the valley of death, and you are faithful to lead me out the other side. You are faithful.

You are faithful.

You are faithful.

I am a wingless fly. I have no window.

I have nothing.

I am nothing.

You are everything.

I am in your hands.

You are faithful.


On a lighthearted note...

Did any of you see The Tonight Show tonight? I may create a poll asking what controlled substance Terry Bradshaw had in his system.

It's moments like this I wish live shows still had the hook. Wow.

Better Than a Hallelujah...

I heard a song on the radio the other day that made me cry, which usually means it's worth sharing. It's called 'Better Than a Hallelujah', recorded by Amy Grant, written by Sarah Hall.

What a beautiful reminder of what God really wants out of us. He was big enough to give us big emotions and big thoughts, and he's wise enough to see the beauty of an honest cry from a place of pain. He became small enough to get down on our level and commune in the pain that sin brings, and he became big enough to transcend pain and death.

I still hurt, and I still have enough doubts to challenge how I know and trust God. Thankfully, he is still patient enough to walk me through my doubts, mature enough to love me through my immaturity, and loving enough to discern the pleadings I make from my points of pain as honest efforts to love him back. 

I am unable to understand why pain exists, but I recognize that sin prejudices me to blame God for my problems. When I take him at his word that he is good, and pour out my pain on him as an offering, I discover that God, along with all his peace and mercy and power and love, never moved. Only when I surrender my pride does he remove my prejudices and lead me from where I strayed, back to where he always was. Perhaps such moments really do please his ears exponentially more than our best efforts to carry a tune on Sundays. 

Wes Cunningham...

Today is a double-feature. Some of you know about Wes Cunningham, some do not. This post is for both groups. Wes last published an album, Pollyanna, circa 2000. The past few months, however, he has re-engaged with a string of new recordings. You can listen to them at wescunningham.bandcamp.com


I am known for exaggeration. Yet, I exaggerate not in saying that Wes's music is among the most treasured components of my music collection. He is a man ahead of his time, and he is walking proof that much of the best music will not be found on a record label. His story, which I might write at a later time, is a call to get out and support your local artists. Great music is not defined by profit-seeking producers. Get out there and discover music for yourself. 

In any case, Wes is my little example of under-the-radar greatness. I am proud to support him in his underground state. I don't care that he's now pushing 40. I still think he'll become famous, and I hope he does. He will if I am ever in a position to exert such influence. 

Anyway, that's enough to say for now. I hope you take a moment to visit his site, listen to his music, and decide for yourself. 

Magnanimous Epiphany...

I shall now use the word 'epiphany'.


Last week, I was struck by an epiphany of magnanimous proportion. (Magnanimous means generous, noble, and/or high-minded).

Why should I pay for something that is free? Herein is perhaps my only monetary peeve greater than paying for a good more than once (lost CDs, tolls on existing roads). 

There is an evil afoot. 

Ignorant consumers like myself have long paid for a good that is free. Forget TINSTAFL - we're past lunch time. I'm talking about legit freedom. Corporations took this free good, repackaged it, and sold it to us at what must be a staggering markup. So what exactly am I talking about?

Books.

That's right, books. In my forementioned ignorance, I had not until this past week considered the magnanimous law of public domain. Even the stingiest of nations (I'm looking at you, Russia) recognizes public domain circa 80 years following an author's death. Thus, the question(s) is posed:

- Is your favorite author dead?
- Did said author 'kick it' pre-1930?
- Do you enjoy non-exempt charitable donations?

If you find yourself drawn in by soothing color tones, matte finishes, and the artistic, pastoral cover images of the Barnes and Noble Classics series, your answer to the above is a resounding yes. 

Better idea - go to fullbooks.com. Find an old book. Read an old book. Enjoy your right to do so freely, given to you by every government on earth. You don't need Barnes & Noble. You don't need a Kindle or that oversized bad idea they call an iPad. 

I myself am on Chapter 5 of War and Peace. It's quite good.

Facelift...

Yes, the only reason I am writing this post is to entice you to take a look at the new skin I've put on my blog. After five years, I have decided to chuck the once-hip dot motif. I think this skin is at least a million times better.

Thanks again for reading. Hopefully I'll keep pace with some of the things I want to write.

Neat Blog...

So this is a first.


I've never before used my blog space to advertise another blog. Here goes.

