I was asked an interesting question today. Actually, it wasn't really a question, it was a comment. More of an aside, really.
A friend and I were talking over lunch and somehow we got to the topic of that bit in the Gospels where Jesus was tempted by the devil (mentioned in Matthew and Luke). My friend said that there's no way he could have withstood those temptations, particularly the one where the Devil offers up the world to Jesus. He jokingly offered up a few things that the devil might have used on him - things he longs for but might never have - and said that if he were offered those things, he'd give in.
It was a funny moment at lunch but for me, there was a disturbing undercurrent to the conversation. Because as a way to continue the levity of the topic, I thought about offering up some things the devil might use on me that might get me to sell my own soul.
But I couldn't think of anything.
Not one thing.
And so I changed the subject.
Now before you think I'm trying to be all holy and cool by suggesting that I'm beyond temptation, that's not what I'm getting at at all. What I'm trying to say is that I couldn't think of anything that I wanted out of life - anything that I really desired, anything that the devil could dangle in front of me to entice me. And that worries me.
Sex? Nah, that comes with consequences and tons of emotional baggage.
Power? No way. With power comes responsibility and who wants that?
Money? Eh, that'd be nice but I'm a person of modest means. I don't like bling, I don't want to drive a fancy car, I don't want to wear fancy clothes (mostly because I have little fashion sense), I'm not even a huge fan of traveling and seeing the world (although I'd like to someday). I mean I am looking for a job so I can pay my bills and the rent but that would more or less be enough for me. If I could do that at a job that I didn't absolutely hate, I think there's not a whole lot more I'd want.
Money, sex, power - aren't those the things that entice most people? But, I don't know, I don't really want any of those things.
And I think that's a bit fucked up.
Because if I don't want anything then what am I doing here?
I suppose if pressed, I'd say that if I could be granted any personal wish in the world, I'd wish to write a book like Donald Miller's Blue Like Jazz or Anne Lamott's Traveling Mercies. That is to say, I'd like to write a book that brings Christianity back for people, making it real and vital and relevant once again. Because that's what those books did for me and that's something I'm truly grateful for.
And that makes me wonder as well.
What does it mean that some of the most important things in my life are books - those books in particular? Why isn't it the case that my friends or my family are most important to me? I mean, is it screwed up that a couple of books (inanimate objects) are what have made the most difference in my life?
I think this is another hint pointing me towards whatever awfulness Bob is about.
In my last post about Bob , I suggested that maybe Bob was that part of me that is still crying out for love - both to receive and to truly give love. And that's something that's bad enough, but what if it goes even deeper than that? What if I've lost all want and desire in my life?
Because if I'm not striving towards something that I want then what am I here for?
I wonder: If the devil has gotten me to the point where nothing he dangles in front of me allures anymore, what does that mean? Is that the coup de grace? Is his work done?
And then how do you get desire back once it's gone?
Maybe I should just go with the writing idea since it's all I have. Which is why I suppose I'm writing this post, which is why I write at all.
Truth be told, I do enjoy writing.
And I'm beginning to get the writing bug back again.
And that's a start.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
326. the atheist bus - orthodoxy vs orthopraxy
I learned from a post on my pastor's blog that a version of the Atheist Bus is going to be making a showing in Seattle and in the comments section of his post there are a bunch of responses (most of them positive last time I checked) to the idea.
In writing about all the money that went into the campaign (and the likely additional money that some church will put up to counter the atheist ads), my pastor jokingly suggest we start a third campaign spearheaded by the website:
http://Can’tWeFindBetterThingsToInvestOurMoneyInLike-HomelessPovertyWaterEducationMalariaEtc.com
A great point which gets at something I've been thinking a lot about lately.
What's more important - orthodoxy or orthopraxy? That is to say, is it more important to believe the right things or to do the right things?
Of course I think the answer is "both" but then what happens if a person only gets one right?
I mean which is "better" or "worse:"
- the athiest who (by the standards of Christianity isn't in line with orthodoxy) works hard to combat global poverty and injustice (and therby practices a kind of orthopraxy)?
