The following is an excerpt from Donald Miller's blog. It's awesome. However, I do not agree with him. I'll tell you why later. Consider this the proposal and my next post the retort.
Charity: Water
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Monday, April 26, 2010
The Power of the Tongue
This morning in my Educational Psychology class, we watched a documentary called "A Class Divided," by PBS Frontline. The film is about a 3rd grade teacher named Jane Elliot teaching at a school in Riceville, Iowa, an almost all-white town. As Elliot recalls, it was right after Martin Luther King Jr. was murdered, and blatant racism plagued America. She was watching the news, and journalists kept asking black people that were a part of the civil rights movement what they were going to do about their people now that their leader had been assassinated. What would their people do now? Elliot says she was disgusted by this subtly condescending language, this language ridden with racism beneath the surface, this language distinguishing between an "us" and a "them" based on skin color.
Elliot decided to push back all of her lesson plans for the week and do a unit on discrimination. Her class of 28 third graders was all white. She began by asking the students about racism, what they thought about black people, Indian people, people that looked different from them. Words like "nigger" and "stupid" and "dirty" slipped out of the mouths of young, developing, frighteningly impressionable minds. When asked, the students said that it wasn't fair to judge others based on factors like skin color, but this mentality of "us" and "them," this racism, was deeply imprinted on these children.
What happened next amazes me. Elliot plays no games. She tells her class directly that they are going to do an experiment for the children to understand discrimination better. Dividing the class into two groups, brown eyes and blue eyes, Elliot tells the class that blue eyed people are naturally better people. They're stronger, smarter, more responsible--better. Brown eyed people, however, are lazy, irresponsible, and much more stupid. They make bad decisions and just aren't as smart. Collars were passed around for all of the brown eyed students to put around their necks, that way the blue eyed students would be able to tell from a distance. Blue eyed children received 5 extra minutes of recess, access to the water fountain, extra attention from the teacher, and were treated as superior students to their brown-eyed peers. Elliot even instructed her blue eyed students not to communicated with the brown eyed students and not to play with them because they were better than those brown eyes.
Before long, the class began to perpetuate this mentality that Mrs. Elliot was feeding them through their behavior. When a brown eyed student would do something wrong, a blue eyed student would blurt out, "It's because they're brown eyes." Little undercuts like that. During recess, the children actually listened to Mrs. Elliot; no blue eyed children played with brown eyed children. A fight even broke out between two previous friends, and a brown eyed boy punched a blue eyed boy in the gut for calling him "brown eyes." The students began excluding other children and making condescending comments about the other students' intelligence and capability based solely on eye color.
The next day, Mrs. Elliot told her students that she had lied to them the previous day: brown eyed students were really better than blue eyed students. The collars traded owners, and the top became the new bottom, yesterday's bottom the new top. And the exact same behavior occurred. Mrs. Elliot taught this same lesson for three consecutive years with different classrooms, and she received the same results every single time. I know. Terrifying. It's appalling to see how easily discrimination can breed and infest someone so quickly, especially our children. Obviously, there are huge truths here about racism, sexism, and discrimination of any kind.
However, what's haunted me all day is a truth much more universal I believe. Mrs. Elliot tested the students each day that she conducted this experiment. The students on top consistently scored higher on assessments. The students on bottom consistently scored lower. Reverse the standards, put the top on the bottom and the bottom on the top, and the results are the same. After this experiment with her students, Mrs. Elliot always has a debriefing. She explains to her students that discrimination is not only illogical but wrong. No matter what your skin color, eye color, or whatever, each one of you is intelligent and beautiful. Each one of you is great. After the debriefing, all the testing scores of all the students were higher for the remainder of the year.
Astounding.
In only 24 hours, students changed completely. They freaking scored higher if the teacher said that they belonged to the smart group. If they belonged to this smart group, children felt better about themselves, tried harder, scored higher. As Eliot states herself, "Almost without exception, the students' scores go up on the day they're on the top, down on the day they're on the bottom, and then maintain a higher level for the rest of the year." Something strange happens to these children that alters their academic abilities. They realize their intelligence, their greatness. It's incredible to think about how spoken words can influence children so drastically within the classroom environment in a simple 24 hour time-frame.
