The Larstites [Part VIII]

kay, Sam,” the designer began, “can you explain this? …please.”
“Well…” Samdel was not sure how to respond. He quickly remembered what the assignment had actually been and felt ashamed for the scribbles he brought. “Well,” he proceeded, “I guess I don’t really have an excuse, I just got carried away drawing and, well, I suppose I forgot the to do what you told me. I’m sorry…”

His head hung low, and he could feel the nervous tensions building within him until the pressure brought a fuzzy cloudiness to the front of his head. A gentle quiver crept into the lower part of his face, so he continued looking down, ashamed of his shame.

The director watched him, still somewhat frustrated, yet sympathetic. “Sam, I had seen something special in you. I thought you might even replace me someday as the director. I’m not as confident that that is still a possibility.” He looked over at Samdel again to see if he reacted; Samdel winced slightly and shyly peered back. “Nonetheless, what you have drawn here is quite interesting, possibly even meaningful.”

Samdel was not sure he had ever heard the word ‘meaningful,’ but he was sure he did not know its meaning.

The designer sensed the confusion in Samdel and asked, “Do you know what that means? – ‘meaningful’ that is? Samdel’s hesitation was answer enough. So, the director decided to explain.

“First, for this drawing to be ‘meaningful’ it is considered to be of value. So, although it is not what I was asking for, I still believe it to have value. Next, it has significance, implications, eloquence, expression. Now, I’d like to know what it expresses for you.” He finished explaining and looked at Samdel, awaiting his response.

Samdel had relaxed a bit during the designers monologue, and he had managed to refrain from letting any tears escape. Samdel was thankful for that. So he began. He told the story, as best as he could, of his afternoon’s attempt at drawing, then the dream, and finally his attempt at drawing the image in the dream. He was frustrated and embarrassed at the inadequacy of his story. At every part he felt he was trying too hard to make an excuse, when the fact of the matter was that he just got side-tracked. He had simply forgotten the assignment because of his dream. So, when he came to the dream in the story he tried to explain it with extra detail, hoping the designer would understand how distracting it was.

He finished his story and was slightly out of breath. He looked to the designer, then away. There was no way to know what reaction he would have.

“Why did you feel the need to draw your dream? It is an interesting dream, for sure; but why did it become so much more interesting than the assignment?”
“I don’t know if I believe in The Cause anymore. I met this man on the way here, a Karstillt, and he extinguishes the stars everyday. If the stars were still lit, there would be no need to light them again in the evening, so what makes lighting the stars any greater a task than extinguishing them? Why is the old Karstillt – all Karstillt – outcast? They’re important too… aren’t they?” He paused, realizing he had gotten off track. Concluding he said, “How can I work for this when I don’t even know if The Cause is real, if it even makes sense?”

The director had listened to Samdel’s little rant. He thought it interesting that Samdel seemed to dodge the question, much the same way he had dodged the assignment. He decided he must be gentle with Samdel – his understanding of the world has been challenged.

“Samdel,” the director said, thinking about Samdel’s concerns. He continued, “to do something for the sake of ‘The Cause’ must mean it has also become your cause. We talked about what it means to be efficient, and I am happy that you are taking it seriously, but is ‘The Cause’ not a decent cause? Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. At the very least, the answer is not a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’ – there must be deliberation and thought given. I want you to think about this and ask some questions. Even if you don’t believe there to be an answer, ask the questions. Mostly, don’t try to give yourself an answer too hastily; if the question is worth asking, the answer is worth waiting for.”

“What questions should I ask?”

“That, Sam, is a great first question. Ask it of our first implied question, ‘is “The Cause” a decent cause?’ and see what questions you discern.”

Moving through the dark corridor, Samdel envied all those Larstites running tests. They seemed to know what they believed and why their work was important.

Samdel walked home, slightly confused about the director telling him to question questions rather than answering them. He realized though, that through a lot of this he had not talked to his father since the star-lighting trip.

Walking through the door and entering the living area, he saw his father reclining after his afternoon nap.

“Pops,” Samdel said, “can we talk?”

the reason for the season [revisited]

Some interesting questions were brought up on the last post. Tyler asked:

I guess I’m left wondering as I hear this song and remember the Walmart employee, can we go back? Is it possible for us to return to what Christmas ought to be? When will the tension have mounted so much within us that we are forced to choose between commercialism and Christ?

