Sex and Coke

NOTICE:  If you happen to be an attorney (whether working for Coca-Cola or otherwise), I freely admit that I talk about Coca-Cola in this blog entry.  I’m sure Coca-Cola and Coke are both trademarks, and this isn’t intended to infringe on that.  This blog entry is neither an endorsement nor condemnation of the beverage.  Just in case you were wondering.

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I really like Coca Cola.  When you live and work in a hot, tropical climate, an ice-cold Coke can be incredibly satisfying. 

 

It’s really a wonderful drink.  The acidic taste helps quench the thirst, the sugar gives some caloric intake, the caffeine gives a quick boost of energy, and the carbonation can make you feel full when the rice and whatever else is on the table doesn’t look terribly appealing.  It’s just a great beverage!

 

So, imagine that I have a can of ice-cold Coca-Cola.  And I think to myself what a wonderful beverage this is.  And I think further, that this beverage is so wonderful that 330 ml just isn’t going to be satisfying enough.  I mean, that’s only a good-sized glass worth.  So imagine that I round up about 15 glasses, each big enough to hold a can’s worth of coke.  And I take my single can, and divide it out evenly by pouring a little bit into each of the 15 glasses.  Then, I take a large pitcher of water and fill up each of the glasses to the brim with plain water.  Now I have 15 glasses of delicious, satisfying Coca-Cola, right?

 

Of course not.

 

I now have 15 glasses of slightly brownish water, and that’s about it.  If you ever tasted watered-down Coke (like when all the ice melts in your cup), you know how icky that taste can be.  It’s not satisfying at all.  In trying to spread out my satisfaction, I have instead radically diminished it.  It would have been much more fulfilling to simply accept the limits of my single can of the wonderful drink, and enjoy it in all its refreshing and satisfying purity.  Diluting it in an attempt to expand the satisfaction only destroyed it.

 

That’s God’s plan for sex.   In one sense, God’s intention to restrict sexual expression and fulfillment to the confines of the marriage covenant seems extremely limiting.  One sexual partner for life?  That’s it?  For many of us, sexuality seems to have so much more potential than that.  And there are SO many opportunities to seek for – and find – sexual pleasure in the world today.  It seems only rational to try to expand our satisfaction by seizing multiple opportunities for sexual fulfillment – whether that’s through multiple partners or just multiple websites.  But what we end up doing is diluting the pleasure that God intended, and diluting it in an attempt to expand the satisfaction only destroys it.  We are much better off to lovingly and gratefully accept the limits of a committed marriage partner as our sole source of sexual delight, and enjoy that pleasure in all its refreshing and satisfying purity.

 

 

 

Living into the Future

When you live in Cambodia, surrounded by a culture of those who are unfamiliar with Western holidays and traditions, even remembering when certain holidays ARE can be a bit of a challenge.  I mean, with Irish in my background, we enjoyed St. Patrick’s Day when I was growing up.  We ate corned beef and cabbage.  We drank green milk.  It was fun.  Now, St. Patrick’s Day can come and go without a trace!

 

That’s not as true of some of the major Christian holidays, of course, like Christmas and Easter.  The church here in Cambodia does remember those, although Easter is still a bit fuzzy.  People have asked me more than once when a holiday actually falls.  Here in Cambodia, Christmas is really all throughout December, and people don’t always realize that December 25 is the official holiday.

 

A while back, all this holiday-tracking made me realize something.  We usually celebrate a “holiday season” leading up to a holiday, and consider it finished when the holiday finally arrives.  The “Christmas season” generally kicks off around Thanksgiving, and lasts all month with party after party and all.  (Unless you work in retail, and then the Christmas season starts around Halloween or even earlier!)  But when December 25 rolls around, that’s the end.  People in the United States would probably look at you kind of funny if you invited them to a Christmas party on December 29, right?  The actual event marks the end of the season.

 

The same is true of Easter, and – in my home growing up, at least – of vacations.  The weeks and days leading up to our family vacation were a time of excitement and anticipation, as we eagerly awaited the great day of departure.  We weren’t nearly as excited when the vacation was over!

