Yearly Archives: 2004

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Bible Study

Fog of the Soul

Today looks to be another bright day filled with sunshine, topping out at 85 degrees. But a dense fog lies over bridges and coastline this morning, muffling sound and motion so that even the mammoth Washington State Ferry creeps in to the dock “on little cat feet” (a nod to Carl Sandburg, who is not my favorite poet).

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In some ways this fog paints a picture of my heart these last few weeks. I have been carrying around with me a sense of bitterness and disappointment in the way that God is managing my life, and it cuts me off from a lot of the joy of living as one of His children, just as a thick fog prevents us from enjoying the beauty of the world around us. At the risk of over-extending a shaky metaphor, there may be a parallel between the limitations that fog can impose on speedy travel and the limitations that distrust in God may place on our rate of travel on our spiritual journey.

A large contributor of the shadow in my heart is lack of sleep. I am a night person, and waking up weekdays at 5:42 am is a significant hardship for me. Even after more than 100 days on this schedule, I cannot seem to get used to it. Everything seems gloomy to a person who is tired.

We were delayed in boarding the ferry this morning for several minutes after the west-bound passengers had disembarked. Finally a woman staggered up the ramp, slowly threading her way between the packed and indifferent Seattle-bound passengers. A moment before she passed me she lost her balance and staggered into a large man a few feet in front of me. I got a good look at her face as she passed me … her weary expression spoke of despair and hopelessness. Apparently she had fallen asleep on the ferry and was belatedly awakened and ejected by the crew, who are responsible to clear the ferry of passengers between voyages. Her clothes and figure suggested a woman in her late 20′s, but her face looked at least 20 years older.

I hope that my face doesn’t look quite that bad as I make my tedious commute. In the interests of upholding the standards of photographic art, I will not be posting a picture.

I am disappointed with the loss of my high-salaried work-from-home situation, and am not as grateful as I should be for my new job in Seattle, even after 17 months of semi-unemployment. I feel betrayed by the way that the conflict with our former church played out and by God’s apparent unwillingness to uphold His Word and discipline His Church. Imagine my surprise, then, as I read from I Peter and discovered that it is not all about me!

Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you. But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed. If you are insulted because of the name of Christ, you are blessed, for the Spirit of glory and of God rests on you. I Peter 4:12-14

I think that is exactly how I feel … I continue to be surprised that (for example) my firm stance on a literal interpretation of the Bible would result in shunning and insult from other believers. And yet these verses indicate (as do so many) that life, even ‘my’ life, is not about me, not about my rights or prerogatives or comfort. Instead, it is all about the soon-to-be-fully-revealed glory of God.

Peter goes on to talk about the difference between suffering for our own crimes and suffering for the name of Jesus … it makes me wonder how much of my loss in privilege and compensation was a result of my own lack of diligence, and how much of it is caused by factors outside my control? These are not comfortable thoughts … I would much rather think of myself as a victim than as the architect of my own misfortune.

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The last time I was this tired on a consistent basis was during Basic Training when I enlisted in the Army as a private (first class). As the summer of 1986 faded, I routinely faced days of grueling physical training on less than four hours of sleep. In that circumstance, I had deprived myself of considerable privilege and compensation (a four-year college scholarship through the Army ROTC program) through my own lack of diligence, yet I would very much have preferred to think of myself as a victim and spent many entertaining hours blaming the Army and my professors. Is my history repeating itself?

I suppose I could ask my former boss how it came about that I was selected to be laid off, among the other 20-25% of the people in my department. I had received a good performance review at the beginning of the year, but things can change quickly in a corporate environment. As I think of it, though, the point may be moot. It matters much less what my boss thought and it is all about what God thought. The summer before I was laid off, I took a lot of time off from work, some of it associated with the birth of Sarah, but much of it connected to the construction of my deck. I would not be surprised to discover that God was displeased by my lack of diligence in my work, even if my former boss was unaware of the extent my attention was focused elsewhere. There is no doubt in my mind that I could (and should) have worked harder, especially considering the salary I was earning and the privilege I enjoyed of working from home, four days a week.