When he brought these questions up, it led me to ask the first question especially. Can we go back? What would it mean for Christmas to be more Christian than materialistic? So, first I think about how this contemporary situation parallels with the time Jesus was born (which is what we are celebrating at Christmas). In general terms, the Israelites were in exile. The religious leaders had become in close relationship with the political leaders, for the sake of religious peace. This had led, though, to a corruption in the religious leadership (hence, Jesus often criticized the Pharisees and Teachers of the Law/Torah). The Israelites felt abandoned by God, the focus had shifted to the politics of religion over worship, and there was great unrest among the people of God. They needed a messiah. We’re in a similar time of unrest. many people feel that “God is dead” and materialism and capitalism have become the dominant narratives for most everyone, including Christians. We need a messiah.

Maybe this means we are actually ready for Christmas. We are ready for the Messiah whom Christmas celebrates.

Then, I think about what led to Jesus death. Jesus stood against the powers and principalities of the day. He fought, in word and action, against the narratives of materialism and political religion. And those powers, starving for their authority and control, killed him.

Are the two men, the one in the song and the man at Wal-Mart, similar to the story of Jesus? Is their death like Jesus’ death?

I think, in a sense, it is a similar story. Perhaps we killed Jesus through our selfish struggle for power and control. Jesus came ushering in the Kingdom of God, and we, so eager to have things our way, killed him. Maybe, for us to ‘go back’ means that we see again how much we need a messiah – the Messiah.

And I think these stories show us how much we need Jesus.

the reason for the season

Here is a song by The Reign of Kindo titled “Breathe Again.” It’s a very interesting Christmasy song.

Snow in the air, as it rides the winter breeze
Crystals of ice are hanging from the trees
The morning of Christmas has arrived in its due time
The children are waiting, their joy becomes mine

We march down the stairs and into the other room
The lights shining bright on the tree for all to view
The window is shattered and the presents are all gone
And the cries of my children wrote this song

I swear, when I get my hands on him
He’ll never breathe again.
I won’t stop tearing him limb from limb
He’ll never breathe again.

I get in my car to chase the only set of tracks
A gun in my hand and a bag in the back
Deep in the slums, I saw him with their toys
My gunshot rang out,
But the snow absorbed the noise.
I bagged up his body and I threw it in the car
With all the toys that he’d carried oh so far

Now that I’ve got my hands on him,
I can breathe again
Finally, I’ve rid the world of him and
I can breathe again

Back at the house all my children were so sad
But when their presents return, then not but joy,
They’ll surely have
I drove to the river and I threw the body in
No one else will be paying for his sin

Something screaming inside me
Says that I can breathe again
Judge me all that your hearts desire,
But I can breathe again.

I think this song points strongly toward a common perspective on Christmas. We have our box that Christmas must fit within – a compartment, if you will, that Christmas becomes. When I hear this song, I first thought of the story from last year’s Black Friday sales. The expectation seems to be that Christmas has to be a certain way, and that this ‘certain way’ is a Christmas full of presents that are so grand that the recipients can’t help but think, “wow, that person is just really great!” This expectation became so strong that, in 2008, a Wal-Mart employee was trampled to death by over-anxious shoppers.

This song by Reign of Kindo shows a father who is so obsessed with Christmas being ’so perfect’ for his children that he kills a man to get the gifts back. He trades the thief’s last breath for his breath of comfort. And now Christmas is perfect, now Christmas is exactly what it’s supposed to be.

And then, we ask ourselves, what is Christmas ’supposed to be’?

Legion [revisited]

In Mark 5:1-20 there is a story of a man who is said to be possessed by a multitude of demons. If you don’t know the story, check it out.