 

Why is this?  Why are we so excited leading up to a special event, and the excitement ends thereafter?  Why don’t we celebrate the Christmas season after Christmas?

 

I have a thought, and you can take it for what it’s worth.  I suggest this pattern of excitement exists because the joy of anticipation is part of our humanity.  We were made to live into the future.  We get excitement, joy, pleasure, and satisfaction in expectation of what’s coming, now what has already come and gone.  That’s just natural.

 

It’s not that the past is unimportant.  After all, remembering and celebrating the past is an important aspect of having holidays to begin with.  We usually celebrate holidays with traditions, which tie us to the past.  But when one holiday ends, we begin looking forward to the next one – because we are intrinsically drawn to the future.

 

I think this may be significant, because that’s the pattern of the Christian life.  We celebrate and honor the past, but we are living into the future.  We are made for the joy of anticipation of all the shalom that God has in store for us.

 

Happy holiday.  Whichever one is next.

 

P is for Parenting

Back in the day, I used to enjoy psychological tests.  Not the big, serious ones like the MMPI (which makes you feel weird just taking it, in my opinion).  But the more general, personality type of tests.  I remember taking tests based on the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator.  I recall finding out that I am pretty much an off the charts Introvert.  Not a surprise, if you happen to know me.  I also learned that I was a very strong “J.”  The J stands for judging, and is set in contrast to the P for perceiving.  One of the things I read is that J’s (like me) like to tie up loose ends and “have matters settled,” in the words of Myers.  P’s are more open to ambiguity, I guess, more tolerant of things being up in the air and untidy, unfinished.

 

Yeah, I’m definitely a J.  People chuckle when they look at my planner book, because I cross things off with a vengeance.  That’s such a great sense of satisfaction – getting to the end of the day and knowing that you’ve accomplished something meaningful.  Getting to watch an hour or so of TV at the end of the day, knowing that I’ve worked hard and been productive all day, is a great feeling for me.  I like for things to be done, crossed off the list, accomplished, finished.  I’m a J.

 

But I recently realized something.  One of the challenges I’ve encountered in my two years of parenting experience is that it’s not really a J-oriented activity.  Parenting Davey Will never gets crossed off my list.  Raising my son is never, ever, really “done.”  When I became a parent, I signed up for the perpetually unfinished task.  That’s the kind of things P’s are into, not J’s.  P is for parenting, I guess.

 

There’s no question that I find parenting Davey Will immensely satisfying.  But I am going to have to redefine my “job satisfaction” in this case.  I’m never going to have the satisfaction from saying, “Mission accomplished,” because there will always be more parenting work to do.  Parental satisfaction has to be more organic, more characterized by the quality of my relationship to him and the kind of person he’s becoming than by a set of tasks that can be crossed off as “completed with excellence.”  This will be a journey for this committed J, but it’s one I’m looking forward to making.

 

This isn’t any great revelation for experienced parents, I know. But I’m new at this.

Baby-Proofing

We know it’s important to “baby-proof” the house.  We’ve always understood baby-proofing the house as important to protect the baby.  We’re now entering a period where we have to think of baby-proofing the house to protect the house!

 

Welcome to the two-year-old boy phase! :o)

 

 

Faith and the Butterfly Effect

The idea of the "butterfly effect" is an intriguing one.  Popularly, it's the concept that a butterfly flapping its wings in China could cause a storm in the United States.  Scientists in the field of chaos theory call it "sensitive dependence on initial conditions."  The basic idea is this: objects and events are linked in a web of causality, and even a minor - minute! - change in one factor could cause a radically different outcome elsewhere in the "web."

 

There's an interesting exploration of the concept in the movie, "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button."  In one sequence in that film, the narrator "what ifs" about a series of incidents.  If any single one of the factors involved had started out slightly different, then a significant accident would have been avoided.  And, ultimately, the whole story of Benjamin Button might have turned out differently.

 

I guess you could say that I'm a beleiver in the Butterfly Effect.  And it helps me trust God more.  Let me explain what I mean.