One of my favorite authors (and people) is Ken Gire. In my college days (the first time around), I had the immense joy of working alongside his son Stephen in Colorado. Today, I discovered that Stephen and his three siblings began a blog to help keep Ken, Judy, and each other up to speed on their lives. The Gire artistic streak is alive and well, taking on unique but similar threads with each sibling.

I have no idea how much reading this blog will mean to others. I fell in love with that family a long time ago, so at the very least, I'm glad to share what has, for me at least, been a very special discovery.

Fwd: Valentine's Day...

The following is an email from my summer home through college, Wind River Ranch. Enjoy.




-------------
The following is a very short, yet enlightening, history of Valentine's Day:

According to church tradition, St. Valentine was a priest near Rome during the reign of Claudius II.  In one of the worst decisions of all time, Claudius banned marriage in an attempt to boost enlistment of soldiers.  His impaired thinking was that married men were too emotionally attached to their families, so to assure quality soldiers, he banned marriage.  Brilliant…

Valentine ignored this edict and continued to marry couples in secret. Claudius learned of this "friend of lovers," and had him arrested. The emperor, impressed with the young priest's dignity and conviction, attempted to convert him to the Roman gods to save him from certain execution. Valentine refused and actually attempted to convert the emperor to Christianity.  He was not successful and was sentenced to death shortly thereafter.  

While in prison, he befriended his jailor, Asterius. The jailor had a blind daughter who often came to visit them.  During one of these visits, God empowered Valentine to heal the daughter's blindness.  I imagine her visits became more frequent after that.  
On the day of his execution (February 14, 270), Valentine signed a farewell message to her, "From Your Valentine," a phrase that has lived ever after.  
 
Thus, Valentine became the Patron Saint of lovers and unknowingly began a tradition which has kept Hallmark and balloon bouquets in business for years!

Just think, the only reason we know Valentine's name is because he stood against the ridiculous culture of his day.  He held to the precepts of God, and did what God called him to do, even when it became very inconvenient for him to do so. 

You and I have that same choice to make.  In a society that says "if it feels good...do it" and where faithfulness equals stupidity, God expects us to live according to His principles. And in so doing, God is lifted up - and when God is lifted up, He draws people to Himself. 

So as you write your Valentine's Cards this year, remember that our love is different than the world's love.  Our love is a reflection of the Love we have received freely and generously… may we be as free and generous in sharing that Love with all we meet.        - Rob

"This is the message you heard from the beginning: we should love one another." - 1 John 3:11

The Thing About Airplanes...

As much as I try, I'm really no good at holding cards close to my chest. Most of my friends know the stuff I like the most, and as music goes, an Andrew Peterson reference likely evokes a collective 'that figures', to which I say that it could have been Rich Mullins.

This one comes from a hard-to-find album called 'Appendix A'. If you are ever so inclined, I believe you can purchase it from AP's artist community page, www.rabbitroom.com. The song is called 'The Thing About Airplanes'. AP is a master storyteller, and I'm so impressed the way these clear and relatable stories are told in a way that reveals so much truth.

The Thing About Airplanes
I left on a jet plane for faraway lands
but my expectations are much less than grand

‘cause I’m sitting here next to this overdressed man
and I only want you next to me

well, you know I love flying, especially at night
and I asked for the window, but I got the aisle
so I’m grumbling next to this overdressed guy
and I only want you next to me
yes I only want you next to me

this high road I’ve taken, this distance that kills
would be easier traveled if not for the guilt
‘cause it ain’t circumstances that drove us to this
no, I chose to be flying away

but that really don’t matter that much I suppose
in light of the distance between us that grows

‘cause I’m here and you’re there now and all that I know
is I don’t want to be on this plane
no, I don’t want to be on this plane

these clouds appear solid but the plane barrels through
an illusion of substance without any truth
so I’ll rest on your wings, Lord, and savor the view

and I won’t let my fear in the way
and I’ll try to consider it joy while I’m here
‘cause I read that I’m blessed if I persevere
God fashions a crown from the pain and the tears
and He carries us all of the way
yes, He carries me all of the way

now the thing about airplanes I noticed this time
is you can’t look ahead and you can’t look behind
but you can see where you are when you look out the side
and you can try to recover some peace

in these thunderhead mountains all cottony white
the works of my Maker I’m flying beside
but I can’t hardly see past this overdressed guy
oh, I only want you next to me
I only want you next to me.


