Author Archives: scoeyd

Monday musings on March Madness & other stuff…

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I think I watched one complete college basketball game this regular season. Yet I still found myself glued to “Selection Sunday” – the several hour long ‘epic’ discussion of which teams would actually be selected by the Committee, thereby gaining entrance into March Madness

And I’m going to fill out a bracket. One.

And as Selection Sunday came to an end, the whining began in earnest. From where, you ask? From the supporters, advocates, & coaches of teams that didn’t make it into the Dance, that’s who. Somehow, someway the Colorados, Virginia Techs, & St. Marys of the world fill the air with tales of woe, mistreatment, aiming blame at a long list of people…

Ultimately, they didn’t get in because they didn’t win their conference tournament. They didn’t win quality road games. They didn’t win. Enough.

The airwaves (radio & TV) will resound with the “woulda, shoulda, couldas” all week… or at least until Thursday when the ‘real” games begin in earnest.

All the whining & blame shifting reminds me of how common it is to point the finger for the wrongs, injustices, relational faux pas, & unmet expectations at others, instead of looking in the mirror & considering what role I have had in sowing & reaping the consequences I’m experiencing. Cause really, my choices to act/not act, invest in/ignore, feed/starve habits can & do affect me far more than the vast majority of choices others make. And if/when people don’t meet my expectations & gasp! let me down, throwing a tantrum, taking my proverbial ball & going home, whining & crying to all that will listen is a pretty tired, ineffectual way to live.

My brain feels silly this morning… the trip to LA last week (Monday-Wednesday) left me scrambling to stay afloat with school/work/family, so by the time I stopped to catch my breath, I realized that my brain was not in its usual place, & was demanding a respite from GOing.

Sigh.

Got reminded yesterday that its my responsibility to keep hope alive in my heart, even if its just tending the glowing embers & making sure that there is enough space for the hope-fire to burn. And a hope that is firmly rooted in my Living Hope, & my Hope that doesn’t disappoint, is a hope worth contending for.

Simple things can make all the difference. Like fitting into a pair of pants that one hasn’t been able to wear for 6 months. And having room to spare. THAT is a good thing.

I’m not on a diet. Just avoiding the refined sugars & refined flours again. And 3 weeks in, it’s working.

Spring Training is here! Or Opening Day is just around the corner…

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I love baseball. It’s a metaphor for life. Here’s a few reasons I think so…

    -There’s no real ‘clock’ governing the time that each game will take. It’s over when it’s over. And not one minute earlier.

    -Everything and every player in a game matters; there are no insignificant roles, and no inconsequential people.

    -The very best hitters still fail 70% of the time, even when they’ve given everything they know how to give.

    -Self-sacrifice (the sacrifice bunt, sacrifice fly, and moving the runner over by grounding behind him) is greatly appreciated and vastly undervalued.

    -When times are hard with your team, its imperative that a fan looks for bright spots, the silver lining of the clouds if you will, rather than focus on the negative. Because what you look for, you’ll find.

    -Enjoying an ice-cold beer and ballpark dog at the park with your girl is one of this life’s truest enjoyments.

Part of my baseball on the brain comes with the advent of Spring training & the exhibition games have begun in earnest. The season is just around the corner.

The start of the season makes me feel both nostalgia and hope – from all the years of Spring training that I’ve experienced, the memories of listening to games on my little transistor radio, the baseball biographies (& fiction) that I incessantly devoured, (the Jackie Robinson story is still a favorite), and the series of old movies that I inevitably found a way to watch at this time of year, like “It Happens Every Spring”, and “Angels in the Outfield” – the original, though my kids loved the Disney adaptation.

My team, the World Champion San Francisco Giants, (that never gets old) won the 2010 World Series – something that had never happened in my life time. SF won series – hope deferred; hoping beyond hope that this would be the year. 2010 it was. Makes this year’s spring training more fun.