Proverbs says that "Death and life are in the power of the tongue" (Proverbs 18:21).
In America, suicide is the second highest cause of death for teenagers. In America, 2.5 million juveniles are arrested every year. In America, 74.9% of whites graduate high school, 50.2% of blacks, 53.2% of Latinos, and 51.1% of American Indians. (Swanson, 20004)
What the hell kind of words are we speaking to our children?!
If spoken words can have such a drastic influence on children within the classroom, imagine the effect, the eternal effect, that our words can have if we speak LIFE into a child. If we pour LIFE words into a child, imagine the effect that our words can have on that child's destiny. Rob Bell says, "Jesus reminds his disciples, ‘You did not choose me, but I chose you.’ People in the Scriptures essentially are loved into their futures. Think of how many of us had encouraging or affirming or inspiring words spoken to us years ago about our worth, our value, our future, and how those words shaped us. We often carry those words of agape around with us our whole lives.”
Seriously, what kind of message are we giving our children and our youth?
Elliot decided to push back all of her lesson plans for the week and do a unit on discrimination. Her class of 28 third graders was all white. She began by asking the students about racism, what they thought about black people, Indian people, people that looked different from them. Words like "nigger" and "stupid" and "dirty" slipped out of the mouths of young, developing, frighteningly impressionable minds. When asked, the students said that it wasn't fair to judge others based on factors like skin color, but this mentality of "us" and "them," this racism, was deeply imprinted on these children.
What happened next amazes me. Elliot plays no games. She tells her class directly that they are going to do an experiment for the children to understand discrimination better. Dividing the class into two groups, brown eyes and blue eyes, Elliot tells the class that blue eyed people are naturally better people. They're stronger, smarter, more responsible--better. Brown eyed people, however, are lazy, irresponsible, and much more stupid. They make bad decisions and just aren't as smart. Collars were passed around for all of the brown eyed students to put around their necks, that way the blue eyed students would be able to tell from a distance. Blue eyed children received 5 extra minutes of recess, access to the water fountain, extra attention from the teacher, and were treated as superior students to their brown-eyed peers. Elliot even instructed her blue eyed students not to communicated with the brown eyed students and not to play with them because they were better than those brown eyes.
Before long, the class began to perpetuate this mentality that Mrs. Elliot was feeding them through their behavior. When a brown eyed student would do something wrong, a blue eyed student would blurt out, "It's because they're brown eyes." Little undercuts like that. During recess, the children actually listened to Mrs. Elliot; no blue eyed children played with brown eyed children. A fight even broke out between two previous friends, and a brown eyed boy punched a blue eyed boy in the gut for calling him "brown eyes." The students began excluding other children and making condescending comments about the other students' intelligence and capability based solely on eye color.
The next day, Mrs. Elliot told her students that she had lied to them the previous day: brown eyed students were really better than blue eyed students. The collars traded owners, and the top became the new bottom, yesterday's bottom the new top. And the exact same behavior occurred. Mrs. Elliot taught this same lesson for three consecutive years with different classrooms, and she received the same results every single time. I know. Terrifying. It's appalling to see how easily discrimination can breed and infest someone so quickly, especially our children. Obviously, there are huge truths here about racism, sexism, and discrimination of any kind.
However, what's haunted me all day is a truth much more universal I believe. Mrs. Elliot tested the students each day that she conducted this experiment. The students on top consistently scored higher on assessments. The students on bottom consistently scored lower. Reverse the standards, put the top on the bottom and the bottom on the top, and the results are the same. After this experiment with her students, Mrs. Elliot always has a debriefing. She explains to her students that discrimination is not only illogical but wrong. No matter what your skin color, eye color, or whatever, each one of you is intelligent and beautiful. Each one of you is great. After the debriefing, all the testing scores of all the students were higher for the remainder of the year.