AP is writing about his wife, and since I've been married, I can relate to this feeling whenever either of us travels for work or school. The funny thing about missing someone, (and learning to trust God - all that) is that even in marriage, I recognize a sense of longing and loneliness in marriage that I had when I was single. As close as I can get to Cara, I still feel like the guy on that plane. Why is that?

As much as I'd love to work through that now, I'm creeping up on 600 words, and you've endured enough from me for one post. Hopefully I'll get through that question soon, cause loneliness is a big deal. It was before I was married. It still is now. Even so, I trust God has his purposes, and I think even this question is one that can lead us closer to him.

Readership Update...

Toot your horns, and I don't mean fart. Readership hit 14 on Tuesday, flirting like a schoolgirl with my 2010 goal of 15. Effective immediately, I am issuing executive order 3.wtp-1 and raising the 2010 goal to 20. 


I know, you're asking, but Nathan, why do you care? Or maybe you are asking, are you just that self-absorbed that you constantly monitor who feeds your ego?

Actually, as much as anything, I'm just that obsessed with statistics. My guess is most of you unknown ego-feeders already know that. In any case, thanks for reading my drivel, and have a good Friday.

Ciao.

Funny Morning...

Do you ever have mornings when everything is slightly 'off'? Let's recap my first hour of conciousness:


- I walked around the house for 10 minutes looking for my jeans. I never thought to check the closet. They were in the closet. Where they belong.

- I got breakfast at Fuzzys. I get breakfast at Fuzzys every morning. Every. Morning. Today, exiting, I pushed the door from the hinge side. How did I do that? I push that door correctly every weekday morning, and today I messed it up.

- When I parked at campus, I reached up to shift into park and just missed the lever completely. I've had that car for 7 years and that's never happened.

- After I found my gear and parked, I reached down and pushed my seat belt release. I was surprised when nothing happened. Then I remembered that I wasn't buckled up to begin with.

Anyway, none of these are so stunning in their own right. But, for being such a creature of habit, these were an odd bunch of happenings to pair themselves in such a compact timeframe.

Sick Fun...

Yesterday, I played a riveting, down-to-the-wire match of disc golf. The match had all the right components: lead changes, narrow misses, narrow escapes, good company, and showboating that turned easy escapes into stupid misses. Oh yeah, and due to the cold weather and recent heavy rains, some holes were in the middle of their own ponds, and gentle streams were not so gentle. More on that later.


Let me set before you the scene heading into the final hole. My dear competitor was mired in a 3 stroke deficit through 11 holes. Due to unforgivable blunders, I squandered my lead, regained it, and squandered it all over again, all to find myself in a 1-stroke deficit leading into the treacherous 18th hole. This nonsensical terrain was the ultimate showdown stage. No clear paths, no strategy. All one could hope is, after hurling an aerodynamic prayer, that some way, some how, God would smile, and said prayer would miss the randomly-placed trees long enough to clear the gorge and the raging river below. Alas, not even God could smile at the ensuing throw, which promptly smacked off a nearby tree and descended into the waters below.

The next 30 minutes were spent walking up and down the riverbank, trying in earnest to spot the disc below the river surface. Finally, we found the little submariner, smack in the middle of a river that, due to the rain, was running rather high and rather fast. I then proceeded to wade into the river, the water up to my chins, retreive the disc, and play my shot. Keep in mind that North Texas has been in a bit of a freezing spell lately. Just that morning I was scraping ice off my wife's car. That river was wicked cold, and the 10-15 minutes I spent in it were enough to make Nathan-above-the-knees feel comparatively toasty. 

I lost the round by a stroke and walked back to the car wearing my soaked and freezing badge of courage. Forget that I lost the round. Forget that I got freezing wet. Forget that I actually ran some fever last night as a result. The whole experience was a rush. As much time as I squander doing unproductive activities, I recommend and support any such activities that get us out in nature and allow the negotiation of her obstacles. We men were born to play in the wild, and I for one am happy to do so, resulting fever or not.

Update on Vita de Natan...

'Natan' was my name in high school Spanish class. Apparently the letter 'h' gets lost in translation; perhaps because 'j' claimed the sound first, kind of like Tom Cruise in the movie 'Far and Away' where he waits obscenely long before planting his stake in the ground, and then yells in dramatic, Cruiseian fashion "This Land is Mine!". That's what I tjink jappened to "h".


I've enjoyed writing a bit over the last few weeks. I was out of practice. I've also realized in the same time how far out of touch I've fallen with many of my friends. I could blame school, but I make the time I make, and reaching out to a friend is not time-intensive. While I bet most are guilty of this to some extent, my fault is my own, and I'll try to do better.