OR
- the Christian who believes all the right (orthodox) things but fails to invest in anything outside his own church and his 401k (orthopraxy fail)?
Because behind my pastor's faux-website is the idea that maybe the debate between theism and atheism is a luxury we can't afford right now. There are far more concrete problems in the world that need our attention, our money, our intellect, and our creativity.
And I agree with that wholeheartedly. Which is why I struggle with the orthodoxy/orthopraxy thing.
Again, the ideal is clearly to have both but we can't always have both and so I guess the thing that I struggle with is this:
If doing the right thing is more important than believing the right thing then why "waste time" trying to convert atheists or other non-christians who are doing good work around the world?
Honestly, I'm not sure.
I do have an idea, though I'm not sure how strong it is and I'm even less sure that it's possible to implement.
But it's all I have and so I'll share.
I think orthodoxy is more important BUT I think we need to work on the orthos (right, true, straight) part of the word a lot harder. Because if we truly had right belief then right action (including working for local/global justice) would inevitably follow. That the question, "what's more important, orthodoxy or orthopraxy" even needs to be asked suggests that we're not getting the orthodoxy part right.
In my own personal utopia, here's how things would work.
It starts with this premise. The plan of rescue and redemption, as laid out in the narrative of the Bible and lived out through the life of Christ, is the ideal way to bring about the restoration of the world.
If you don't buy into that premise then everything else falls apart but if you do, then keep reading.
I think it's vitally important to see the primary work of God's revelation in the Bible as one that is about bring healing to a fallen world. Salvation and evangelism is a part of that work, but only a part, not the whole.
With that in mind, here's a kind of grossly oversimplified idea of how I think things should look.
Everyone (christians, non-christans, people of all faiths or non-faiths) who can should work at doing what they can to fight problems like poverty, human trafficking, AIDS, clean water, etc.
Now some groups will be more successful than others and I believe that christians who operate out of an examined, holistic orthodoxy (which includes orthopraxy), informed by the Bible, will be the most successful in the long run. They will be more successful because God's plan is the best one since he's the one that got everything started in the first place. Because of the successes of christians, other groups will sign on to be a part of the Body of Christ (little to no evangelism necessary) and everyone lives happily ever after.
And I realize that's an extremely arrogant scenario to lay out, but if my premise is correct then isn't something like what I lay out a possibility?
And maybe the thorniest part of my idea is the bit where I say that evangelism is only a part of what we as christians are to be about because that's not how things appear in the Bible. In the New Testament, in particular, there are tons of references to preaching the Gospel and people joining The Way.
But here's what I think.
I think the first century church looked a lot like that little scenario I laid out above. When those first new christians believed in the Gospel, they were signing on to a movement to redeem the world - to bring food to the hungry, shelter to the homeless, justice to the oppressed. They became christians to be a part of the radical idea that maybe revolution is possible not at the end of a spear but by turning the other cheek, by going the extra mile, by giving up your life in order to save it. And they joined because they saw that the christians' way of doing things was actually working.
So when the NT talks about the apostles preaching the Gospel, what they were preaching was not just accepting Christ, they were talking about accepting the whole of what Christ was about and that included accepting his call and challenge to redeem this fallen world.
And so yes, the NT does talk about evangelism, but where a lot of evangelism falls short today is where it only speaks of believing in Christ - it fails to go on to say that accepting Christ means carrying on his call of redemption and reconciliation. Anything less is missing the point.
I don't know.
This post has veered a log way's off from where it started. I've laid out some pretty bold claims and I've painted them out in broad strokes, failing to build them up in any systematic way.
But it works for me.
Welcome to my world.
Now if only my own version of orthodoxy would lead to more of my own orthopraxy.
In writing about all the money that went into the campaign (and the likely additional money that some church will put up to counter the atheist ads), my pastor jokingly suggest we start a third campaign spearheaded by the website:
http://Can’tWeFindBetterThingsToInvestOurMoneyInLike-HomelessPovertyWaterEducationMalariaEtc.com
A great point which gets at something I've been thinking a lot about lately.
What's more important - orthodoxy or orthopraxy? That is to say, is it more important to believe the right things or to do the right things?