Spring training brings hope; to me it’s new life and new opportunities – a veritable clean slate. I ponder what I want to be true of me… less insistence on needing to be heard, to be right. To want to listen better, to understand. To speak my mind, in truth and love… to function at a ground-level in relationships rather than leaving them layered in unexpressed deep thoughts & feelings. To value what is truly important. To love well. Full of grace. Quick to forgive. Hoping the best. Celebrating life & relationship.

On that note, me & theBean aim to be at more Aces games – a lot more. We’re partnering with friends on some season tickets… should be finding out in the next little while when the joy starts.

30 more days til Opening Day.

I say, you hear…

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Currently, my school studies center on communication within organizations. This is especially intriguing to me in the context of large/small scale communication within the church (anything from to one-on-one conversations, to addressing large groups.)

One of the most common means of communication within the church is the speech/teaching. It consists largely of “Information Transfer:” I talk (download), you listen, (upload). Information transferred & accurately communicated. Done.

Except not.

Stuff gets in the way, that keeps us from ‘getting’ it.

Stuff like INFORMATION OVERLOAD – at some point, there’s just too much information & the brain says “No más.” Which is unfortunate, especially if the speech goes on for another 15 minutes.

Stuff like NOISE – maybe its actual physical noise that distorts & distracts, like a baby crying or people talking; it might be internal noise caused by stopping “full listening” in order to think on something that was said; or it could be external noise that comes from the surrounding environment. Regardless, the end result is the person/individual stops processing.

Stuff like AMBIGUITY – words mean things, & often, the same word can have vastly different meanings depending on the person hearing it. For example, I could say, “We are wanting to bring more structure to our church.” You might hear, “Structure? You mean everyone gets put into a cookie cutter? No thanks.” What was intended by the word “structure” was a trying to create a more effective & efficient way to help connect people to/within the church body, to coordinate our efforts in mission & purpose, & to accurately & quickly get vital information to those that need to hear it.

Big difference.

I know what I’m saying, but I don’t know what you’re hearing. Anything that you hear that remotely resembles what I said, is a miracle – Jerry Cook

40. Again.

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No, I’m not reminiscing about birthdays. I’m singing.

This morning, I was reading my “Psalms by the 30’s” (starting with today’s date, the 10th, I read the 10th, 40th, 70th, 100th & 130th Psalms – a little plan so that I can read through all 150 in the month.) When I got to the opening lines of Psalm 40, my mind took off, & I burst into U2’s “40”, their version of Psalm 40; it’s one of my favorite songs (NOTE: I only did this in my head. I couldn’t really be LOUD at 6:15. It is oh-so-wrong to be loud in the morning. For so many reasons. But I digress.)

I ponder the psalmist’s patience while he’s IN the miry clay. David knows that he has a Rescuer who will hear his cry for help. A Deliverer that will pull him from mire & set his feet upon the solid rock. And while he’s in it, rather than panic (which only sinks one deeper in the muck,) he waits. Patiently. On the Sure Thing, the One who will lift him.

I’m stuck there. Thinking on the discipline of practicing patience; patiently waiting while in the middle of the stuff.

Not so good at patience all the time am I. Complaining, (even if its just in my head, to the LORD,) comes easier. Panic wants to rise up in response to the initial fear of realization of my predicament. Like David, I want to reflect the calm assurance that my Rescuer, my Deliverer will come for me. That He’s with me. Active faith, exercised in the mud. Waiting. I want to get it. I’m on my way.

Not fully there.

But in process.

How long/how long/how long/how long/to sing this song?

leftover thoughts from Dallas Willard, & other musings on a monday…

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I spent some time in Los Angeles about 3 weeks ago for the on-site/beginning of my Masters program. One of the speakers was Dallas Willard… He brought up a series of questions that have stayed at the forefront of my thought processes for the last weeks… Specifically, the questions address what it means and looks like, lived out, to BE a Christ-follower, practicing the disciplines. He asked:

“Why do you fast? Why do you practice solitude? The other disciplines?” Simply, it’s NOT doing what you want, and it IS doing what you don’t. It’s a declaration of FROM WHERE and from WHO do I draw my strength.”