School is moving along, careening towards closure. I have so much to do in the next 15 or so weeks, and top on that list is - no surprise here - find a job! I'm covering a lot of ground on this front, and I feel like something will land, but I'm not letting up until I receive a written offer. The University has a great network of employers, and I'm doing all I can to leverage those connections. As much as I would love to detail what those are, I expect that any employer intent on evaluating me will find this website, and far be it from me to say too much too soon. Actually, I've just now received a speck of inspiration. My next post, due out soon, will be an open letter to investigatory employers. If they want to sift through my virtual life, I am happy to meet them there and show them around.

The one snippet of specifics I will offer is that I was recently offered an internship role in China. That's right, China. Feels wierd saying it. 

...China... 

Anyway, a company in ...China... is looking to take their services to market in the US, and my role, as I understand it, is to help consult them through that process. As you may have guessed, this leads me to a significant philosophical contrast in how people respond to me when I tell them about ...well, you know...

The parties fall in two camps. Both congratulate me, and then pick a side. 

Side 1: Congratulations! This will be a great experience for you.
Side 2: Congratulations! This will look great on your resume.

You'll never guess to which side I assign value. Resumes are a necessary evil in the modern recruiting environment. They are necessary because recruiters don't have time to do much else in front-end evaluations. They are evil because anyone can write any combination of words on a page that make them look like Christ incarnate. I liken resumes to a modeling agency issuing an open call for candidates to take a head shot, photoshop it without mercy, and they then pick the prettiest 20 faces, or 10, or 5. What a mess. I feel a lot of sympathy for recruiters.
I value experience not because it makes me look good on paper, but because I have a better perspective with which to make difficult decisions. I look forward to this internship because it will challenge me to think and perceive challenges from a non-American standpoint, and because I get to meet new people, develop relationships with those people, and help them out. I will gain new friends I would otherwise never meet. 
I look forward to those relationships not for what I will gain from them, but for the enjoyment of community and a common purpose. I've tried to take that attitude into my MBA program as well, and I've developed some friendships I expect will carry forward a very long time. Perhaps business opportunities will come out of some such connections, but I subscribe to the view that people want to be loved unconditional of what they are prospectively worth. This is not a groundbreaking idea, but with many, love separate from perceived worth runs thick in praise and thin in practice.

Beyond these thoughts, a year in grad school has given me a year to reflect and mature in many of my perspectives. I am very excited about what lays ahead, and soon enough I'll be on my way.

But not too soon, of course.

Cause for Celebration...

Thanks to my recent flurry of activity, TETSAEIB (or, Tet-Say-Ib) has crossed a popularity threshold. As of January 19th, roughly four and a half years into this humble effort, you, the loyal subscribers, you merry few (emphasis on few), are now in double digits.


That's right. Last Wednesday, those following my drivel busted through the ceiling, jumping an unheard-of 2 subscribers in a single day, from 9 to 11 (enter Spinal Tap reference now). 

More drivel will surely follow, and I have mostly no idea who reads this stuff anyway. Regardless, thank you for sticking with me through my writing lulls and spats of terrible literary construction, and here's to a fruitful 2010. 

ps - Goal for 2010: 15 subscribers. Yeah, I said it.

A Really, Long, Conversation...

A friend and I started a conversation eight years ago that has progressed in no more than five or six sittings, but on it goes. Tonight, I extended the conversation, replying to an email of his that has floundered at the bottom of my inbox since 2008. 


The conversation is based on a segment of G.K. Chesterton's book, Orthodoxy, where Chesterton contrasts the rationalist and the mystic. Somehow, over time, we adapted these figures into the scientist and the poet. The illustration still carries, and I felt like our last two exchanges, which span almost two years, were worth sharing. I'd wait for his response, but that might not happen for a very long time.


His Question

Well this is an odd email to be sure, but you and i are both of us odd people.  In my time this morning i was pondering a problem that you brought to my attention many years ago.  i think i was a freshman.  the question before us was which is better, i believe.  the poet or the scientist... here after all these years i have my answer... enjoy.

There were five men standing upon the farthest bank of a raging sea.  The winds howled, the waves cast themselves upon the shore.  They said one to another.  We have henceforth explored all there is to explore on this dusty sod whereupon we have found ourselves to be trodding.  Let us endeavor as best as we are able to explore this strange and terrible foe before which we stand.