Astounding.
In only 24 hours, students changed completely. They freaking scored higher if the teacher said that they belonged to the smart group. If they belonged to this smart group, children felt better about themselves, tried harder, scored higher. As Eliot states herself, "Almost without exception, the students' scores go up on the day they're on the top, down on the day they're on the bottom, and then maintain a higher level for the rest of the year." Something strange happens to these children that alters their academic abilities. They realize their intelligence, their greatness. It's incredible to think about how spoken words can influence children so drastically within the classroom environment in a simple 24 hour time-frame.
Proverbs says that "Death and life are in the power of the tongue" (Proverbs 18:21).
In America, suicide is the second highest cause of death for teenagers. In America, 2.5 million juveniles are arrested every year. In America, 74.9% of whites graduate high school, 50.2% of blacks, 53.2% of Latinos, and 51.1% of American Indians. (Swanson, 20004)
What the hell kind of words are we speaking to our children?!
If spoken words can have such a drastic influence on children within the classroom, imagine the effect, the eternal effect, that our words can have if we speak LIFE into a child. If we pour LIFE words into a child, imagine the effect that our words can have on that child's destiny. Rob Bell says, "Jesus reminds his disciples, ‘You did not choose me, but I chose you.’ People in the Scriptures essentially are loved into their futures. Think of how many of us had encouraging or affirming or inspiring words spoken to us years ago about our worth, our value, our future, and how those words shaped us. We often carry those words of agape around with us our whole lives.”
Seriously, what kind of message are we giving our children and our youth?
Friday, April 16, 2010
What Teachers Make
One of my friends showed me this poet. He's quickly becoming one of my favorites. The poem I've chosen to highlight by posting it here is the one that speaks to me the most. If language offends you, I apologize now. Try to see past and get the message. Imagine the difference if we were all so intentional and deliberate, especially our teachers.
What Teachers Make, or
Objection Overruled, or
If things don't work out, you can always go to law school
By Taylor Mali
He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about
teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.
I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests
that it's also true what they say about lawyers.
Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company.
"I mean, you¹re a teacher, Taylor," he says.
"Be honest. What do you make?"
And I wish he hadn't done that
(asked me to be honest)
because, you see, I have a policy
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best.
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won't I let you get a drink of water?
Because you're not thirsty, you're bored, that's why.
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
I hope I haven't called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today.
Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?"
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And then I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely
beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this (the finger).
Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a g-d difference! What about you?
What Teachers Make, or
Objection Overruled, or
If things don't work out, you can always go to law school
By Taylor Mali
He says the problem with teachers is, "What's a kid going to learn
from someone who decided his best option in life was to become a teacher?"
He reminds the other dinner guests that it's true what they say about
teachers:
Those who can, do; those who can't, teach.
I decide to bite my tongue instead of his
and resist the temptation to remind the other dinner guests
that it's also true what they say about lawyers.
Because we're eating, after all, and this is polite company.
"I mean, you¹re a teacher, Taylor," he says.
"Be honest. What do you make?"
And I wish he hadn't done that
(asked me to be honest)
because, you see, I have a policy
about honesty and ass-kicking:
if you ask for it, I have to let you have it.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could.
I can make a C+ feel like a Congressional medal of honor
and an A- feel like a slap in the face.
How dare you waste my time with anything less than your very best.
I make kids sit through 40 minutes of study hall
in absolute silence. No, you may not work in groups.
No, you may not ask a question.
Why won't I let you get a drink of water?
Because you're not thirsty, you're bored, that's why.
I make parents tremble in fear when I call home:
I hope I haven't called at a bad time,
I just wanted to talk to you about something Billy said today.
Billy said, "Leave the kid alone. I still cry sometimes, don't you?"
And it was the noblest act of courage I have ever seen.
I make parents see their children for who they are
and what they can be.
You want to know what I make?
I make kids wonder,
I make them question.
I make them criticize.
I make them apologize and mean it.