I’d read something similar in the reading for the class, but hearing him say it brought ‘depth’ to it. I’m confronted with the reality that the practice of fasting in my own life had often been done as an exercise of (supposed?) obedience, but NOT as a way to rely on Christ as my source of sustenance. Willard’s words brought to life the scripture, “Man does not live on bread alone, but by every Word that comes from the mouth of God.”

Looking to Christ instead of food, or to Christ in place of human companionship all of a sudden came into clearer focus. These disciplines are for leaning fully into the LORD, and reminding my flesh where my help comes from.

Loved the Super Bowl. Though neither the Packers or Steelers are my team, I was pulling for the Packers… A good game, mixed in with theBean’s wings & other yums, an adequate amount of shouting at the television (gratifying to know that I’m not the only one that does this,) made for lots of fun. TheBean watches the game for one reason: the commercials. I thought they were mostly weak, though I enjoyed the VW/Darth Vader “Use the Force” spot.

Down to my last week of my 1st masters class – everything is done & turned in except a 12 page paper outlining my ‘personal leadership development plan.’ Here I go. Booyah.

monday-end-of-january musings…

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Um. I missed January. I didn’t miss it-miss it, it just went by faster than I am accustomed to experiencing a month of 31 days. I think it was the week in L.A. for my Masters project. Or the massive amounts of reading & writing I’ve been doing. TheBean’s new work schedule at the Starbucks Corp. Or something.

TheBean got a haircut recently from Ree the Artiste. She went from long-ish (shoulders) to shorter. I don’t know what it is officially called, other than cute. I just like it when I can see her perfect ears. It really is a cute cut. Without fail, people will comment on how they like her new ‘do, & include, “& the new color is amazing!” That is usually followed by theBean trying to explain that its not a new color, its just her hair. Really. And more often than not, they don’t believe her. Seriously, I’ve heard people say, grumpily even, “Well if you don’t want to share what color they used, that’s up to you…”

Last week, I was talking to a friend who relayed that they’d received a mean note in the mail from another friend(?) who wanted to share their displeasure, frustration, & disapproval with the friend. There was no in-person conversation about it before or after, just a mailed letter out of the blue.

When I heard it, I thought to myself, “For reals?” And then I heard of 2 other similar situations (different people) where mail/email had been used to Declare Disapproval, & to Initiate the Shun-nage.

And I thought, there has got to be a better way for friends to communicate. And if these were my friends, I think I would wonder if I had friends.

Reading a new Dallas Willard book – the day he came & spoke to our Masters Cohort is a day that will live in infamy for scoeyd… I love that guy – it’s called, Knowing Christ Today: Why We Can Trust Spiritual Knowledge.” In a nutshell, Willard addresses the fallacy that Christian belief & thought is merely the product of personal preferences &/or emotional responses – & declares that there is such a thing as true knowledge. A quote:

It is one of the curiosities of Western intellectual history that, during the last century or so, those with no serious involvement with practical Christianity – maybe totally ignorant of it or even hostile to it – have been allowed, under the guise of “scholarship” or innovative thought, to define what religion is & to reinterpret Christian teachings in the light of their own biased definitions & purposes… thus they present religion as an irrational projection or development of some sort – contrary to the inner nature of the religious consciousness itself.

Get it. You won’t regret it.

The Super Bowl is coming. It is not just another game. It is not the Big Game. It is not the Final Game. The Championship Game. Yet, due to the ludicrous & overzealous militant “property rights” wing of the NFL, you can’t call it the Super Bowl. Or other things. Here’s why. And of course now that I’ve called it the Super Bowl, I will probably be getting contacted by someone urging me, legally, to remove such references.

Silly, silly, silly.

I saw a line today…

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The line stretched out into the street, so far from its origin I couldn’t tell where it began. It was growing steadily; I stopped counting at 75 people. Those in the line were all shapes, sizes, colors, and ages. They weren’t talking to each other, but had the resigned look of people on an elevator (you know the look. I’m pretending I’m not here. But I have to be. If I look up, vacantly, I don’t have to interact.) The only exceptions to the ‘no talking’ were those that had been engaged by what appeared to me to be reporters. There were 3 or 4 significantly better dressed & made up questioners with clipboards & notepads, hastily recording the results of their short interactions, then picking out another person in the line to talk to.