The first of them crafted a simple craft and leaping into it began to sail away.  Rejoicing in the height of the waves and the strength of the wind, he was carried away.  The others watched him progress with amazement.

The second began swimming with all his might.  He began to swim to the bottom and explore the depths of the sea.  He rejoiced to see the crevices and corals that populated the great mass of life beyond what we call the liveable.

The others began to lament and mourn, for they lacked the courage to venture out as the others.  There also arose between them no end of quarrel in regards to their purpose.  They covenanted between themselves that they would not set begin their endeavors until they had resolved to follow the path of the first or the second.

By the by, they came to an odd understanding.  Why should not they do both?  Albeit, why should they not do both together, for as they began their labors they found that one of them had great skill in building a vessel, while another helped.  Both rejoiced.  The other soon discovered within himself the burning desire to invite others who wandered by to join them in their quest.

The day arrived when they were to embark.  With great joy these three began their journey.  Together delighting in the depths, the waves, and the currents.  Rejoicing all the more that they went together.

He who has ears to hear let him hear.  May one with wisdom be able to instruct me in which path is best.

well that's it.  what do you think?


My Response

I actually haven't forgotten about this email. It slowly sank, much like I expect the 2nd person did, to the bottom of my inbox, where it has remained until now. 

Without too much effort, I assume you perceive a poet's bias on my part. If so, then you are correct. That said, I also think that, depending on the reader, one could perceive both groups in either role and find very adequate ways to justify their view. I will thus make my best attempt to justify mine.

Chesterton writes that the poet, upon lifting his head through the clouds, seeks only to set his head into the heavens. The rationalist, by contrast, seeks to fit the heavens into his head, and it is his head, then, that splits. 

To practically illustrate this point, I will illuminate a conversation I overheard not 10 minutes ago at Starbucks. A young man and a young woman were having a rather deep conversation, and it became quickly apparent that he liked her and wanted to pursue a relationship. She is a Christ follower; he is not, though he had claimed to be in prior times. She held her ground well, and asked great questions. I think she was semi-formally trained in apologetic processes. His perspective was that God couldn't be believed because his existence couldn't be proven. The poor guy seemed to believe a lot of good things that aren't far off from the truth, and we both know how damaging the American church can be to inquisitive people on the edge of faith.

His frustration was evident, but his thought processes were underlaid with a layer of self-righteousness. He wanted to open up God-related questions of discovery, but all the while put an impetus of hard proof on belief, as if non-existence was any more provable. The point is, he was unwilling to accept what he could not fully understand. He seems to have lived life for some time in effort to fit God into his understanding, and when that plan broke down, he moved to a more ambiguous paradigm that requires little effort to understand because it is comparatively uncomplicated. But, as I hope he will learn in time, though his new paradigm is uncomplicated, it is also very narrow, and cannot lead to lasting satisfaction.

I acknowledge that, among the God's better qualities is his ability to confuse the poop out of me. I don't understand the man and I never will. He doesn't want me to; not all that well, anyway. I think God just wants me to understand that he's really big, he loves me, and he's not one to be tested or tamed. He is wild by my perspective. But I imagine perfection is quite wild and rogue - rather avant-garde to an imperfect person who doesn't know any better. What God does give me, however, is an ability to exist amidst his wildness. The Bible, I am convinced, is not meant to answer all my questions or give me a guidebook for life. Rather, God has provided me a story of his character and love, enough that I can relate to his innate wonder and goodness, even in the midst of all I can't understand or control.

When I buy into all of that, I am best equipped not only to associate with him, but also to share and develop communion among others so inclined. The only way such a community can happen, however, is when the parts constituting the whole are, in some capacity, free of a paradigm that demands complete understanding. In doing so, the community can move forward in a true path of discovery; not for answers, but for the enjoyment of a God who, though very wild, is also very good.

I hope my answer was worth the wait.

Redemption...

Just felt like writing a quick note on redemption.


Not to over-generalize or start of with something overly fluffy, but I'm overcome this morning in a realization of how difficult life can be at times. As Christians, we rail and rail against our fallen selves and work so hard to respond to God's love, and we fail so often. Then, we feel bad, and tell God we're sorry, and pick ourselves up, and start the process all over again.