I make them write, write, write.
And then I make them read.
I make them spell definitely beautiful, definitely beautiful, definitely
beautiful
over and over and over again until they will never misspell
either one of those words again.
I make them show all their work in math.
And hide it on their final drafts in English.
I make them understand that if you got this (brains)
then you follow this (heart) and if someone ever tries to judge you
by what you make, you give them this (the finger).
Let me break it down for you, so you know what I say is true:
I make a g-d difference! What about you?
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Bloody Right Toe
Oh, but I'm not done.
I hate seeing people live for their ministries because they love their ministries. I know, sounds weird. The thing is, when we finally figure out what it is God created us for, it is awesome! There's nothing more that we want than to dive into that one thing--whether loving kids, building homes, healing sick, enriching education, whatever. Finally, we find something worth pouring everything into. We give all that we are to this one thing. Everything. It's exhausting and painful, and we grow tired and weary and drained in our service. But, Love inspires us again. We find new energy and motivation and passion, and we jump back in.
This is a good thing, but it's so dangerous. Our ministry should be a means to God, but too often it becomes our end, our God. We do it because we've finally found something that encourages us, something that brings us purpose and joy and affirmation, because that's what we were created for, right? Ephesians 2 talks about how God created us for the good works s/he prepared for us to do long ago. So yes--we were created to do good works, but that was never supposed to be our focus. When our ministry versus our God becomes our focus, we start experiencing doubt and jealousy and gobs of other emotions. And we wonder why we're so burned out.
It's just so hard when we finally find that one thing in life that we really care about. Before long, we start doing that one thing for that one thing's own sake and not because it's the best way we can respond to God. Our expressions of love for others in our ministries should come of the overflow of love we have for God. It has to come out of that overflow. The problem when we start focusing on our ministry first and God second is that "then our service becomes self-centered instead of God centered, people- rather than God-pleasing" (Marva Dawn, Joy In Weakness). When this happens, our ministry has lost all effectiveness.
I love what Marva Dawn says on this subject. She goes on to say: "We cannot do eternal work if we do not work for the sake of the eternal One. We mistake the journey for its end and love the road instead of the One who called us to walk on it. This is an especially great danger because then our service points to the wrong focus. We do not direct others to God, but to our work, our deeds, ourselves."
Yes, I am preaching to myself. I'm trying to constantly talk to my kids and others about God, how God can renew and transform and change us. I have no right to make these claims, though, if I am not allowing God to do these things in my own life, to transform me.
I have a lot of thoughts running through my head right now. I guess the point I'm trying to make is where are you pointing? Is your ministry a response of your love for God, or is your ministry your first love? Is everything you do pointing back to your own work and your own ministries, or is everything you do pointing back to God?
(Also, if what I've said here doesn't apply to you only because you don't think you have a ministry, find one now! Look around you, go back to your bloody left toe, and care about something. The world can't afford to wait. Something isn't getting done in God's kingdom because of our present inaction.)
I hate seeing people live for their ministries because they love their ministries. I know, sounds weird. The thing is, when we finally figure out what it is God created us for, it is awesome! There's nothing more that we want than to dive into that one thing--whether loving kids, building homes, healing sick, enriching education, whatever. Finally, we find something worth pouring everything into. We give all that we are to this one thing. Everything. It's exhausting and painful, and we grow tired and weary and drained in our service. But, Love inspires us again. We find new energy and motivation and passion, and we jump back in.
This is a good thing, but it's so dangerous. Our ministry should be a means to God, but too often it becomes our end, our God. We do it because we've finally found something that encourages us, something that brings us purpose and joy and affirmation, because that's what we were created for, right? Ephesians 2 talks about how God created us for the good works s/he prepared for us to do long ago. So yes--we were created to do good works, but that was never supposed to be our focus. When our ministry versus our God becomes our focus, we start experiencing doubt and jealousy and gobs of other emotions. And we wonder why we're so burned out.
