Tiger: Still the King of the Jungle?

Yesterday, I was in a great store called "Whole Earth Provision Co." when I noticed a children's book called "King of the Jungle". I noticed it because the entire front cover was a cropped, stylized picture of a tiger's face. My mind instantly jumped to a topic that has been on my mind frequently over the past few days: the unfolding Tiger Woods drama. Over the past week or so, as facts, guesses, and probably some outright lies have surfaced, my thoughts on this new American tragedy have morphed almost on a daily basis. Some of my opinions have begun to hold steady, and I want to share some of those with you.

First, while the revelations of Tiger's infidelity have shown the public at least one flaw in the character of the greatest golfer most of us have ever seen, I think it has shown us something deeper. Again. There exists in our culture a insatiable appetite to hear all the juicy details of the lives of others. This lust for information has created numerous streams of gossip gathering mechanisms, many of which will stop at nothing to get the dirt. Occasionally, some public figure will get caught being naughty and we'll all get to see the pictures, and then everything goes back to normal. Occasionally, Russell Crowe will throw a telephone at a hotel employee, or John Mayer will be photographed wearing a "banana hammock". Some celebrities have been known to quietly distribute photos of their new kid or their secret wedding in order to keep the frenzy to a minimum. At other times, the constant hounding can lead to disaster, as in the case with Princess Diana a few years ago. As with this ongoing Tiger Woods "situation" , these cases serve to point out a flaw in the fabric of humanity. Why is it interesting to us to see other people's lives unravel? Why do we take so much pleasure in the miscues of others? Why should it matter to us whether Mel Gibson makes anti-semitic remarks after a night of heavy drinking or has a mistress on an island somewhere? What is it about us that makes it such a big story when Britney Spears loses her mind and possibly her children? It seems apparent that Tiger's marriage is in trouble, but the fact that we see it on television everyday is further evidence that our culture is in trouble as well.

Secondly, I've heard at least a dozen people make comments related to being disappointed with Tiger over this mess. While I understand that because of media coverage, some feel a certain connection to Tiger, none of us know him or have any stock in his character (it's OK to keep drinking Gatorade and wearing your Nikes). His mom can be disappointed. Jesper Parnevik (the PGA golfer that introduced Tiger to his wife) can be disappointed. They probably have some neighbors that are hurt by this fiasco. But why should we take Tiger's indiscretions personally? Tiger is famous because he has amazing skill with a golf club. We watch him because he is dominant on the golf course. He is interesting because there are times when the odds in Vegas are even: Tiger or the field to win a tournament. He has no moral contract with America. We tune in because of his skill at playing a game. In my opinion, it's hypocritical to boycott (as some have said they will) the PGA or Gatorade because of Tiger's indiscretions, but continue to watch other sports, go to movies, and listen to music in which the performers have character flaws identical to Mr. Woods. While I think that Tiger's recently revealed marital infidelities are wrong and hurtful to his family, it seems silly that some among the general public feel personally hurt by this. Some have questioned Tiger's role as role model. He still is a role model. He's a regular guy that has worked his whole life to be great at one thing, and his work ethic (along with SICK ability) have paid off for him in spades. Why would we expect him to be a moral role model? Isn't that what fathers are for? Or pastors, or uncles, or neighbors?

Third, I think that we have zero understanding what a guy like Tiger has gone through. Don't think I've never considered what it would be like to have a Billion dollars in my account, because I have, but I wouldn't want it. Honestly, I wouldn't. Everywhere Tiger goes, someone wants a piece of him. He can't leave his house without a camera in his face and someone with a microphone asking him stupid questions. His wife, the Swedish supermodel, is in the same boat. How would I respond if I was good looking, famous, alone on the road all the time, and had so much money that I could buy anything I wanted anytime? What would life be like if I could never work another day in my life and still buy anything, but I couldn't leave my own house? I'm not asking you to feel sorry for Tiger Woods. I am also not attempting to excuse anything he has done. I am saying that you and I have no clue what it's like to be him. I am also saying that I think it's close to a certainty that wealth and fame is completely overrated.

Finally, let me say that I hope Tiger is able to put his personal life back together. I hope that he and his wife are able to make their marriage work. I honestly don't think they can do it if they stay in America. I think Tiger will have to rearrange how he does everything in his day to day routine. I think Elin will have to find a way to trust him again, which will be exceptionally difficult. I wonder if we will take as much interest in the "King of the Jungle" if he ends up a successful family man, but never plays another professional golf tournament?