When I read this passage, I thought of a dream I had recently. In this dream there were many zombies. They were eating and devouring everyone. Then, I got bit. I turned into a zombie and began biting people. It was torturous. I had these conflicting thoughts within me. I knew that I did not want to eat and bite people, but I continued to do so nonetheless. I felt that I was powerless. Then, I came across a professor here at school, Dr Montgomery, and a fellow student. The torment was still strong, but somehow I was of right mind to warn my professor and friend. So, I said, “Hey Montgomery, look, I’m a zombie. I don’t want to eat you, but I really don’t have a choice. You should run away.” He looked at me, laughed slightly, and said something like, “Platter, your soul’s been gone for quite a while. You’re the least of my worries,” his voice dripping with sarcastic wit. Fortunately, he left and was safe.

What I think is really interesting about this comparison is that I catch a glimpse of the turmoil of this possessed man. He is conflicted with a ‘legion’ of voices within. He has no peace of mind. In my dream, I have a similar conflict. I can’t resolve a set of inner-conflicts. I don’t want to eat people, but my zombie-nature tells me I must.

We are all filled with similar conflicts. At times, I want to tell my friends how much I care about them. Yet, at the same time, I want to have my alone time. I want to be recognized as a great person by my friends – I deserve to be recognized. Though I want to be humble. These conflicting desires pour out into the way we understand and act in the world. At times, we become – or feel – somewhat monstrous, like this man known as ‘Legion.’ We feel like we are defined by this conflict and our whole identity becomes wrapped up in the struggle. When asked for his name, the man replied, “My name is Legion; for we are many.” We get so caught up in our inner-turmoil that we don’t remember who we are beyond it.

Christ is the only hope for this man. Christ is the hope that where he was full of conflict and turmoil, there could be one voice; there could a complete person again. And we see that Christ is our hope too. As he became victor over the voices within the demon-possessed man, so also he can be victor over our inner-turmoil. As Christ was resurrected as victor of death, destruction, and sin, so also he is able to give us completion and wholeness.

The gospel of Christ is the gospel of hope. Where we are broken and despairing; where the past seems to be controlling; where death seems to divide; where sin seems to overwhelm; and where we are failures – Christ brings hope; Christ creates opportunities, he unites, he forgives, and he redeems.

And the hope provided to the man called Legion, becomes our hope and our future.

Reckless Laughter

The stars aligned a few nights ago. And by this I mean, of course, that my roommate and I went to bed at the same time. So, we were lying in bed (our own separate beds!) and having a time of Jibber-Jabber with James and Jon. That definitely sounds like a good morning radio show. One consistent thing that happens when in this rare situation is we end up coining some odd and random catch-phrase (also conducive to morning radio show atmosphere). Examples include: “Accept it and move on” and “it’s not peepee time, it’s sleepy time!” (don’t ask… it makes NO sense. haha) Well, this specific night, we coined a new and powerfully dynamic phrase: “Reckless Laughter.”

Let’s bask in the beauty of this statement.

Reckless Laughter.

Wow.

‘What is reckless laughter?’ you might ask… That, my friends, is precisely what I’d like to begin to define (or attempt to define). Reckless laughter is a full-body surrender to the joyous inner-movements that bring one to laugh in the first place. One way this typically manifests itself is by a variety of laugh sounds and styles pouring out of the laugher’s mouth. It could be a wheezy old-person sounding laugh, a stifled and breathy laugh, out of control gulping for air laugh, high pitched screechy laugh, the silent laugh, or perhaps the tearful laugh – and James can do all of these in one laugh-session. Each of these have a number of variations as well, but I don’t have enough education and research to present an adequate typology of all these different laughing modes.

Another thing that is especially true of reckless laughter is that its reckless nature is partially due to how contagious and irremediable the laughing becomes. Once the laughter has gotten to the ‘reckless’ stage, there’s no turning back. Everything, and I mean everything will be funny from that point on, until one’s head explodes with rapturous guffawing fun – and that’s not a good place to be. Plus, you, or your laughing companion, begin to laugh at the laughter itself. All of the sudden, the laughter is self-perpetuating.

They say perpetual motion is impossible, but the laughter equivalent (perpetual laughter) is possible,  and we know this to be called “Reckless Laughter.”

Even though I don’t know what this image at the top is talking about, I’m gonna say, for effect, that Reckless Laughter lands on the left side of the coordinates (even though I know this is not truly how the graph is oriented).

James, my roommate, has also written about this specific laugher. Check it out.

You are the Controller.