 

I didn't go to church on Easter Sunday. I sure would have liked to.  It turns out that the days leading up to Easter Sunday would be the best days for me to take a ministry trip up to Kampong Thom and Siem Reap.  A week earlier, and one of the key people I needed to meet wouldn't have been there.  A week later, and we'd be bumping up against Khmer New Year, and again probably some people I wanted to see wouldn't have been available.  So I made the trip when I did, with my final responsibilities in Siem Reap ending on Saturday evening.  Now, I could have gone to church (somewhere) in Siem Reap, but I decided I would try to hustle back to Phnom Penh as early as possible and at least try to join in the fellowship lunch our Cambodian church was having after the morning service.

 

The bus usually takes about 6 hours from Siem Reap to Phnom Penh.  The earliest bus I could find left at 6:30am.  But then I checked into a 15-passenger van run by one of the bus companies.  It was supposed to be non-stop and they claimed it would make the trip in 4 hours.  Since it left at 7:30am, it would give me an extra hour in the morning, and still get me home earlier than the bus.  I shelled out the cost of the van (more than double the cost of the bus), believing it worth the price.

 

I have to admit that it did not escape me that this van was run by the "Red Dragon" bus company.  I've never been too eager to ride with a company with that mascot, as Revelation 12 does come to mind.

 

As it turned out, I was at the bus company's office bright and early on Sunday morning ready for the trip home.  I expected the trip to be non-stop.  I expected the driver to go at speeds that would contribute meaningfully to my prayer life.  And I expected to be in Phnom Penh no later than 12:00 noon.

 

As we began the journey, I realized that the driver wasn't going dramatically faster than a bus would.  Then, when we made a 20-minute stop in the middle of the journey, I noticed my frustration level increasing significantly.  I had made a bad choice.  I should have taken the bus.  It would have been cheaper.  It would have actually been more comfortable.  And I would have actually made it to Phnom Penh at about the same time.

 

As I inwardly seethed at this rather unfortunate turn of events, I thankfully remembered the Butterfly Effect.  If I had taken the bus, I would have saved money and been more comfortable.  But then the "initial conditions" would have been different, and who knows what the outcome might have been.  Perhaps - and this is a big perhaps, I admit - I would have been involved in an accident, or perhaps the bus had a pickpocket on it who would have stolen my passport, or...well, who knows.  That's the whole point of the Butterfly Effect.  It's really hard to imagine what might have happened if the initial conditions were anything different than what they were.

 

Here's where faith comes in.  I believe that Jesus is Lord of the Butterfly Effect.  If He permitted me to get on an unexpectedly slow and extremely irritating 15-passenger van instead of my usual bus, I have to accept that He's still got my best interests in mind.  I have no idea what the outcome might have been had it been otherwise.  But since Jesus is irrevocably committed to my well-being, I choose to accept that maybe this outcome - frustrating as it was - might have been a way of protecting me from something far more unpleasant.

 

As it turned out, I did make it for the tail end of our fellowship meal.  Time enough to eat some ham and dye a couple Easter eggs with my son.  And I got a good reminder that our living Lord reigns supreme over everything, even slowpoke vans and flapping butterflies.

 

 

 

Church and TV Watching

In other writing of mine (like my last entry on “missio café”), I have argued for a more participatory approach to corporate worship.  But that doesn’t mean there’s not a place for the kind of large-group, celebratory gatherings with which many of us are familiar, where dozens (or hundreds!) of people gather together (often on a Sunday morning) for corporate worship.  These kinds of gatherings of God’s people are significant, and there are many expressions of corporate worship which really can only take place in such settings.  Inspirational preaching, the use of dance and drama and worship bands, etc. – these things often only “make sense” in the context of large celebration gatherings.  So, how do we capitalize on the wonderful advantages of such a gathering without falling prey to the very real danger of participants in such a gathering becoming merely a passive audience?  This is a major concern.