Something New

So here goes the first blog of the new year. 2008 is in the rear view, which seems surprising in some ways, but welcome in others. The dawning of the new year brought a career change for me. The new job with State Farm has been nothing if not new and challenging. I had to take two tests to even be considered for the job. Now that I have worked there for three weeks, I had to take another test today to prove to the good ol' state of Texas that I am actually competent to do the job. I have actually enjoyed the process of being tested. Sometimes I am more in touch with the part of me that wants to be recognized as capable and intelligent. I have long had a touch of fear that I will surrender to that part of me, which in my estimation, would be a tragic way to live. I think everyone has some need to be recognized, and it's part of who we are. But to become dependent on that would so compromise who we are and how we live. The new job, selling insurance, comes complete with sales quotas based on selling "products" I barely understand using systems I've never heard of within procedures that seem to originate in a foreign language. But it's cool... I passed the tests. In all seriousness, there have been some hoops to jump through, which I am good with (just don't ask me to hula the hoops).
My typical blog begins with an idea that I want to express that takes form. Tonight, I just felt like writing. A possibility exists that I will read this tomorrow or the next day and wonder why the heck I decided to post it. But I won't delete it. Isn't that kind of part or the deal? If I get to spew out some thoughts that you may read and neither of us have to look each other in the eyes... then shouldn't I have to leave it out there? I dunno...
Anyway, 2007 was easily, far and away the absolute worst year of my life. 2008 was considerably better. Maybe we are on the upswing. New year, new job, new tests, new procedures, and new challenges. OK.

What about me?

This may a little too ambitious. Well, the possibility exists that this should be at least two blogs. But, who's counting? Let me begin by saying that in the past several years, I have become a loud critic of the church. Because I am a selfish American, I usually think of the church as North American Christian culture. Let me say, too, though, that in my travels to China, Venezuela, and Mexico in recent years (and Canada, I guess?), I have come to see that the Body of Christ exists in rugged, beautiful, sublimely powerful ways far outside of what we in the good 'ol USA think of as church. Back to my point, though. I have become a loud critic of American Christian culture. To better describe my point, let me make a short list of things that range from mild irritations to infuriating about church in America.

1. our incessant need to Christian-ize everything (is it even possible to have "Christian aerobics"?)
2. pet sins (um... why is being in a gay relationship worse than having an affair?)
3. "Christian" music - seriously, where is the dividing line between secular and sacred when it comes to art? and can a song or cd be "saved"?
   
4. bullhorns (don't get me started)
   
5. horrible tippers that leave tracts
6. churches that are exceptionally uncomfortable places for "sinners" for all the wrong reasons
7. The trendy garbage that goes on (lessee... WWJD, Prayer of Jabez, The God Chasers, Max Lucado, I Can Only Imagine, Casting Crowns, The Shack, to name a few)
   

You see what I mean? These are the kinds of things that drive me nuts. What if followers of Jesus went to aerobics with the unwashed masses? What if we actually loved sinners the way that Christ does? What if we learned to appreciate voices that speak truth that don't come from inside the church? What if we tarred and feathered the jackasses that scream at people with a bullhorn (OK, maybe that's over the top)? What if we stopped using tracts to do our dirty work and generously shared our lives with the people who serve us in stores and restaurants? What if we loved much, so that if sinners came into our gatherings, they experienced the power of shared lives? What if we slowed down and and actually mulled over scripture? What if we allowed a life-changing wealth of shared experiences speak to us and flow from our lives into the lives of others?

Everything I have said up to this point has been to describe a little of how and why I am become so cynical of the U.S. church culture. So here's where I am going with this... I am learning that being a critic (and/or) a cynic is about the easiest job in the world. The problem comes when the realization hits that anyone can do it. And no matter who does it, it pretty much helps no one. There are two ways that this has recently hit home for me.

Way 1.) All my liberal friends.
I have several really close friends that are pretty far to the left. One of my friends told me he thinks the death tax should be 100%. Several others believe that in the very least, the government should regulate prices in the healthcare industry. Another friend of mine told me he thinks that Obama's HC plan is left of McCain's, Hilary's was left of Obama's, and Hilary's didn't do near enough to fix the problems. Now, my personal belief is that liberal politics has never helped anyone. I think it's never worked in any country as a long term solution to any problem. My belief is that entitlement programs enslave people and erode freedom. I don't know that I can think of one thing that the government can do more efficiently and cost effectively than private industry. However, my liberal friends have shown themselves to be highly motivated, productive, intelligent people in almost every area of life you can name. They are ministers writers, professionals, and artists. As any thinking man would, I asked myself, "What gives?". The conclusion I have come to is this: my liberal friends are compassionate people. Pretty much any of them would do anything they could to help people. All of them have helped me out numerous times. As such, and being familiar with some of the social issues that wreak destruction in so many lives, they are motivated by their compassion to believe for change. I'll say that they have more faith than I do. I applaud their courage and willingness to believe. While I don't agree with their political views, I trust their hearts and their motivations. This realization has led me to thoughtfully consider how far I might be willing to go for social justice. The bottom line for me is that I don't trust the government to do jack squat for anyone without creating indentured servants. But what about me?