I was intrigued; why are all these people standing in line in the middle of the day? Rather than go up to someone in the line, or ask a passerby, (which would require actually talking to & interacting with someone I don’t know, a stranger, a behavior I am not oft known to engage in,) I decided to do a little investigation to see if I could figure it out myself. Got out of the car & wandered in the direction of the headwaters of the mass of humanity queued around the block.

I had taken 3 steps when it hit me.

I know that building.

St. Vincents.

Middle of the day.

Lunch.

Everyone was standing in line so they could get something to eat.

My eyes scanned the people in line again, this time looking at faces, individuals, people. They look like my neighbors. Like the people I run into all over this big/little city. Definitely not matching up with the tired stereotype of the grubby-toothless-homeless dude.

Men. Women. Children. Grandparents. Wanna-be gangstas.

Waiting for lunch.

I prayed that St. Vincent’s wouldn’t run out of food today.

Climbed back in my car, realizing that something had happened to me in that brief moment. Still not sure what it was. Feels significant, but I’m too close to the trees to see the forest.

Decided just to head back to the office & not get lunch; to skip it today.
I have a choice to do that, whether or not I eat at midday.

Others don’t.

on the road again & other musings from an early Monday…

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No, I’m not traveling; just reading.

TheBean’s schedule for theBucks means that several days a week, she’s up & at’em in the wee hours of the morning, often by 4. Perhaps there’s not a whole lot of ‘quality time’ one can spend with their spouse while they’re getting ready, applying makeup, doing hair, etc… but I can make sure that the coffee is hot. And ready. And delivered to her in person with a smile (or at least the best version I can summon at such a time.)

I need to be up – I purpose to be up – but my body disagrees, protests, & lodges a complaint against the management… which is why I made the decision to GET up last night, before I was in the spot to have to deal with my recalcitrant self. The early morning is for coffee, yes, but its also reading time. Stolen moments for pondering in the Scriptures.

Today it was Luke 24; what jumped out at me was the walk the 2 guys had with the (unrecognized,) Risen Christ on the road to Emmaus. The time of discussion, supposing, wondering. Confusion, frustration, crushing grief. Having seen Christ’s crucifixion, they’re now trying to wrestle through the reports of “Christ sightings” by Mary & the ladies. Hoping beyond hope that it could be true. Fearing that its not.

And Jesus meets them. He hears their conversation & joins in. Challenges them for their slowness to ‘get it.’

And He said to them, “O foolish ones, & slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things & enter into His glory?” And beginning with Moses & all the Prophets, He interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself.

When I see the word “fool” in the Bible, I can’t help but think of Mr. T. And then I remind myself that Jesus isn’t ‘pitying the fool’ the way Mr. T would. It helps.:)

The two men don’t recognize Jesus until the point where He’s breaking & blessing the bread – there’s an “A-HA!” moment, & He’s gone.

This morning I resonate with these two guys – so focused on the difficulties, troubles, & disappointments in my up-close-&-personal world, that I miss the living, risen Christ right under my nose. I think that’s what happens when one walks with one’s head down, eyes on the ground. The obstacles & worries on the road become the focus, & its easy to get stuck in the potholes.

A song comes to mind, a reminder to lift my eyes up – its from one of the Songs of Ascent – something that the Jewish pilgrims returning to Jerusalem for feast & festivals would sing on the journey up the hills into the City of David.

I lift my eyes up/to the mountains/where does my help come from?
My help comes from You/maker of Heaven/creator of the Earth
Oh how I need You, LORD/You are my only hope/You are my only prayer
So I will wait for You/to come & rescue me/to come & give me life –
Psalm 121 – I Lift My Eyes Up – Brian Doerksen

Resolute…

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res·o·lute
/ˈrɛzəˌlut/ Spelled[rez-uh-loot]
–adjective

  1. firmly resolved or determined; set in purpose or opinion.
  2. characterized by firmness and determination, as the temper, spirit, actions, etc.