It's just so hard when we finally find that one thing in life that we really care about. Before long, we start doing that one thing for that one thing's own sake and not because it's the best way we can respond to God. Our expressions of love for others in our ministries should come of the overflow of love we have for God. It has to come out of that overflow. The problem when we start focusing on our ministry first and God second is that "then our service becomes self-centered instead of God centered, people- rather than God-pleasing" (Marva Dawn, Joy In Weakness). When this happens, our ministry has lost all effectiveness.
I love what Marva Dawn says on this subject. She goes on to say: "We cannot do eternal work if we do not work for the sake of the eternal One. We mistake the journey for its end and love the road instead of the One who called us to walk on it. This is an especially great danger because then our service points to the wrong focus. We do not direct others to God, but to our work, our deeds, ourselves."
Yes, I am preaching to myself. I'm trying to constantly talk to my kids and others about God, how God can renew and transform and change us. I have no right to make these claims, though, if I am not allowing God to do these things in my own life, to transform me.
I have a lot of thoughts running through my head right now. I guess the point I'm trying to make is where are you pointing? Is your ministry a response of your love for God, or is your ministry your first love? Is everything you do pointing back to your own work and your own ministries, or is everything you do pointing back to God?
(Also, if what I've said here doesn't apply to you only because you don't think you have a ministry, find one now! Look around you, go back to your bloody left toe, and care about something. The world can't afford to wait. Something isn't getting done in God's kingdom because of our present inaction.)
Bloody Left Toe
Care about something! I am so freaking sick of seeing people not care. Sleep, class, eat, sleep, chill, work, party, sleep, class, eat, chill, work, party, sleep... I hate seeing people just existing. What are you doing with your life? Well, one day I'm going to be a doctor. Oh my goodness. Someone bake some friggin cookies and give that person two of em! I'm talking about the here and now. I look around and I see too many people going through the motions, living in a routine, not really caring about something. I don't even care if all you care about is your bloody left toe. Just care about something! and surround yourself with that thing. Pour time, money, energy, emotions into something. Invest everything you have, everything you are.
Oh, but there's so much risk. Nothing's really worth all of that. Well, except for me. I'm worth all of that stuff.
College is so egocentric. Someone (we shall say this person is male) spends his entire senior year of high school trying to figure out where he wants to go to school, how he can get scholarships, what he can do to begin the rest of his life. He goes to college and has his own little cute dorm room, and his own little cute friend group. He has his own specific major, and he's here to further his education. And then he stresses out about the rest of his life--where will he live, what will he do, what jobs will he get. What does he want in life. But wait! He's a Christian. And look! He's going on a short-term mission trip. And it makes him look good and him feel good about himself. And he goes on for the rest of his life, getting his own education, getting his own job, making his own money, having his own life.
College. It can all be so self-serving.
Oh, but there's so much risk. Nothing's really worth all of that. Well, except for me. I'm worth all of that stuff.
College is so egocentric. Someone (we shall say this person is male) spends his entire senior year of high school trying to figure out where he wants to go to school, how he can get scholarships, what he can do to begin the rest of his life. He goes to college and has his own little cute dorm room, and his own little cute friend group. He has his own specific major, and he's here to further his education. And then he stresses out about the rest of his life--where will he live, what will he do, what jobs will he get. What does he want in life. But wait! He's a Christian. And look! He's going on a short-term mission trip. And it makes him look good and him feel good about himself. And he goes on for the rest of his life, getting his own education, getting his own job, making his own money, having his own life.
College. It can all be so self-serving.
The ideas of this blog, including the phrase "I don't even care if all you care about is your bloody left toe. Just care about something!" are brought to you by the inspiration of Heather Wright.
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
We Are Disconnected
We are disconnected.
My little brother says I don't know how to keep a girl. He walked up to me, and I could tell he had something troubling him, that he had been thinking about something heavy for a while. He said, "Keith, I'm worried about you. You keep losing your girlfriends. College is the time when you're supposed to find a wife, and you only have two more semesters left. You need to take this more seriously, Keith, or you're going to end up unmarried and unhappy for life." He's 13, and he already knows more about life than I do. He says he's not going to start dating until college, because high school dating is immature and troublesome. He also says that when he starts dating a girl, he's going to pick her right and then keep that sucker for life. I've decided to start going to him when I need relationship advice.