Of course I think the answer is "both" but then what happens if a person only gets one right?
I mean which is "better" or "worse:"
- the athiest who (by the standards of Christianity isn't in line with orthodoxy) works hard to combat global poverty and injustice (and therby practices a kind of orthopraxy)?
OR
- the Christian who believes all the right (orthodox) things but fails to invest in anything outside his own church and his 401k (orthopraxy fail)?
Because behind my pastor's faux-website is the idea that maybe the debate between theism and atheism is a luxury we can't afford right now. There are far more concrete problems in the world that need our attention, our money, our intellect, and our creativity.
And I agree with that wholeheartedly. Which is why I struggle with the orthodoxy/orthopraxy thing.
Again, the ideal is clearly to have both but we can't always have both and so I guess the thing that I struggle with is this:
If doing the right thing is more important than believing the right thing then why "waste time" trying to convert atheists or other non-christians who are doing good work around the world?
Honestly, I'm not sure.
I do have an idea, though I'm not sure how strong it is and I'm even less sure that it's possible to implement.
But it's all I have and so I'll share.
I think orthodoxy is more important BUT I think we need to work on the orthos (right, true, straight) part of the word a lot harder. Because if we truly had right belief then right action (including working for local/global justice) would inevitably follow. That the question, "what's more important, orthodoxy or orthopraxy" even needs to be asked suggests that we're not getting the orthodoxy part right.
In my own personal utopia, here's how things would work.
It starts with this premise. The plan of rescue and redemption, as laid out in the narrative of the Bible and lived out through the life of Christ, is the ideal way to bring about the restoration of the world.
If you don't buy into that premise then everything else falls apart but if you do, then keep reading.
I think it's vitally important to see the primary work of God's revelation in the Bible as one that is about bring healing to a fallen world. Salvation and evangelism is a part of that work, but only a part, not the whole.
With that in mind, here's a kind of grossly oversimplified idea of how I think things should look.
Everyone (christians, non-christans, people of all faiths or non-faiths) who can should work at doing what they can to fight problems like poverty, human trafficking, AIDS, clean water, etc.
Now some groups will be more successful than others and I believe that christians who operate out of an examined, holistic orthodoxy (which includes orthopraxy), informed by the Bible, will be the most successful in the long run. They will be more successful because God's plan is the best one since he's the one that got everything started in the first place. Because of the successes of christians, other groups will sign on to be a part of the Body of Christ (little to no evangelism necessary) and everyone lives happily ever after.
And I realize that's an extremely arrogant scenario to lay out, but if my premise is correct then isn't something like what I lay out a possibility?
And maybe the thorniest part of my idea is the bit where I say that evangelism is only a part of what we as christians are to be about because that's not how things appear in the Bible. In the New Testament, in particular, there are tons of references to preaching the Gospel and people joining The Way.
But here's what I think.
I think the first century church looked a lot like that little scenario I laid out above. When those first new christians believed in the Gospel, they were signing on to a movement to redeem the world - to bring food to the hungry, shelter to the homeless, justice to the oppressed. They became christians to be a part of the radical idea that maybe revolution is possible not at the end of a spear but by turning the other cheek, by going the extra mile, by giving up your life in order to save it. And they joined because they saw that the christians' way of doing things was actually working.
So when the NT talks about the apostles preaching the Gospel, what they were preaching was not just accepting Christ, they were talking about accepting the whole of what Christ was about and that included accepting his call and challenge to redeem this fallen world.
And so yes, the NT does talk about evangelism, but where a lot of evangelism falls short today is where it only speaks of believing in Christ - it fails to go on to say that accepting Christ means carrying on his call of redemption and reconciliation. Anything less is missing the point.
I don't know.
This post has veered a log way's off from where it started. I've laid out some pretty bold claims and I've painted them out in broad strokes, failing to build them up in any systematic way.
But it works for me.
Welcome to my world.
Now if only my own version of orthodoxy would lead to more of my own orthopraxy.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
325. thoughts on Hawaii
I've been living in Seattle now for about two and a half years. I've been back to Hawaii to visit three times now.