Way 2.) I listened to a man with whom I am becoming good friends preach a hell of a sermon last Sunday. In Matthew 25 there is the passage that talks about the "least of these". Jesus says that whatever we do to the broken, whatever we do to the poor, whatever we do to the down-trodden, whatever we do to the widows and orphans, whatever we do to the criminals, we do to Him. It gets much more difficult, though. He also says that whatever we fail to do for those same people, we fail to do for Him. The people in the story say something like, "Jesus, we didn't know it was you! If we would have known, we would've gladly helped you out. We thought it was the unwashed masses." He replies, "Depart from me, I never knew you." The profound implication is this: if we have a relationship with Jesus, we will recognize Him in the lost and broken. If we really know Him, we will see Him in the unwed mother and the crack addict, we will see Him under bridges and in prison cells. We will find him in the ghetto and in public schools. It may also be true that if we abandon these places and these people, we may not see Him at all. In Ezekial 39, the prophet tells a tale of fat sheep and thin sheep. He says that the fat sheep become fat at the expense of the skinny sheep because they nudge them out of the way at feeding time. The point is this: God provides, but he leaves it to our disgression to distribute. Isn't it odd that there are nations in the world that see their populations starving literally to death while in the U.S.A., the greatest medical problems we face are related to obesity and overeating.

So... I still find fault with North American church culture. I still don't believe any government can be trusted to take care of it's weakest citizens. It isn't enough to trust in a Darwinian survival of the fittest. It isn't even enough for me to take responsibility for myself and my family. I think I must be compelled by the love of Christ to love the "least of these". I think I must be on the lookout for the thin sheep and bring them to my table. I don't think God is asking me to eradicate world hunger. He is asking me to feed the hungry. He is asking me to visit the sick. He is asking me to take care of orphans and widows. Make no mistake. There is no points system. There can be no ulterior motive. Because He has rescued me; because He loves me; because of who He is, I must find a way to love.

The Devils' Holiday

I don't really have too many memories of Halloween growing up. One of the earliest is that we had a party at my house, including some of the traditional (?) Halloween games like bobbing for apples. The coolest thing about this particular party was that my mom used this old beater camera to take some photos. She gathered all of us kids (I think I was in 2nd or 3rd grade) and took one picture with our masks on and the next one with our masks off. The masks were those cheap plastic kinds with the low grade rubber band that pops off withing seconds of donning the mask. What ends up happening is that you keep re-tying the rubber band until it's so tight your eyelids are poking out the eye slits. But I digress... The point of this story is that the two pictures my mom took with the old camera superimposed on each other. The effect was startling - you could see through the masks! It was a little creepy. The other semi-vivid memory I have of Halloween is being home by myself as a young teenager, maybe 13 or 14. I turned off all the lights, locked the door, and watched Halloween (the original movie). It was pretty scary. When trick or treaters knocked, I simply ignored them. I think that my humbug mentality was already setting in.
At some point along the way, I decided that Halloween was an evil holiday. I decided not to participate at all. I was even perturbed by churches having their little psuedo-halloween parties, sometimes called "Hallelujah Parties" or "Fall Festivals". Even after I got married and had kids, we didn't celebrate Halloween. As my kids began to get older, it became harder and harder to remember, let alone explain to them, why I stopped celebrating "The Devil's Holiday". Last year, we got together with some friends and took the kids trick or treating. It was a good time. This year, fat and sassy with success from last year's candy haul, we decided to take the kids out in our new neigborhood (we bought a house in near downtown Amarillo in July). It was awesome. Tracy and I, accompanied by a lady bug, Shirley Temple, two zombies, a princess, and "the chicken" attacked the neighborhood zealously in a two hour marathon candy orgy. We had a great family time, thoroughly enjoying the company of our kids and their two friends. There were people out everywhere. We stopped and chatted with many, bumped into a few neighbors and friends. It was a great time. At some point, I wondered why I ever decided to stop celebrating Halloween. The cynic in me, ever present, is quick to point out that even in a "crappy" economy, the candy shelves at Wal-Mart were empty, a testament to the blatant commercialism of late October. Even so, my family and I enjoyed getting out in the 'hood, having some laughs, and being together.
As a follower of Jesus, it is sometimes difficult to determine which parts of culture are worthy of embracing. In my opinion, Halloween has passed the test for this family.