The long and short of it is that I seem to have betrayed myself, at least in the matter of my work. If, because of my own untrustworthiness, I am now required to work on-site for less pay and with more tedium, I have no one to blame. Rather, I ought to be thankful for a second chance and an opportunity to redeem my career and relearn a proper work ethic. It is perhaps time for me to stop complaining about my job and its associated commute, a topic that has perhaps been over-featured in this blog.

As usual, it depends on how you look at the situation. From one perspective, I am being punished by God, from another, I am being given a chance (as in Basic Training) to learn (or re-learn) diligence in a job that is frequently tedious, not always fun, and that requires me to be away from my family for a large portion of the week. I guess the question is, do I want to be a well-trained servant, able and ready to work for the Master, or would I rather sit around & drink blends? (That was a rhetorical question, no answer is necessary or desired. And of course, there is no higher calling than making blends, if not drinking them.)

So, what about the trouble with my former church? Did God, in fact, let me down? The prophecy about Jesus in Isaiah 28:16 indicates that I am the one who let God down, by failing to trust in Him fully:

So this is what the Sovereign Lord says: “See, I lay a stone in Zion, a tested stone, a precious cornerstone for a sure foundation; the one who trusts will never be dismayed.”

Is it reasonable that I would be vindicated by God according to my timetable? Is it proper that He allow my opponents in this situation to apparently or at least temporarily go unpunished?

Again, it seems that it is not all about me. Much of my motivation in desiring justice in this matter is so that I may be vindicated … so that those who have insulted me would be humbled and forced to admit that I was right, for the greater glory of Tim. If God chooses to defer judgment in this matter or even to entirely forgive, isn’t that His prerogative, and doesn’t that mercy accrue to His glory? I find myself in the place of the wicked servant illustrated in Matthew 18:23-35, when I refuse to forgive my brother for a small debt, having been forgiven millions myself.

How do I go about forgiving those who have wronged God, and have wronged me in passing? I have tried repeatedly in my own strength and yet I continue to feel bitterness toward several in this category. The only answer I can think of is that I can pray … starting today I can pray and ask God each day to give me a spirit of forgiveness.

At some point I hope to remember that I am a servant of God, not the Master. It is appropriate for me to suffer, and that I should consider it joy to be allowed to suffer in the interests of His glory. Admittedly, it will take some effort to clear away this fog of self-pity and self-importance. I need to continue to study the scriptures that point to Christ, and get my mind off my own desires and comforts.

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Although the middle of the Puget Sound was heavily covered in thick fog, we eventually crept our way to the docks of Seattle, where the sun blazed through, slashing the dense mists into ribbons of insubstantial vapor. I think perhaps God is not intimidated by the fog over my soul, either; His truth can incinerate my clouded thinking in much the same way.

It looks to be another beautiful day, dominated by blues and greens and golden sunshine … how delightful to be able to look around and enjoy it!

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Parenting

Gravy

It was a bright and sunny day on Monday, already near 70 degrees by the time I boarded the ferry, with hazy blue skies and mountains on every horizon. The last time I checked the weather, they were saying this week would be partly cloudy and in the low-to-mid 70s; now they are predicting 90 degree temperatures.

Sunday was one of those picture postcard summer days, with sunshine pouring down like a golden waterfall. The kids spent almost the entire afternoon in the pool or playing with the sprinkler on the lawn. We bought a funny sprinkler that has twenty or thirty little nozzles on flexible tubes coming out from the main hose … when turned on, the nozzles flail about like a bunch of spitting snakes. Rachel appointed herself “Sprinkler Drill Sergeant” and amused herself (and the rest of us) by ordering the snakes about in an imperious voice. Leanne came over and they played outside for several hours.

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At one point (Kathy and I had retreated inside by this time) they came up with the bright idea of using a hose to create a mud hole. Then they began wallowing around in it like hogs … I wish I had taken a picture. By all reports, they covered themselves from head to toe in mud; I made them all wash up thoroughly in the little pool before coming inside. The pool (which we had just cleaned and refilled) was brown with their residue.