The New Year is knocking on my cold, cold (have I mentioned it is absolutely frigid?,) front door. Which leaves me taking stock of me & mine, & of life… pondering, musing, thinking & re-thinking through, almost ad nauseum, as I am oft want to do.

New things are here. Sigh.

I start a Masters program through Life Pacific College with a week-long intensive starting 1/10. For the last month, I’ve been trying to read through the ‘pre-intensive pre-requisite’ books. I’ve found 4 of the 5 to be great, more than I could have hoped for.

Thought provoking. Challenging my status quo. Antagonizing, even, in the best sense of the word.

I’ve got pages & pages notes that I’m transcribing from scoey-scratch & notepads to the Mac so I can easily search & access them when it comes time for The Writing.

And then there’s the One book. The 5th of the 5. I got 1 chapter in & laid aside my notepad. Put down my pen. Muttered a ‘you have GOT to be kidding me,’ or 3. Put it away to save for a time when I need: a) a cure for insomnia, or b) something to tick me off so I can get through a 90 minute kettlebell marathon workout.

For reals.

Thinking through the next weeks where my crafted routine will undergo massive change. Part of it is flexing time so that I can take care of the school requirements (reading & writing, no rithmatick :) , but a bigger part of it is wanting to grow, develop, learn, & be becoming as a husband, father, & pastor – which means heading into new areas with new things to do.

I want to be ‘resolute’ – set on becoming the man God made me to be, knowing that I can’t plan for every eventuality, but I can prepare to take whatever waves come my way… & to do all that I can to “be ready in-season & out of season. “ To set my will upon God’s purposes, with a face like flint, not easily discouraged, cowed, or frustrated.

To not be a complainer. Or whiner. Which makes me wonder, “Was I whining about Book 5? Or was it just commentary?” Hmm.

My brain whirs. Music helps.

Rich Mullins. A little Tears For Fears. David Crowder. Akiko Suwanai’s interpretation of some great Bach.

Suddenly, I realize It’s there.

You are a failure.

Where did that thought come from? From some dark recess, some pit of despair & fear, the place where the accusations & lies come from, recounting past & present stumblings, mocking me with memories of my shame, my lowest points. Words biting, some spoken in ignorance, others in spite, by people who have passed through my life’s 41 years.

Taunting.

Failure? No.

It’s taken practice, learning to take thoughts captive. At times, (like today,) its an all-out battle. But who & what I am, the purpose I live, cannot, WILL not be valuated by a liar, no matter how many old stories & current challenges are dredged up.

Cause I’ve been made to be someone who stands. And to remain standing. To look for opportunities to put into practice God’s commands. To hold tight to His Word, hiding it deep & secure in heart & mind. To intentionally & strategically look to encourage & pass on what I’ve learned to others. To never give up, never turn aside, never quit.

Failure? No. Cause I belong to Christ. Forgiven. Changing. Transforming. Growing. Loving. Encouraging. And I’m not gonna stop… I’m

res·o·lute
/ˈrɛzəˌlut/ Spelled[rez-uh-loot]
–adjective

  1. firmly resolved or determined; set in purpose or opinion.
  2. characterized by firmness and determination, as the temper, spirit, actions, etc.

Nobody owes me anything…

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January 2006, I was in Los Angeles with theMoses & brother for a the National Foursquare Youth Leadership conference. One of the plenary speakers is my now District Supervisor, Ron Pinkston. Something he said that morning has stuck with me to this day, & I repeat it to myself daily.

Nobody owes me anything.

When he first said it, I smirked, & my internal response was, “That sounds good… &, even better, I don’t owe anybody anything…”

That thought was still on the tip of my brain (you know what I mean; it was still bouncing around, being pondered & whatnot,) when he said, “And don’t go thinking that you ‘I don’t owe anybody anything’ is the same thing as ‘Nobody owes me anything.’ Cause its not. I don’t owe anybody anything is selfish. It’s petty. It numbs us to our personal responsibility to love one another, actively. To do to others as you would have them do to you…”

I was floored.