Here are some worthwhile videos.  Microsoft is doing some really neat work with the Xbox 360. One thing I really appreciate about the approach Microsoft is taking with this is that it does not require a whole new system (not that I even own one, haha), but it adds some hardware – and removes some – and has a firmware update. Check out these videos of this revolutionary technology:

and then, here is a somewhat related video of the kinds of interaction that will be possible with this technology:

I really think this has some neat potential for gaming, but possibly for general computer/user interfacing. Enjoy!

coffee

my development has been closely examined
I am pruned and watered as conditions require
and while I am pulled apart and scrutinized
my defects are removed and thrown in the fire

I am left to dry and given my ‘space’
as the elements soothe and allow me to rest
then, ready or not, I am brought to the roaster
with another chance to remove worst from best

I am a labeled and priced product
marketed, packaged, and sold
I am a means to an end
“medium,” “bold,” or “extra-bold”

then, being ground and placed in my filter
I am strained and drowned in boiling liquid
the drink is poured and doubly enjoyed
so, they dump me in the trash and shut the lid.

God asked me on a date!

Tonight I went to a college-aged worship service in the OKC area. I like to join with this small group (probably around 60-75 students) for worship because there is free food. Okay, that’s not the only reason. I have found it to be very meaningful to have a place to worship where I am not in some type of leadership position. It puts me in my place, in a sense. At times the message/discussion can be very meaningful and there is generally pretty good music, which is most importantly earnest worship.

On this particular evening, the leader made a number of statements about God. “God loves you. God wants to do things for you and with you. God is Father.” Pretty decent statements; not amazing, but decent. He then made an interesting shift. He continued by saying things like, “God is in love with you. God wants to do romantic things for you. God is your daddy.”

A lot of people like this kind of language these days, and there are many worship songs that present a sort of “God is my boyfriend” type of relationship that seems very meaningful and comforting to many people. But is God really my boyfriend? First, that’s just kind of weird for a guy to say (besides that it assumes that God has a gender, namely male). Aside from that, is it really what we want to believe about God?

We have two main claims about God – One, God is ‘your daddy’ and two, God wants to be romantic – God is ‘in love’ with you. I’m not going to lie, if my Dad tried to get romantic with me, it would really freak me out. Oh, well maybe God the Father is our daddy, and Jesus wants to be romantic with us…

I’m still not convinced.

Jesus invited us to come to God saying “Abba Father” – often interpreted in some sense as “daddy” or “Papa,” but it is somewhat an odd interpretive move to then reverse the claim saying, “God is your daddy.” I think it more a statement inviting us to approach God as we would our earthly father than claiming God as our ‘daddy.’

I have no idea what kind of Scriptures demonstrate our relationship with God as ‘romantic,’ but I believe there is too much strange baggage that we associate with ‘romantic relationships’ to push that into our relationship with God. Does this mean that our relationship with God is overly-emotional? or somehow sexual? or is it based on chemicals, like endorphins, in our brain?

I think the intent of this language is good, for I believe it is trying to grasp the way we are able to be relational with God. It maybe tries to give us an analogy of how to approach God intimately, through the grace of Jesus Christ and in the power of the Holy Spirit. I just hope we are careful and mindful enough to recognize when these attempts are not the most appropriate for our expression of God and our relationship with God.

sleep.

Why is it that I hate sleep? I have come to terms with the fact that this is a largely irrational disposition. I was talking with a friend about it today and found myself saying strange things like, sleep is like pretend dying. I thought that was pretty funny, maybe even witty at the time, but now I think it very silly. In fact, perhaps quite the opposite is true.

Another friend, last night, quoted a statement that says that lack of sleep can lead the mind to a state likened to drunkenness. Well, I decided to google it.  haha

I found this website where some of the dangers of insomnia and lack of sleep are listed. There are quite a few downsides of sleeplessness, and I don’t think I’ve been taking them seriously enough. A big one being, or perhaps an overarching one, that the over all quality of life is lessened when one is consistently deprived of sleep.

In extreme cases, this can be life-threatening. So, perhaps rather than sleep being equated with a pretense of dying, the lack of sleep is rather a preparation to die.