A week or so ago we invented a variant of Dodgeball that can be played on our deck … this weekend we played it for quite a while. The rules are simple and it is a game that can be played by everyone on various levels. Joshua makes it a matter of pride to avoid being ‘it’ for as long as possible, and never moves from the position he thinks is most defensible. Daniel delights in the brinkmanship of taunting whoever is ‘it’ and runs from safe zone to safe zone whenever the ball is dropped or not immediately returned. Rachel combines these two strategies, while David (as a pseudo-combatant) runs freely around and is only occasionally struck by the ball (usually by accident). Sarah provides cover for the others and makes a big production out of hiding behind the deck box for safety.

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This is a moment that may not last for very long, wherein the children are all of an age where they want to play with me. In just a few years, the older ones will have moved on to other interests, most likely. But for now, there is a window of opportunity in which we can all play together, and everything can become a game.

Somehow I got a hold of Joshua’s blow-dart gun, and a new game was born. Possession of the rubber-tipped blow-dart entitled the holder to the dart-gun itself, and the hunt would begin. The objective was to shoot an opponent with the dart without losing possession of the gun … all the kids joined in the mad scramble to retrieve the dart whenever it was fired, in hopes of becoming the new hunter. Sarah went around asking to be shot, and David shrieked with glee (and simulated fear) whenever anyone would brandish the blow-gun. It was a lot of fun, for some reason.

I guess I simply like being a Dad. I really enjoy being fun with these strange little people; it never stops to fill me with wonder that God has allowed Kathy and I to have a part in creating these precious lives. Sometimes I worry about my lack of ability in molding them into the kind of people that God wants them to be, but mostly I just revel in the fun of being a parent. I figure if I can teach them to love God, the rest is gravy.

We had scrambled eggs and toast and grapes and cantaloupe and root beer floats for dinner, watching one of the “Little House on the Prairie” episodes. After supper we wrestled for a while on the living room floor and then I sent them off to bed. I read them a chapter from the Bible (we’re back in Genesis again) and then a chapter of The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis. It was a very good day.

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Events

Day Camp Photographer

It has been two weeks since the end of Day Camp, and yet I have written nothing about it! How curious an omission, when you consider the importance I have placed (and continue to invest) on that momentous week. I guess I’ve been busy, which is no particular excuse.

One of the best things about living in the Duckabush is the neighboring Christian Camp, Wilderness Northwest. Directed by Jody Weed (ably assisted by his family), this camp offers summertime camping, year-round retreat programs, and a week-long Day Camp program for children ages 6-13. Last year I had the opportunity to serve as Camp Photographer, following the five groups of 12-15 children around as they engaged in various skills, crafts, and other activities.

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Me in my intrepid videographer pose.

After Day Camp 2003, I produced a commemorative CD set featuring scores of pictures and more than 45 minutes of edited video describing the program for the friends and families of the campers. It was such a positive experience that I determined to seize the opportunity again this year.

Fortuitously, the end of my 90-day contract with my employer fell on the first day of Camp. Although they determined to hire me on a full-time basis, I was able to negotiate a week’s leave before signing on as an employee (just another way that God works all things together for good, for those that love Him and are called according to His purpose). I purchased a new video camera to supplement Jody’s camera, and I pestered Ray Canterbury to release several Counselors In Training (CITs) as my assistants each day of the program.

Over the course of the year, the CITs meet on a monthly basis for discipleship training. It is always inspiring to see the love that these teenagers have for the Lord as they patiently work with the campers, setting an example of kindness and godliness. I am challenged by the effort and talent they invest into the daily skits, often improvised and always enjoyed by the children.

It was a glorious week. The weather was nearly perfect, and the campers were filled with enthusiasm. The week-long program that Jody devised was very well coordinated with the workbook pages and the curriculum used by the teachers. It really seemed to resonate with both the kids and the teachers.