As time goes by, I'm beginning to realize what a strange place Hawaii is.
Of course it could be the case that it's the mainland that's odd and Hawaii that's normal. Then again, maybe in America there's no such thing as normal. Every place has its quirks and charms, its beautiful spaces and its sharp edges.
Some of the things I've learned about Hawaii (and Seattle):
I don't mean to be all down on Hawaii. There are lots of amazing, great things about the place. It's just that...well, when I lived there, I was a townie - which, in Hawaii, means that I was someone who preferred to hang out in the city rather than go to the beach. And the city of Seattle is just so much cooler than the city of Honolulu. And so when I go back to Hawaii, all the places I liked to go (places I thought were hip and cool and with it) aren't as cool anymore.
Lots of my other friends are water people. They need to be near water, more specifically, the ocean. Lots of them couldn't imagine living anywhere but Hawaii. But water isn't as high a priority for me.
And then there's the race thing.
I've written before about how lucky I am to have grown up Asian-American in Hawaii, and the longer I'm up here, the more this sinks in. Not only am I fortunate to have grown up in a place where I didn't always feel different, where I wasn't teased for my appearance or my last name, where I never had to worry that my race might be making it harder for me to achieve certain goals. I was also fortunate in the sense that because I didn't have to grow up with those sorts of racist barriers and experiences, it's easier for me to not get worked up when racism comes my way. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if there are times when I don't even notice subtle forms of racism in situations that Asian-Americans who grew up in the mainland would readily recognize as such.
I remember reading a friend's blog post where she wrote about a time where she was running in the park. She ran past a white woman who asked her, "where are you from?" My friend is Korean-American and grew up in the mainland and she immediately saw this question as a product of racist ignorance. She responded with a curt, "from America," and let her stink eye say the rest.
If it had been me in that situation, I probably would have just said, "Hawaii," and been on my merry way, never considering the racist undertones of the question.
Now an important point needs to be made here.
There may be some who will look at that and say, "why can't more people just be like Randall?" To which I would say that if anything, my response is the more damaging of the two because it doesn't take into account or confront what's really being asked.
The white woman, let's call her Flo, would never ask another white runner that question. The only reason Flo asked my friend where she was from was because she assumed that because she wasn't white, she must be from somewhere foreign and exotic. By answering with the snarky, "from America," she forced Flo to confront her own assumptions about who people are and maybe that will help her think twice before asking the same of another minority.
My lame response would have just perpetuated her stereotype allowing her to continue thinking, "all non-white people are from fascinating, far away lands and gosh, isn't it amazing that America opens her borders to everyone? Americans are awesome."
On the other hand, I hope that my mainland minority friends don't come down too hard on me for not confronting Flo on her question. Because I didn't grow up with regular experiences of racism, I'm just not as sensitized to it as mainland Asian-Americans are. When I hear Flo asking me, "where are you from?" I honestly just hear the question (and not the subtext) because I'm hearing it the way I would if the question had been asked of me in Hawaii. That is to say, I'd hear it as a mere question of geography, not as one of race.
I don't know, maybe after I've lived here for a few years I'll experience more racism and become sensitized to it as well. I don't know.
I'm really digging my time in Seattle.
I don't know if I'll spend the rest of my life here but I can say that I don't miss Hawaii as much as I thought I would.
And to be honest, I feel more "at home" when I arrive back in Seattle than when I land for a visit to Hawaii.
I suppose "home" really is where the heart is.
But I'm not sure my heart is anymore.
But that will have to wait for another post.
As time goes by, I'm beginning to realize what a strange place Hawaii is.
Of course it could be the case that it's the mainland that's odd and Hawaii that's normal. Then again, maybe in America there's no such thing as normal. Every place has its quirks and charms, its beautiful spaces and its sharp edges.
Some of the things I've learned about Hawaii (and Seattle):
- In Hawaii, there are almost no cool bars to just hang out in. Most of the bars in Hawaii have karaoke blaring away in some corner. And a lot of the bars look the same - sparse, white walls with beer and sports posters on them, generic tables, generic chairs, generic selection of drinks. In contrast, Seattle has a ton of really interesting bars - each with their own unique vibe or theme. And while they all play music in the background, at least it's not drunken wanabe singers or (even worse) crappy assed Jawaiian music.