On Monday, a kid I met on a F.O.C.U.S. trip a couple months ago called me wanting to talk about his girlfriend, who he thought was cheating on him. I realize I probably should have just handed the phone to my little brother. But anyways, he was really upset and didn't want to lose her, but it was pretty clear she didn't hold their relationship in a position of as much priority as he did. Also, over break, I fussed at another friend of mine for being so exclusive and intense in his relationship with his girlfriend. Yes, their love sickens me, so that's part of it. The other part I just couldn't grasp was how needy my friend seemed, how being connected to this other person was necessary for their happiness.
Last night, I had a dream where I started dating my seventh grade girlfriend again. It was a crazy dream full of drama and romance, an episode more than worthy of appearing on a Spanish Soap Opera. The night before, I dreamed about my future wife. We were sitting at the table and talking. That was the extent of my dream, and I never saw her face, so if dream-wife is the same as future real-life-wife, I have no clue what she looks like. The night before that, I had another dating/marriage dream. I know, I'm asking the same question you are: what's wrong with me? To that, I answer... Well, I have no clue. I guess all of this stems from the same thing for me. I don't want to be alone in life--none of us do--so I connect myself with lots of people, dating being one of the ways to do that. What my track record tells me is that for some reason I feel separated from something or someone, and I have this deep, driving need to be in relationship. I know I've been using girl-guy/dating examples, but I think you can take sexuality out of it and it still be the same issue. I'm inadequate and incomplete alone, and I'll do anything and assume any label to surround myself with others, even if I never build any solid, lasting relationships with anyone. I would say it all boils down to belonging to someone, whether that's a wife or a father or a child, just belonging.
We are disconnected.
I feel closest to God when I'm away. I hear God's voice and see reality clearer when I'm away, away from technology, and away from electricity, and away from buildings, and away from civilization. Into the wild: that's where I find God. Over Easter break, I woke up early one morning, threw on some sneakers (I love the word "sneakers." I realize no one says this anymore, but I love it), grabbed my iPod and my Bible, and started walking. For any of you Gardner-Webbers out there, I left my suite and started walking through my woods across from Broyhill. My woods. It's where I go when I want to get away. God gave them to me. About a mile into the woods, I realized how stupid I am: I'm trying to get away from civilization and technology, and the whole time, my earplugs are in and music is blasting, and I'm checking my phone for new text messages. So I put my iPod, cell phone, and even my Bible in my bag and left it beneath a tree, walking further into the woods without my ties to the human world. (sidenote: took me forever to find that blasted bag a couple hours later. Go figure.)
It's amazing what you hear when you take your iPod out of your ears, get away from cars and buzzing and ringing and the noises of civilization. Life. You hear life. Stuff that seems small--like wind rustling leaves above your head, sticks crunching beneath your feet, birds singing, bugs clicking, water trickling--suddenly seems so real, so alive. I know that probably sounds dumb, but it's true. When that hit me, I felt like I had received some private revelation from God. Being alone with just God and nature is how it's supposed to be. I just kept walking and listening to life. I crossed some woods, a field, some small streams. I saw deer tracks and what I think are raccoon tracks. I saw lots of birds and insects. When I was crossing the field, I saw four wild turkeys. Life everywhere, and beautiful. And then... (I hope you hear the subtle change to a more ominous tone)...I saw a person. A person! These are my woods! What are people doing out here! Contaminating and polluting the beautiful world God privileged only me with! And that's what I genuinely was thinking. I was thinking that there's no way this person appreciates nature like I do. I immediately turned around and started walking out of the woods. That person ruined it for me.