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The kids always seem to enjoy parachute games, even on the ground.

On Monday, we studied Creation, with specific emphasis on the fact that all of Creation came about through the literal ‘Word’ of God. Tuesday focused on Corruption … the tragic Fall of man into sin its consequences. Wednesday came in with a Flood, as we examined the account of that worldwide Catastrophe and its impact on the people of Noah’s time. On Thursday we studied Confusion and the story of the Tower of Babel (many groups helpfully provided their own supplemental confusion as well). The week culminated in teaching about Christ and the Cross with an emphasis on the way that God’s plan, beginning with Creation, points to His Son and His redeeming work on the Cross.

Most days included a 45 minute session in each of these categories:

  • Craft Station
  • Outdoor Life
  • Science Lab
  • Recreation
  • Skills

And of course, each day began and ended with an assembly in the big green tent, with singing, skits, group cheers and Bible verse recitation. I thought that the singing communicated a real sense of being on fire for God. These campers were not ashamed of loving Jesus — some of us could really take a lesson from them.

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This old lady was very helpful in serving the campers from her jelly-bean jar.

The camp was staffed by roughly 30 adults and 15 CITs, in addition to the 65 campers and occasionally visiting parents; it was a bustling place throughout the week. Many of the adults and CITs used vacation or took unpaid leave to serve on staff at Wilderness Northwest, while others worked evenings to make the time for Day Camp.

I’ve begun editing the video footage, and am very excited about this year’s DVD project. Last year it took me more than 10 weeks to put it together … this year I hope to finish more quickly (while people still remember that they attended Wilderness Northwest in 2004). If you are an alumnus of Day Camp this year, look for your DVD in the mail not later than Easter.

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Parenting

Absentee Dad

Now that I have become a full-time employee, it becomes imperative that I find a solution to this ‘commuting conundrum’ which plagues me.

While few would criticize my decision to accept employment in Seattle after 17 months without full-time work, it seems unlikely that I will be winning the coveted “Father of the Year” award when I see my children only on weekends, due to a 3-hour commute each way. In my experience, whatever people may say about “quality time”, children require both quantity and quality time from a father.

Yesterday Kathy was laid up with her back injury, and I spent the day at home. At one point I played a game of dodge-ball on the deck with the kids … not more than 30 minutes in all, with the requisite number of injuries. That silly game is probably one of the things that they will remember, if only because I so rarely play with them outside.

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So I need a solution that will allow me to:

  1. support the financial needs of my family
  2. assist my wife in parenting the children
  3. build lasting love relationships with my kids
  4. grow the intimacy of my marriage
  5. provide an environment that is pleasing and conducive to my family’s growth

So far, my employer is willing for me to work from home, one day each week. I haven’t yet managed to test that out … I’m still working through some technical issues with my laptop and remote access. I expect that being home one workday each week may help to take the sting out of my long absences on the other days. Nevertheless, I am not satisfied with this arrangement … last week I didn’t see Sarah between Tuesday and Friday nights, leaving before she is awake and coming home late each night.

I don’t want to move hastily, ahead of God. If He sees fit to provide me with another work-from-home opportunity (like my former job, in which I traveled to the city only once a week), it would be a shame to miss that chance. At the same time, I don’t want to fall into the trap of persisting in behavior that is destructive to my family out of timidity or indecision.

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I suspect that a lot of men have sacrificed their families to their jobs on a “temporary” basis only to discover that, after 15 or 20 years, their window of opportunity to impact the family has slowly closed. I suspect that no one laments on their deathbed, “If only I had spent more time at work!”

My children (and Kathy, for that matter) are reluctant to move to Seattle. And of course, there is the question about what to do with our house … the proximity to the Retreat Center property restricts our ability to sell the home in good conscience. I recently hit on a possible compromise: we could rent a small house in Seattle or Tacoma and live there half the week. We might occupy such a potential house from Sunday night to Wednesday night, and spend Thursday through Sunday in the Duckabush. This would likely cut my commute down to a manageable 1 hour each way on Monday through Wednesday, freeing up 4 hours each day to spend with my family. On Thursdays I could work from our home in the Duckabush, and on Fridays make the long commute in to Seattle.