- However, Hawaii bars do have some of the most unique pu pu selections. I remember going to an Irish pub in downtown Hawaii where they served sashimi. Is there another Irish bar anywhere else in the world with raw fish on their menu?
- Hawaii has very poor urban planning. On this last trip, there were a bunch of people from Seattle who were also in Hawaii (we were there to see a friend get married). One of these friends is an architect and she was the one who pointed out how it seems as if little to no thought went into zoning. And I didn't notice it until she pointed it out but she's right. Everything in town seems to just be strewn about haphazardly and the highway system is woefully inadequate to get the urban sprawlers back to their workplaces downtown.
- A lot of places also leave much to be desired when it comes to interior design. One of the worst examples of this can be seen at the popular restaurant chain, Zippy's. The restaurant side of their Vineyard branch is particularly gaudy and ill conceived. I mean, I love their food but they really need to fire the person or the firm that designs their branches.
- It's really hard to find people riding nice bicycles in Hawaii. There are lots of low-end hybrids and mountain bikes but very few nice road bikes. I remember when I first moved to Seattle I was blown away by the quality and variety of bikes I saw just tooling around town. And I don't just mean the big brands like Trek or Specialized or Bianchi. It's not uncommon to see people commuting on bikes like Kona, Surley, and LeMond. On top of that, every once in a while I see some really top end bikes on the road like Seven Cycles, Cervelo, and Davidson (my someday-dream-bike, made in Seattle). I also like that I can walk into a grocery store in Seattle with my bicycle helmet on and not get strange looks from the customers or the people behind the checkout stands. Doing so in Hawaii might get me one false crack.
- I suppose the lack of nice bikes in Hawaii is no surprise considering what a bike-unfriendly place it is. There are very few bike lanes and drivers, in general, hate bicyclists (or at least they drive that way). I didn't realize this until moving to Seattle where almost all drivers give me a wide berth when they pass. On top of this, Seattle has lots of bicycle lanes, sharrows, and even bicycle paths - little roads specifically for bikes!
- The famous Ala Moana Shopping Center is unique in that it is the largest open air shopping mall in the world. In addition, whereas most malls cater to a specific economic demographic, Ala Moana has everything from local grocery store chain, Foodland to nose-bleed priced haute couture shops like Betsey Johnson, Dior, DKNY, and Chanel. Show me another mall where you can buy a can of Spam and a Tiffany brooch without leaving the property. It also has the distinction of being named "one of Earth's four great mall fortresses" in Douglas Coupland's book, Shampoo Planet.
I don't mean to be all down on Hawaii. There are lots of amazing, great things about the place. It's just that...well, when I lived there, I was a townie - which, in Hawaii, means that I was someone who preferred to hang out in the city rather than go to the beach. And the city of Seattle is just so much cooler than the city of Honolulu. And so when I go back to Hawaii, all the places I liked to go (places I thought were hip and cool and with it) aren't as cool anymore.
Lots of my other friends are water people. They need to be near water, more specifically, the ocean. Lots of them couldn't imagine living anywhere but Hawaii. But water isn't as high a priority for me.
And then there's the race thing.
I've written before about how lucky I am to have grown up Asian-American in Hawaii, and the longer I'm up here, the more this sinks in. Not only am I fortunate to have grown up in a place where I didn't always feel different, where I wasn't teased for my appearance or my last name, where I never had to worry that my race might be making it harder for me to achieve certain goals. I was also fortunate in the sense that because I didn't have to grow up with those sorts of racist barriers and experiences, it's easier for me to not get worked up when racism comes my way. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if there are times when I don't even notice subtle forms of racism in situations that Asian-Americans who grew up in the mainland would readily recognize as such.
I remember reading a friend's blog post where she wrote about a time where she was running in the park. She ran past a white woman who asked her, "where are you from?" My friend is Korean-American and grew up in the mainland and she immediately saw this question as a product of racist ignorance. She responded with a curt, "from America," and let her stink eye say the rest.