On my way out, I saw a pipe leaking thick, murky liquid into one of the streams. It smelled like garbage. I guess at first I was thinking about how this world was untouched by people, which was something I liked about it. Maybe I was just looking for signs now, but I began to see evidence of people everywhere. I saw old fire pits with aluminum foil left in the ashes; I saw coke bottles, and candy wrappers, and even a freaking condom. Really? A condom? My progression of thinking throughout all of this and all of the trash I saw in those woods--trash I did not even pick up--tells me a lot. It tells me that there's some sort of gap between nature and humanity. Somewhere along the line, we lost our vision to see the innate beauty and value in nature. Somewhere along the line, we lost our responsibility to nature.
We are disconnected.
Going off of the whole nature idea, sometimes I like to think of myself as living by the Tao of Emerson and Thoreau. However, I'm clearly not a transcendentalist or a Romantic--as much as I'd like to think I am--, and the second I realize I'm not that, I label myself with this. When this falls through, I label myself with another that. Christian. Universalist. Universalist-Christian. Republican. Socialist. Democrat. Feminist. Student. Teacher. Role model. Friend. Boyfriend. Leader. Follower... I like labeling a lot. I mean, it's all about power, right? If you can label something, if you can name a thing, then you have power over it. With a label, a thing becomes suddenly less intimidating and dominant, more easily controlled and manipulated. I hate that I like labels.
I especially hate that I so often feel the need to label myself. What that tells me is that I'm not comfortable just being. Being what? Exactly. I feel like I have to be something and then prove it. I have to be a _____ (fill in political, religious, social affiliation or whatever), then prove it, then prove why my label is better than yours. I can't just be; I have to be _____ (fill in the blank). Just being "Keith" is not enough. Hell, I don't even know what that means. When I reflect, I see my desire to label myself as evidence that I feel apart from something, something I should belong to. I have some need driving me to connect and belong and associate with something, someone other than myself. Just being? Not enough.
We are disconnected.
My little brother says I don't know how to keep a girl. He walked up to me, and I could tell he had something troubling him, that he had been thinking about something heavy for a while. He said, "Keith, I'm worried about you. You keep losing your girlfriends. College is the time when you're supposed to find a wife, and you only have two more semesters left. You need to take this more seriously, Keith, or you're going to end up unmarried and unhappy for life." He's 13, and he already knows more about life than I do. He says he's not going to start dating until college, because high school dating is immature and troublesome. He also says that when he starts dating a girl, he's going to pick her right and then keep that sucker for life. I've decided to start going to him when I need relationship advice.
On Monday, a kid I met on a F.O.C.U.S. trip a couple months ago called me wanting to talk about his girlfriend, who he thought was cheating on him. I realize I probably should have just handed the phone to my little brother. But anyways, he was really upset and didn't want to lose her, but it was pretty clear she didn't hold their relationship in a position of as much priority as he did. Also, over break, I fussed at another friend of mine for being so exclusive and intense in his relationship with his girlfriend. Yes, their love sickens me, so that's part of it. The other part I just couldn't grasp was how needy my friend seemed, how being connected to this other person was necessary for their happiness.
Last night, I had a dream where I started dating my seventh grade girlfriend again. It was a crazy dream full of drama and romance, an episode more than worthy of appearing on a Spanish Soap Opera. The night before, I dreamed about my future wife. We were sitting at the table and talking. That was the extent of my dream, and I never saw her face, so if dream-wife is the same as future real-life-wife, I have no clue what she looks like. The night before that, I had another dating/marriage dream. I know, I'm asking the same question you are: what's wrong with me? To that, I answer... Well, I have no clue. I guess all of this stems from the same thing for me. I don't want to be alone in life--none of us do--so I connect myself with lots of people, dating being one of the ways to do that. What my track record tells me is that for some reason I feel separated from something or someone, and I have this deep, driving need to be in relationship. I know I've been using girl-guy/dating examples, but I think you can take sexuality out of it and it still be the same issue. I'm inadequate and incomplete alone, and I'll do anything and assume any label to surround myself with others, even if I never build any solid, lasting relationships with anyone. I would say it all boils down to belonging to someone, whether that's a wife or a father or a child, just belonging.