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While the cost of maintaining two households would be non-trivial, it is already costing me more than $400/month to commute to work, not considering the lost time in the car and on the bus. (Ferry time, of course, is redeemed by the quality of these fine blog entries.) If we found a house that was sufficiently inexpensive, we might substantially improve our quality of life by such an arrangement. It occurs to me that the opportunity to visit zoos and museums and parks, as well as the chance to make some new friends, could outweigh the inconvenience of living between two houses for Kathy and the children. I have hopes that Kathy might attend BSF this year with the youngest two children if I can be home consistently on Thursdays.

If you read this blog entry, and have a reaction, please leave a comment expressing your viewpoint. I would value any suggestions that you may make, especially since this idea is still in an embryonic state.

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Events

Charlie Brown

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For some strange reason, I am cheerful this morning. This is a bit strange, since I am rarely cheerful before ten in the morning, and I received less than 5 hours of sleep last night. Ordinarily, writing under such conditions, I produce some dark, brooding essay, inveighing against some injustice or the perpetual curse of human sin. In her subsequent review, Kathy would either veto the entire article or ask me to add a bunch of cheerful pictures for my not-so-adoring public to look at while skipping over my gloomy blatherings.

Actually, Kathy reminded me that she had prayed for me, that God would redeem the sleeping time I lost, especially since I had been so kind to take our family & friends out for an evening on the town. Praise God for His kindness to me!

Truth be told, I could probably drum up the proper melancholy spirit if it was necessary. But I’ve already started my second Diet Coke, and I just can’t stop humming the tunes from a musical I attended last night. It is Friday, after all … I guess a little cheerfulness on the ferry can be overlooked, even in the morning.

While I’m on the subject, I’ll offer a few life-saving tips to those morning people out there. Here is a short list of the things you should never say to a night-person before noon, unless you seek bodily harm:

  • “Rise and shine!”
  • “Greet the day!”
  • “Up and at ‘em, sleepyhead!”
  • “The early bird gets the worm!”
  • “Carpe diem!”

Nearly any bright and cheerful trill that requires an exclamation point is right out. Avoid any sentence with a verb more active than those routine for sloths or glaciers … otherwise you invite muttered threats, rejoinders and vulgar gestures, e.g., “I’ll greet your day, buddy.”

I guess that is enough do-gooding for today … consider that a public service announcement intended to preserve the lives of unwitting morning people. … And now, back to our regularly-scheduled programming.

As a birthday present to Kathy (her birthday rages on, unfazed by the number of intervening days since the 16th of July) I purchased tickets to attend the Taproot Theatre’s production of You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown for Kathy, myself, and our oldest three children (Weasel, Nettle and Slug). As an extra treat, I arranged for some dear friends to attend the same performance, unbeknownst to my beloved Kathy and the children. Our faithful neighbor, Annjanette, held the fort and babysat our two youngest children, Thunder & Lightning.

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I first saw this musical on stage here in Washington in 1972 (give or take a couple of years). I think it was performed by a local amateur group at Fort Lewis, and I don’t remember much about it. My Dad somehow acquired a reel-to-reel tape of the musical (8-tracks were too modern and trendy for him), and played it on request for me throughout the four years we lived in Germany. It occupies an important place among my childhood memories, particularly the “Book Report” song. (More perhaps on that later.)

My children are all Peanuts fans, particularly Weasel, who owns many, if not most, of the collections of that long-running comic strip. And of course we own several Peanuts videos, including the animated version of “You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown”, which I heartily recommend.

Arriving in North Seattle, we ate a hurried dinner at a nearby pizza place, and located our seats by the clever expedient of finding our friends who were there before us. I was particularly smug to see how surprised Kathy and the children were to see their good friends ‘coincidentally’ attending the show with us. Kathy sat right next to Tina and Nettle and Slug greeted their friends enthusiastically. (We are none of us looking forward to the Burt’s departure for Missouri next week — even three days of separation seemed excessive.) The production lasted almost exactly two hours, including a few additional songs along with the parts of the musical we knew so well.