Civilization (or something)

A friend of mine, one that I know from hanging out at this incredibly cool coffee house called Roosters (NO! not Roasters... if you are in the Amarillo area and looking for a good place to have a great cup o joe and some semi-quiet, I highly recommend you go spend some time with Jacob and the gang on 34th and Bell), handed me a book called Flyboys, by James Bradley. There are people who recommend books to me all the time, but I am prone to take it a little more seriously when they actually follow up by handing me a copy. Many of you (haha - of the millions that are certain to peruse the brilliance herein exhibited) may have heard of this book. It's the incredible story of nine American airmen that were shot down near Iwo Jima during WWII. But it also is much more than that. The beginning chapters give some history of the relationship between the US and Japan. There are also several mentions of some of the imperialism that went on in the late stages of the 1800's, land grabs by the likes of France, Russia, England, and, of course, the US. Even Japan, after experiencing the brutish diplomacy of US naval officer Commodore Matthew Perry, tried its hand at the might is right style of international relations. I found highly interesting the lyrics to a Japanese children's song that gained popularity in the 1890's:

"There is a Law of Nations
It is true.
But when the moment comes, remember
The Strong Eat up the Weak."

Maybe it rhymes in Japanese. I actually have searched far and wide to find songs like these to teach my kids. In all seriousness, reading these lyrics put me on an interesting thought path. Doesn't it seem that this song could have been sung in ancient Greece? Would it be much of a stretch to imagine the likes of Alexander the Great, Ghengis Khan, or even Napolean humming along to this as they made their conquests? How about Longshanks and William Wallace singing it aloud as they sacked one another's cities? Might it have played incessantly in the mind of Xerxes before the Battle of Thermopylae, or in the mind of Hitler as the Blitzkrieg blew through Poland in a matter of a couple of days? Is this the song that resonates in the hearts of Obama and McCain as the election nears? Only kidding about that one...
But seriously, has civilization changed much in the past 6000 years? The popular saying (at least by high school history teachers) is that those who fail to learn from history are destined to repeat it. Has mankind learned much? Are we any more civilized in 2008 than at any other time in history? Have we advanced intellectually and emotionally enough to value other cultures as equals of our own? Have we matured as humans to the extent that we can see beyond "might is right"? Or do our tiny lives make up nations that still only respect the guy with the biggest stick?
Curiously, it seems that we haven't evolved much. It seems that we are still incredibly weak to the lure of power and wealth. It seems, too, that nations still wield power with all the accuracy and wisdom of a sledgehammer. I have asked many questions, many of which have no easy answers, if any answers at all. I don't write this as a defense or endictment of the US or any other country. I write as a man who wonders about where we are going, about what kind of civilization my kids will live in and pass on to their kids. I write as one who wonders if the way of life we know in 2008 can (or should) sustain itself indefinitely.

Thanks for reading...

The Angels Sigh

There is a song by James Taylor called Copperline. He explains that it is a song about growing up in North Carolina. It is really amazing. It's one of those songs that remind you that a magical mix of lyrics and melody can take your heart places. It reinforces my belief that the heart knows about places the mind has yet to see. Anyway, I happened to listen to it today, and, as usual, I got swept up in it. There's a little bridge at the end that says this:



"Day breaks and the boy wakes up

And the dog barks and the birds sing

And the sap rises and the angels sigh

yeah"



For some reason, when I heard those lines today I thought of my daughter, AJ. I thought, "What would make an angel sigh?" And I kept thinking about AJ's beautiful blue eyes. For sure, if angels do sigh, I think those eyes would do it. So I was really having myself a moment in the suburban on the way home. So I pull into the driveway, and can you believe it? Tracy has just beaten me home. AJ is standing near the driveway, waving at me. Tracy goes on into the house, and AJ comes around the suburban to meet me. She was grinning ear to ear, reaching up to take my hand. She and I walk to the porch, up the steps, and toward the front door. Right before I reach for the door, she exclaims, "Dadddeeee!", apparently just for the sheer joy of the moment. I looked down at her and she's giving me the million dollar smile with those eyes the color of clearest sky you've ever seen. The weight of that moment was almost more that I could take. I wondered for a second how the heart knows about those places. It was good.