We are disconnected.
I feel closest to God when I'm away. I hear God's voice and see reality clearer when I'm away, away from technology, and away from electricity, and away from buildings, and away from civilization. Into the wild: that's where I find God. Over Easter break, I woke up early one morning, threw on some sneakers (I love the word "sneakers." I realize no one says this anymore, but I love it), grabbed my iPod and my Bible, and started walking. For any of you Gardner-Webbers out there, I left my suite and started walking through my woods across from Broyhill. My woods. It's where I go when I want to get away. God gave them to me. About a mile into the woods, I realized how stupid I am: I'm trying to get away from civilization and technology, and the whole time, my earplugs are in and music is blasting, and I'm checking my phone for new text messages. So I put my iPod, cell phone, and even my Bible in my bag and left it beneath a tree, walking further into the woods without my ties to the human world. (sidenote: took me forever to find that blasted bag a couple hours later. Go figure.)
It's amazing what you hear when you take your iPod out of your ears, get away from cars and buzzing and ringing and the noises of civilization. Life. You hear life. Stuff that seems small--like wind rustling leaves above your head, sticks crunching beneath your feet, birds singing, bugs clicking, water trickling--suddenly seems so real, so alive. I know that probably sounds dumb, but it's true. When that hit me, I felt like I had received some private revelation from God. Being alone with just God and nature is how it's supposed to be. I just kept walking and listening to life. I crossed some woods, a field, some small streams. I saw deer tracks and what I think are raccoon tracks. I saw lots of birds and insects. When I was crossing the field, I saw four wild turkeys. Life everywhere, and beautiful. And then... (I hope you hear the subtle change to a more ominous tone)...I saw a person. A person! These are my woods! What are people doing out here! Contaminating and polluting the beautiful world God privileged only me with! And that's what I genuinely was thinking. I was thinking that there's no way this person appreciates nature like I do. I immediately turned around and started walking out of the woods. That person ruined it for me.
On my way out, I saw a pipe leaking thick, murky liquid into one of the streams. It smelled like garbage. I guess at first I was thinking about how this world was untouched by people, which was something I liked about it. Maybe I was just looking for signs now, but I began to see evidence of people everywhere. I saw old fire pits with aluminum foil left in the ashes; I saw coke bottles, and candy wrappers, and even a freaking condom. Really? A condom? My progression of thinking throughout all of this and all of the trash I saw in those woods--trash I did not even pick up--tells me a lot. It tells me that there's some sort of gap between nature and humanity. Somewhere along the line, we lost our vision to see the innate beauty and value in nature. Somewhere along the line, we lost our responsibility to nature.
We are disconnected.
Going off of the whole nature idea, sometimes I like to think of myself as living by the Tao of Emerson and Thoreau. However, I'm clearly not a transcendentalist or a Romantic--as much as I'd like to think I am--, and the second I realize I'm not that, I label myself with this. When this falls through, I label myself with another that. Christian. Universalist. Universalist-Christian. Republican. Socialist. Democrat. Feminist. Student. Teacher. Role model. Friend. Boyfriend. Leader. Follower... I like labeling a lot. I mean, it's all about power, right? If you can label something, if you can name a thing, then you have power over it. With a label, a thing becomes suddenly less intimidating and dominant, more easily controlled and manipulated. I hate that I like labels.
I especially hate that I so often feel the need to label myself. What that tells me is that I'm not comfortable just being. Being what? Exactly. I feel like I have to be something and then prove it. I have to be a _____ (fill in political, religious, social affiliation or whatever), then prove it, then prove why my label is better than yours. I can't just be; I have to be _____ (fill in the blank). Just being "Keith" is not enough. Hell, I don't even know what that means. When I reflect, I see my desire to label myself as evidence that I feel apart from something, something I should belong to. I have some need driving me to connect and belong and associate with something, someone other than myself. Just being? Not enough.
We are disconnected.
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