If it had been me in that situation, I probably would have just said, "Hawaii," and been on my merry way, never considering the racist undertones of the question.
Now an important point needs to be made here.
There may be some who will look at that and say, "why can't more people just be like Randall?" To which I would say that if anything, my response is the more damaging of the two because it doesn't take into account or confront what's really being asked.
The white woman, let's call her Flo, would never ask another white runner that question. The only reason Flo asked my friend where she was from was because she assumed that because she wasn't white, she must be from somewhere foreign and exotic. By answering with the snarky, "from America," she forced Flo to confront her own assumptions about who people are and maybe that will help her think twice before asking the same of another minority.
My lame response would have just perpetuated her stereotype allowing her to continue thinking, "all non-white people are from fascinating, far away lands and gosh, isn't it amazing that America opens her borders to everyone? Americans are awesome."
On the other hand, I hope that my mainland minority friends don't come down too hard on me for not confronting Flo on her question. Because I didn't grow up with regular experiences of racism, I'm just not as sensitized to it as mainland Asian-Americans are. When I hear Flo asking me, "where are you from?" I honestly just hear the question (and not the subtext) because I'm hearing it the way I would if the question had been asked of me in Hawaii. That is to say, I'd hear it as a mere question of geography, not as one of race.
I don't know, maybe after I've lived here for a few years I'll experience more racism and become sensitized to it as well. I don't know.
I'm really digging my time in Seattle.
I don't know if I'll spend the rest of my life here but I can say that I don't miss Hawaii as much as I thought I would.
And to be honest, I feel more "at home" when I arrive back in Seattle than when I land for a visit to Hawaii.
I suppose "home" really is where the heart is.
But I'm not sure my heart is anymore.
But that will have to wait for another post.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
324. karma police
"Karma police, I've given all I can, it's not enough."
I don't believe in karma.
I don't believe that what goes around comes around, at least not in this present lifetime.
Here's what I do believe. We all need to do the best we can with what we have, knowing, all the while, that it may never be appreciated, may never come back to us, may never offer us safety from "the whips and scorns of time."
But more on this later.
First, the reason I'm waxing philosophical: my beloved MacBook got stolen yesterday, basically right out from under my nose.
Here's how it went down.
I was hanging out at Q Cafe working on entries for a new blog I want to start (more on this when it gets off the ground). I'm typing away at my laptop when a friend asks me for some help with her computer. She's setting up for a presentation in a room just down the hall from the public cafe area. I think this won't take long and so I go and help. I'm probably away from my computer for ten, fifteen minutes max but when I get back to my table it's gone. I stand there looking at the empty desktop and try to puzzle through the mystery of why my laptop isn't there anymore.
Because the first stage of anything out of the ordinary is denial, I refrain from jumping to the obvious conclusion that it's stolen. Instead, I look in my bag, I go back to the room where I helped out my friend, I retrace all my steps and think through all the different things that I could have done with my laptop before it went missing.
And then I faced the ugly truth.
It was gone.
Once I realized that, I moved on to other thoughts and feelings. I thought maybe God was punishing me for not using the bulk of my unemployed free time to catch up on my writing. I became angry that my laptop was stolen while I was doing something to help a friend.
I quickly reasoned away the idea that God was punishing me. I don't think that's how God works and besides, my laptop was stolen in the midst of a writing session.
That second bit though, I have to admit that this theft brought back some old, latent feelings.
I was reminded of an entry (caution, potty mouth) I wrote back in '05 where I ranted about how frustrated I felt when I found that someone had stolen the brake pads off of my bicycle while I was at work. Back then, it wasn't really the brake pads that pissed me off - they were just the last in a string of frustrations I was having to endure at the time. The thing I was really writing about was the realization that doing and good and being good didn't mean that good would come back to you. And that was a pretty startling, sober conclusion to come to.
It was frustrations and revelations like that that led me to re-think my understanding of Christianity. A lot of the churches I attended and sermons I heard back then gave me the idea that God rewarded and protected those who were good. There was supposed to be a kind of one to one relationship between what you did and what was done to you. If you tithed, you'd never be poor. If you practiced abstinence, you'd marry a supermodel and have a rockin' marriage (and sex life). If you extended love and good deeds to others, love and blessings would come back "pressed down, shaken together and running over. . ." (Luke 6:38).