Anniversary

So, my anniversary is on September 11, which means, ironically, that I won't ever forget it again. It also lends a little oomph to the memories of that day in 2001. I remember several things about 9/11/01, but I think the two most vivid are as follows...

1.) Tracy and I left a hastily called prayer meeting to go out to dinner. My thinking at the time was that the real aim of the terrorists was to thwart my way of life, or, in other words, to make me afraid to go out, etc. I don't really know if I still believe that exactly, but it certainly made sense at the time. I remember going to this little cafe in Canyon. We were literally the only two people eating dinner. It was so eerie, sitting there, attempting to enjoy the day that only comes once a year, and being so alone (alone together, of course).

2.) I remember seeing the lines for gas. And the gas was, like $4.00 a gallon, which, although unheard of at the time, was actually a harbinger of things to come. I remember reasoning that I wouldn't get in a gas line for those ridiculous prices. (I still probably wouldn't wait in a line, but I pay close to that price every time I put gas in these days.) It's funny how my thought process that day is kind of cemented in my mind. I thought of all the places that I frequented and decided that if there came a gas shortage, I would simply walk. That's it. Walk to work, walk the kids to school, walk to the grocery store. I mean, I tried to think of every place we went regularly, and came down on the side of If I Can't Walk There, I Won't Go. Weird.



I say all that to say that as each year passes, the surreality of that day is replaced a little more with some sort of normalcy. In fact, this year's version of the Anniversary was much better for a few laughs than wide-eyed shock. Now this one, our 15th, didn't rival the 10th, which saw us spending seven sun soaked days in Cozumel, but it was a good day. I will share a self deprecating, but hopefully funny story. I, ever the romantic, went a few days early and purchased a Couples Spa Package. I will be the first to admit that if it's metro for a guy to enjoy being pampered... then I am definitely not metro. It really doesn't have that much to do with the pampering part, but my complete and utter discomfort with being in such a public state of undress. Public in this case means in someone's presence other that Tracy. This particular discomfort goes the way of the American Bison in Cozumel, since none of those jack-ass tourists are likely to be lucky enough to lay eyes on this pasty white kid again in their pathetic, miserable, little lives. But I digress...

So the first part of the Couple's Spa Packge involves a hydro-therapy bath. Together. The sign on the back of the door says, "Bathing Suits Must Be Worn At All Times". I relate that just so you don't get the wrong idea about the context of a shared hydro-therapy bath. So that was pretty cool, lots of good smells, some quiet music, a dark room... and that damn bathing suit.

The second part of the Couple's Spa Package, which is likely the most beneficial, maybe even practical, part of the ordeal, is the couple's massage. We were ushered into another dark, quiet room equipped with two massage tables. It was at this time that the second difficult decision had to be made. (I realize I have not yet explained the first difficult decision, but we are coming to that.) Our "guide", whom we'll call Josh, explained that the left table was his, and that the table on the right would be "manned" by Sarah. I have heard on several occasions discussions about various combinations of gender and masseuse, most of which involve at least some untruth. This discussion takes on whole new complexities when shared by husband and wife. The long and short of it is that I chose Sarah, sight unseen, mind you. So the massage ensued, and was very relaxing and enjoyable. Unfortunately, near the end of my massage, my first difficult decision resurfaced, only because I chose rather poorly. I would like to remind readers at this point that the Couple's Spa Package was only my second official massage. Official in this case simply rules out those little shoulder rubs by well meaning but retarded people that last either way too long, or just long enough to make you think about getting a real one. At any rate, my first official massage came five years ago in Cozumel. I guess they do it different in Mexico, because I stayed on my stomach the whole time. My first difficult decision was what to wear under my robe into the massage room. Thinking of my first official massage experience, I went with the nothing under my robe option. This was revealed as utter folly when Sarah asked me to turn over onto my back. The sheet that previously worked wonderfully covering my back side, seemed suddenly seriously insufficient for covering my front. I believe it is in everyone's best interest to end this segment of our story by saying that I was in no way comforted by Tracy's remark that "these people are professionals and they've seen it all." Well, that may be, but they haven't seen all of me!

The Couple's Spa Package ended in a third phase which involved yet another quiet room, though well lit this time, two glasses of champagne, chocolate covered strawberries, and this way-too-sweet cake, with icing like armor. Overall, I give the experience high marks, but I also rank it high in the Dave is Socially Uncomfortable area.

I don't know if you caught on, but there are two morals to this story. One is that the most devastating events will be partially, of not completely, healed over time. The second is that you might ask some probing questions before lying naked under a thin sheet in a public place.