The show was excellent, playing to a packed house. We had great seats in the first and second rows along the side of the long protruding stage, sitting with our missionary-in-training friends and their three children. Kathy had to remind Slug not to put his feet on the stage, for fear that he would trip one of the actors. (For some reason, I always seem to get good seats at performances … I’m not sure why. I always try to be kind and gentle-spoken to the box-office workers and frequently enlist their aid in choosing seats … maybe that is my secret? Or perhaps it is a gift from God, and no credit to me at all. Hmmph.)

I particularly enjoyed the facial expressions as the familiar play unfolded … the actress playing Lucy nearly stole the show away from the Charlie Brown character, in my opinion. The actor playing Schroeder (a worship leader at a nearby Bible church) gave a tremendous boost to his role in the “Book Report on Peter Rabbit” song, dramatizing the fight between Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham with his oversized pencil. (Many ill-informed readers are not familiar with the critical role that these two medieval characters play in the well-known bedtime story, Peter Rabbit.)

Charlie Brown, Lucy, Linus and Schroeder were assigned a book report on the children’s classic, Peter Rabbit. The approaches taken by each of the characters are worth noting for the simple reason that they outline four of the primary possible reactions to any academic assignment. Indeed, this part of the musical made a lasting impression on me and provided the foundation of much of my later academic, er, success.

The song is begun by Lucy, who takes a minimalist line of attack. She quickly establishes the parameters of the assignment (100 words) and eventually reaches that goal through the clever expedient of listing all the vegetables in the garden and liberally using the adjective “very”, as in, “the very very very end.” She completes the assignment having gone through the motions and writing exactly 100 words, most of them devoid of any original thought.

Some assignments and life situations seem to require exactly that approach.

Schroeder begins his report with good will but finds the subject insufficiently interesting to hold his attention. He quickly segues into a plot summary of Robin Hood and ties it back together like this:

“… away they ran. Just like rabbits. Who run a lot.
As you can tell from the story of Peter Rabbit
which this report … is about.”

I have used this method frequently. When an assignment or situation lacks scope or interest, it can frequently be hijacked into a different, more interesting project, without adverse consequences. Frequently your audience is sufficiently pleased with your passion in the new topic, that they are willing to overlook your failure to address the original issue.

Linus takes an approach which I have labeled “over the top.” Similar to Schroeder, he is unwilling to settle for a simple 100-word report on Peter Rabbit but rather dives deep into the subject matter, examining the sociological pressures under which Peter labored and his deeply-rooted rivalries with Flopsy, Mopsy and Cottontail. At the very least, deep-sounding philosophy can often cloak empty-headed babble, as is regularly evidenced in this blog.

As a sort of a counterpoint to each of these themes, Charlie Brown agonizes over the advisability of procrastination:

“If I start writing now,
when I’m not really rested,
it could upset my thinking,
which is not good at all.
If I wait ’til tomorrow,
there’ll be lots of pressure,
I work best under pressure …
I should start writing now.”

Ultimately the other three reach a crescendo and complete the assignment, which time Charlie Brown has wasted in his dithering. He now begins after all the others have finished.

Sadly, this is perhaps the approach I have most relied upon, with predictable consequences. Nevertheless, I really like the “Book Report” song.

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Leaving the theater, as we straggled our way to our respective cars, we were treated to an additional bonus. The cast members, heading for their own vehicles, joined us as they exited from backstage. They spoke kindly to each of the children, and shook hands with each of us. Snoopy took time to instruct Slug in the finer points of barking, and I had a chance to congratulate Schroeder on his excellent performance.

We ate our leftover pizza on the way home, stopping for milkshakes after an appropriate interval. I was dead-tired but happy when we arrived at home around 12:30 am. Kathy’s marathon birthday continues, unchecked.

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