But of course life doesn't work that way. I tithed and was always struggling with money. I abstained but remained hopelessly single. I did my best to do good to others and then got my brake pads stolen. And that's why I was so angry in that blog entry. It's no fun learning that the theology that governed your behavior for so long was wrong.
Then again, the good thing about learning that you're wrong about something is that you can start to get it right. And that's what I did.
A few months after the angry rant, I put up this post where I came to this conclusion:
Which brings me back to the thoughts at the top of this entry.
I don't believe in karma.
I don't believe that what goes around comes around, at least not in this present lifetime.
The person who stole my MacBook? He's probably done it before and he'll very likely do it again. He may never get caught.
Then again...
His life probably sucks. I mean, how bad must it be to go from place to place trying to take things, always being worried about being caught. What's it like to be living a life where you're always looking behind you? Maybe he's stuck in a cycle of addiction and needs to steal in order to soothe his angry fix. Maybe he lives for the high of the successful pull. Either way, there's no way I'd ever trade my life for his.
Me? I have friends who feel bad for me, who are offering to help in whatever way they can. And I suppose that's a whole lot better than being on the take and on the run.
And I have options. I've been trying to sell some things I don't use anymore on ebay and craigslist. If I get anywhere near asking price on a couple big ticket items (like my Felt racing bike that I'm finally admitting is too big for me), I'll have enough to get a new MacBook. Of course I was hoping to use that money to pay down some credit card debt in preparation for going back to school, but I should be thankful that I even have this option. A lot of people would just be SOL.
I'm fortunate in other ways as well.
I backed up that laptop about a month ago so I didn't lose all my data, and that's a HUGE plus.
And I'm glad that I'm put together in such a way that I understand that the laptop was just a thing and that I just don't have that thing anymore. I'm not all twisted up in a pretzel of anger or grief or jealousy. I'm not wallowing in self-pity.
You know, maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe things do come around - just not the same things. I probably never get my stolen MacBook back but I've got friends who are there for me. And maybe that guy has my laptop but I'm guessing he doesn't know what it's like to have friends who send consolation and support via Facebook comments and text messages.
All in all I suppose I'm actually a really lucky guy.
And maybe that's because of good karma.
I don't believe in karma.
I don't believe that what goes around comes around, at least not in this present lifetime.
Here's what I do believe. We all need to do the best we can with what we have, knowing, all the while, that it may never be appreciated, may never come back to us, may never offer us safety from "the whips and scorns of time."
But more on this later.
First, the reason I'm waxing philosophical: my beloved MacBook got stolen yesterday, basically right out from under my nose.
Here's how it went down.
I was hanging out at Q Cafe working on entries for a new blog I want to start (more on this when it gets off the ground). I'm typing away at my laptop when a friend asks me for some help with her computer. She's setting up for a presentation in a room just down the hall from the public cafe area. I think this won't take long and so I go and help. I'm probably away from my computer for ten, fifteen minutes max but when I get back to my table it's gone. I stand there looking at the empty desktop and try to puzzle through the mystery of why my laptop isn't there anymore.
Because the first stage of anything out of the ordinary is denial, I refrain from jumping to the obvious conclusion that it's stolen. Instead, I look in my bag, I go back to the room where I helped out my friend, I retrace all my steps and think through all the different things that I could have done with my laptop before it went missing.
And then I faced the ugly truth.
It was gone.
Once I realized that, I moved on to other thoughts and feelings. I thought maybe God was punishing me for not using the bulk of my unemployed free time to catch up on my writing. I became angry that my laptop was stolen while I was doing something to help a friend.
I quickly reasoned away the idea that God was punishing me. I don't think that's how God works and besides, my laptop was stolen in the midst of a writing session.
That second bit though, I have to admit that this theft brought back some old, latent feelings.