You know the times when someone is talking & it seems like they are talking just to you? That the subject matter & the things that they’re saying specifically address you, where you’re living, right on the dot? This was like that. Except stronger.

My heart was in my throat & it raced 100 miles an hour.

I. Was. Convicted.

The rest of the speech is like a dream in my memory; I remember bits & pieces vividly, other details not so much. What I do know is that the whole time Ron talked, I was consumed in an inner-dialogue with the Holy Spirit.

It felt a lot like Dickens “A Christmas Carol,” (the George C. Scott version of course,) where the ghost of Christmas Past, Present, & Future view scenes from Ebenezer Scrooge’s life, & let him be an observer to himself & to the people in his life.

Unbeknownst to me (or at least successfully ignored by me for a time,) a virtual bastion of thoughts, strong beliefs, & feelings that I was OWED something by others had born ‘fruit’ in & through my life.

Anger. Resentment. Entitlement. Bitterness. Offense. Pessimism. Negativity. Biting sarcasm. An inability to enjoy people, relationships, & situations that SHOULD’ve been enjoyed.

Some fruit.

I saw:

  • A wife & family that OBVIOUSLY didn’t appreciate all that I did – from working hard to provide for them, working around the house, personally going without so that they could play a sport or purchase a ‘want.’ I was OWED at least a regular diet of “Thank you’s.”
  • Countless times where others, especially those closest to me, should have known what I was thinking, feeling, hoping for, only to let me down. I was OWED more consideration.
  • ‘Friends’ who hadn’t reached out, hadn’t called, hadn’t sought me out, hadn’t done ANYTHING, when it was OBVIOUS that I was hurting – I was OWED more attention from them.
  • Times where I found out that my friends had gotten together to do something fun, & that I wasn’t invited – I was OWED an invitation.
  • People that had left the church without a word, a note, or an email – people I had loved, cared for, wept with, & invested in – I was OWED more than silence.
  • Being overlooked for a series of special assignments within our church family – that I was BEST qualified for, & didn’t even get ASKED about. I was OWED more.
  • Disappointment at unmet hopes, dreams, & expectations, even feeling let down by some as though they should have been a part of making MY hopes, dreams, & expectations a reality. I was OWED that.

You get the picture.

A really bad part  of the ‘fruit’ of my entitlement was the collateral damage  it had caused to other people through my example, my frequent ‘sharing’ of my feelings (complaining? gossiping?,) thereby influencing them towards the ‘dark side’ of cynicism, negativity, & self-focusedness.

I saw that I’d given away, neglected really, the responsibility for myself. My feelings of peace, happiness, &  joy. My contentment.

People had to walk on eggshells around me, not knowing what to expect… Because the very worst part of feeling like I was OWED, was that I didn’t express my feelings or thoughts to the people I was feeling OWED BY.  In retrospect, it feels silly to me to look back; embarrassing even.

This last week I ‘tweeted’ that I’d be writing a blog on this topic – my friend Tim wrote me giving his take on it & I want to share it with you…

I just saw your twitter post. Wanted to chime in.

Nobody owes me anything. I started to try to intentionally live this way a few years back. There are many great results, but one of the most unexpected ones was this: I am more confident in my communication of who I am and more bold about what I would like.

It’s like this: As long as I felt like people did owe me stuff, I’d either:

1. Sit around and expect that they would know what they owed me and wait for it to come, or
2. Speak out the things I felt I was owed and have emotional turmoil about the potential response.

Now, I can freely talk about who I am and even the things I’d like to see without putting a visible or invisible expectation on anyone else to actually give it to me…

Nobody owes me anything” allows for a kind of detachment that allows me to fully express my heart, because I don’t believe my heart must be confirmed by anyone else. If it is, great. If it isn’t, it does not diminish who I am or the dreams I have.

Nicely put.

Bottom line, I know that what I have learned & am learning can be redeemed, & maybe someone, somewhere can learn from me & what I’ve gone through, instead of having to choose the ‘way of pain.’ That’s my hope.

Nobody. Owes. Me. Anything.