 

My son gave me a clue to part of the answer.  Now, when we think of being a passive audience, there’s not much that is more passivity-inducing than watching TV.  It generally doesn’t require us to “engage” very much at all.  In fact, that’s one of the reasons I like watching TV at the end of the day – it helps me slow down my mental rpm’s before heading off to bed.  Let’s face it – when you watch TV, you’re supposed to be a passive audience.

 

My little toddler doesn’t seem to understand this.  It is very difficult for him to sit still while watching television.  When there’s music, he likes to get up and move.  When there’s not music, he likes to get up and move!  He likes to sing along to the music, even when his lyrics don’t even line up with the music on the TV, even when his lyrics don’t match any known human language.  Davey Will is active when he watches TV.  For him, watching TV is a whole-body, whole-self experience.

 

I would suggest that this is the way we should enter into our corporate worship.  Even if the particular format of the gathering (whether due to size, tradition, or whatever) seems to foster the “passive audience” response, we are committed to engage with that worship gathering in an active, whole-self manner.

 

Now, granted, much of what Davey Will watches is geared for small children, and so they include lots of colors and music and action.  But that’s another hint for us.  If the makers of LeapFrog and Blue’s Clues can take a passivity-inducing medium like television and make it a participatory, interactive experience for preschool children, certainly we can do the same with the church.  These shows are brilliant in their creativity.  But surely they are no match for God’s creative people!  Let’s move beyond the trite “turn to your neighbor and say, ‘God loves you!’” approach to “audience participation” and come up with some creative ways to make our large-group worship gatherings more like Blues Clues!

 

Passivity isn’t a concept my toddler understands.  It shouldn’t make sense to the church either!

Missio Café

The following entry is excerpted from my ministry newsletter.

Over the past several months, I have been conducting a class for some of the young leaders at our local church.  I have called the class missio, based on the Latin word for “sending” which is the root of our word “mission.” 

The theme of the class has been the mission of the church.  In the first section, we explored some of the themes in Scripture which help us understand that God’s mission encompasses all of life.  We as God’s people are to introduce His shalom into every sphere of human existence, demonstrating that Jesus reigns over all. 

Another major section of the course was on discussing what kind of understanding of the church is necessary to fulfill this mission, so we looked at a model of the church as a “missional community.”  One of the key points made in this section is that members of the church are not supposed to be a passive “audience,” but are instead active agents of mission.  But so often the church here (like the church elsewhere) puts enormous emphasis on the Sunday morning service, and then conducts it as a program that makes most people behave like an “audience.” I wanted the class to consider whether there might be alternative ways of organizing corporate worship in such a way that was more participatory and active.

So, we tried an experiment.  Based on some ideas I’d encountered in my reading, we worked together to organize an experience that we called “missio café.”  In one of the rooms of our house, I set up tables and chairs like a small coffee house.  We held the gathering one Saturday evening, and used candles for our primary lighting.  We had snacks and drinks available, because we wanted to keep the atmosphere informal and community-oriented.  The theme was on prayer, and we did a lot of experiential stuff to explore that theme.  We sang songs together on the theme of prayer.  We had a Bible lesson where I shared briefly, but also gave the participants opportunity to dialogue together about prayer and anxiety, and then we ended the lesson with a responsive reading which collectively asked God to take our anxieties from us.  We used instrumental and reflective music as background, especially while the participants explored different “prayer stations.”  These prayer stations included a place where they could write their anxiety on a piece of paper and then burn it in a small bowl, a “prayer wall” where they could write out their prayers directly to God, and a station devoted to the story of Hagar, leading people to think about how God hears and sees the needs of the marginalized.  We also had artwork around the room (created by one of the students) that suggested various social problems people could pray for.

Whew!  I told my students clearly:  I’ve never done anything like this before.  I had no idea how it would turn out, and I was nervous for about two days before the gathering!

But in a special, amazing way, God used that time to give young people an opportunity to interact with Him in an active, intense way.  It was an experiment, and I don’t know if we’ll ever do it again, but I feel so privileged to have had the chance to witness people entering into God’s presence in a fresh, creative way.