Is this what life is about? I for one have often viewed life through the lens of this cycle. While I believe that sin, guilt, repentance and redemption are all elements of the human experience, the cycle itself seems so vicious, like an endless exercise, three fourths of which just kick my butt. I know there's a solution in there, and I think the components are legitimate, so I've decided my struggle isn't with sin, guilt, repentance, and redemption, but perhaps in the system or lens through which I view them. 

Paraphrasing Chesterton, a common problem is not forming a logical system of beliefs and practices, but instead seeking the system that allows us the greatest degree of freedom. Chesterton refers to many such systems as circles. A circle has no beginning and no end; no loose ends, so to speak. So often goes with many belief systems; they are logical circles. 

His contention is that logical circles, though systematically perfect, still bind their subscriber. Circles pervade our existence. Many belief systems exist which the best of men could not disprove. If I claimed I were Christ incarnate, what case could be made against me? After all, the world rejected him the first time around; why not again? My point is that these systems, though logically consistent, are bound in size. They are always limited. I might be Christ, but I also can't even find my keys most mornings, each point is indisputable, but each point defines the capacity of my logical circle, and that circle is, I assume, somewhat less than we might hope for a messiah. 

What Chesterton discovered, in his rogue, radical attempt to build from the ground up a philosophical answer to religion, discovered an avant-garde fragment of spirituality that operated independent and in brash violation of circular belief systems. To his surprise, he found orthodox Christianity, which for its systematic oddities can hardly be called a system of belief. It certainly isn't circular. Unlike belief systems that work to eliminate conflict, Christianity brazenly associates herself with conflict. To entrust one's faith to her is to accept a world of talking donkeys, chariots of fire, nine-hundred year old men, rivers of blood, angels of death that are really good, angels of light that are really bad, forming men from dust, raising them from the dead, healing their ears, eyes, legs, tongues, illnesses, and relieving their deep and unspoken fears. Christianity makes room in her heart for the low things of the world, be they that in stature, dignity, or moral conviction. Christianity openly courts the worst of sinners, and holds intimately close even those she knows will betray her. Christianity knows even Judas should know love. 

At the heart of Christianity is conflict, and the cross reflects this conflict at its core. But, from that point of conflict, her arms stretch forth in infinite length, reaching forth without prejudice or limitation.

So coming back again to the redemption idea. I often love and loathe redemption all at once. I love redemption because it is very, well, redemptive. I sometimes loathe redemption because of the bigger cycle within which I view redemption. What I am beginning to realize is that, to view life in that cycle is to strip the gospel of its power, and to reduce Christianity to another religious system, which entices with its order but frustrates with its scope. Christianity is not a system. Christianity is Jesus Christ. Our faith is not bound up in principles, or methods, or rules. The basis of our faith is not static, but dynamic. I cannot overstate how radical and outlandish is such a faith. 

A static faith allows for cycles that condemn and redeem, and a static faith always tells the same story. Like any idol or monument, static faith leans on its subscribers, always requiring their efforts to correct the disrepair of time and age. When I view redemption within a cycle, I eventually despair at the constant work to keep my faith from crumbling. And, therein, we find the key. The idea that I work to keep my faith upright is truly static. Our faith is self-contained, and any conception we have of God is self-contrived. He takes on our appearance, and, doing so, becomes no less limited than if we claimed ourselves as the messiah who loses his keys. Can you see how perfect this circle has become, and yet how pathetically small it always was? 

Orthodox Christianity, by contrast, is completely wrapped up in the person, power, and credibility of a risen Jesus Christ. Our faith is not defined in cycles. Rather, God made us because he wanted to; gave us life and gave us some degree of freedom, and he shared life and goodness with us. We bailed on that idea in order to create little circular worlds, run the way we think is best. Since then, God has done a lot of work to give us a second look at that idea. For those of us that returned to him, we still bear the damage of our original failing. We have an inclination to view the world in these little compartments that make sense but sap us of any lasting joy. But, despite all of that, God is pulling us out of those compartments and replacing all of the damage we did to ourselves in the process. His efforts are not comfortable, but therein lies my point. Redemption is not painful because it is futile. Rather, redemption is painful because it is working. God is still working, in his dynamic and beautiful way. We are not pressured to develop systems, or really do much at all. If anything, he asks that we stop trying to do his work for him. We tried that already. It didn't work.

I wish I didn't sin, but I do. God knows I do and he knows I'll do it a lot more in my life. All the while, he keeps kneading and shaping me from this awful and cold circle back into something that resembles what he had in mind when he made me. This is redemption, and it's alive.