I was reminded of an entry (caution, potty mouth) I wrote back in '05 where I ranted about how frustrated I felt when I found that someone had stolen the brake pads off of my bicycle while I was at work. Back then, it wasn't really the brake pads that pissed me off - they were just the last in a string of frustrations I was having to endure at the time. The thing I was really writing about was the realization that doing and good and being good didn't mean that good would come back to you. And that was a pretty startling, sober conclusion to come to.
It was frustrations and revelations like that that led me to re-think my understanding of Christianity. A lot of the churches I attended and sermons I heard back then gave me the idea that God rewarded and protected those who were good. There was supposed to be a kind of one to one relationship between what you did and what was done to you. If you tithed, you'd never be poor. If you practiced abstinence, you'd marry a supermodel and have a rockin' marriage (and sex life). If you extended love and good deeds to others, love and blessings would come back "pressed down, shaken together and running over. . ." (Luke 6:38).
But of course life doesn't work that way. I tithed and was always struggling with money. I abstained but remained hopelessly single. I did my best to do good to others and then got my brake pads stolen. And that's why I was so angry in that blog entry. It's no fun learning that the theology that governed your behavior for so long was wrong.
Then again, the good thing about learning that you're wrong about something is that you can start to get it right. And that's what I did.
A few months after the angry rant, I put up this post where I came to this conclusion:
I realized that I could be kind and generous DESPITE the fact that it was a bad investment, despite the fact that it offered no yield. I could be kind and generous knowing full well that it would likely never come back to me, that it offered no guarantee of good friends, good jobs, good wife, not even a good reputation. I could be kind and generous as an act of sheer rebellion, as a subversive act of open aggression against a greedy, needy world. I could be the leader of a rebel force of one. I could strike out with guerilla attacks of random kindness. I sow the seeds of a revolution that seeks to overturn a world stuck in the trap of consumerism - where everything is seen as a transaction with one party profiting and another suffering a loss, where even free car washes are not really free car washes, where we are defined by what we own rather than what we give a way.
Yes, it's futile. Yes, I'm just one little man and my revolution of kindness will go unnoticed, ignored, perhaps even exploited by those who will take advantage of my cause. I acknowledge all those things, but I don't care. If I am just one tiny flame of light in a dark world, so be it. If I can allow the Kingdom of God to trickle into this fallen world through my life, I think that's as noble a cause as any.
It's mad, but it's beautiful. I just hope I'm up to the task.
Which brings me back to the thoughts at the top of this entry.
I don't believe in karma.
I don't believe that what goes around comes around, at least not in this present lifetime.
The person who stole my MacBook? He's probably done it before and he'll very likely do it again. He may never get caught.
Then again...
His life probably sucks. I mean, how bad must it be to go from place to place trying to take things, always being worried about being caught. What's it like to be living a life where you're always looking behind you? Maybe he's stuck in a cycle of addiction and needs to steal in order to soothe his angry fix. Maybe he lives for the high of the successful pull. Either way, there's no way I'd ever trade my life for his.
Me? I have friends who feel bad for me, who are offering to help in whatever way they can. And I suppose that's a whole lot better than being on the take and on the run.
And I have options. I've been trying to sell some things I don't use anymore on ebay and craigslist. If I get anywhere near asking price on a couple big ticket items (like my Felt racing bike that I'm finally admitting is too big for me), I'll have enough to get a new MacBook. Of course I was hoping to use that money to pay down some credit card debt in preparation for going back to school, but I should be thankful that I even have this option. A lot of people would just be SOL.
I'm fortunate in other ways as well.
I backed up that laptop about a month ago so I didn't lose all my data, and that's a HUGE plus.
And I'm glad that I'm put together in such a way that I understand that the laptop was just a thing and that I just don't have that thing anymore. I'm not all twisted up in a pretzel of anger or grief or jealousy. I'm not wallowing in self-pity.
You know, maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe things do come around - just not the same things. I probably never get my stolen MacBook back but I've got friends who are there for me. And maybe that guy has my laptop but I'm guessing he doesn't know what it's like to have friends who send consolation and support via Facebook comments and text messages.
All in all I suppose I'm actually a really lucky guy.
And maybe that's because of good karma.
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