The Larstites [Part VII]

lright, Sam,” the designer began, preparing to explain the instructions for Samdel’s assignment, “here is some paper, pencils (color and black), and an eraser. I want you to take these things and go home.”

“What do I do with this?” Samdel asked.

“Draw.” seemed to be the only answer the designer was going to give. Then he continued, “when you leave here, I want you to pick out your favorite lighting design from the dark hall – or at least the one that is most interesting to you – and draw it from memory while you are home. Try and figure out how the specific contraption works and what its benefits are, then figure out the weakness, or weaknesses, of the design. After you have done this, suggest at least one  improvement for the design. Bring it back tomorrow, around the same time.”

Samdel looked down at the satchel full of gifts from the designer, trying to figure out why he would be asked to do this assignment. “Are three pieces of paper enough?” was really all Samdel could think to ask.
“Yes,” the designer said, “we want to be efficient, now don’t we?” As the designer finished the sentence he smiled and winked. “Well, I guess you’re new to this, maybe one more piece will do,” he said, handing Samdel another sheet of paper. “Use both sides, and return what you do not use,” he said as he turned on his chair to return to his work.

Samdel thought about the assignment, said goodbye, and walked back out into the dark hall. There were many different types of ‘lighting contraptions’ he had seen on the way through the first time, and he was not sure which to choose. He saw the Larstite who had held the ‘detonator’ previously. The twitchy Larstite was occupied setting up a fresh orb in one of the rooms. He was standing on a latter (which was unfamiliar to Samdel), getting frustrated at the hanging rig.

Samdel could hear him cursing under his breath, saying something about how no one would help him and that he was the only one who did any work. Samdel felt compassion for him, seeing how sad this twitchy Larstite was.

“Can I help?” Samdel asked, hoping to relieve the twitchy one of his stress.
“Probably not, but you can try,” he said without looking down. “Hand me that clip.”
Samdel looked around on the ground trying to find this ‘clip’.
“You got it?”
“No. What does it look like?”
“Like a clip!” he said impatiently. He held his elongated finger out to point out the bag of ‘clips’ lying on the ground.
“Oh, sorry,” Samdel said, grabbing a clip from the bag, “I’ve never seen a ‘clip’ before.”
“Hmmm…” the twitchy Larstite mumbled as he worked the clip into its place. “Well, I guess a lot of you simple Larstites wouldn’t know what a clip is. It’s not your fault, kid.”
“So, what happened to this star-orb?” Samdel asked, looking down at the shattered glass on the ground.
“It exploded. I must have placed too many explosives in it.” He cursed again.

Samdel walked away, deciding that he did not want to choose the detonator to draw and examine. It seemed very complicated anyway. He remembered the ‘gun’ he had seen earlier. He decided that he would draw and improve the gun.

He went home and set out his new paper and utensils and began to work.  He drew the ‘gun’ as best as he could remember, though when he finished he had to confess it was a crude representation, at best. He was slightly frustrated and his poor attempt; the drawing was not nearly as beautiful as the designer’s sketches.

So, Samdel decided to take his afternoon nap, he was pretty tired as he had woke early for the morning and had not taken the customary morning nap. He fell asleep quickly, the image of the gun in the front of his mind.

He began dreaming about the star-orb he had watched the gun ‘shoot’ and the way it exploded. In his dream, though, the star-orb did not explode when the gun shot it – the gun did. He could see a silhouette of the gun against a bright dancing star and the beautiful colors and the energy of the star was too powerful for the little gun. It became overwhelmed with the dynamic star and exploded.  Then the exploding pieces of the gun began to slow their pace, though they still seemed to be running from the star. Piece by piece, they fell back into the shape of a gun, resuming the silhouette next to the dancing star. The gun tried again to shoot the star, only to explode again itself. This same process cycled a number of times until Samdel woke, sweaty and deeply saddened.

The first orb explosion he had witnessed earlier that day had been the only destruction he had ever experienced. And now he had felt it happen many times to the gun. He almost felt as if he had been the gun in the dream – continually trying to comprehend the star, but instead being destroyed and reinvented by it.

Anxious to place his dream on paper, he began drawing on the back of his first sheet. He started drawing the star, faintly outlining the glass orb, though attempting to show the light as it exceeded its housing. He knew he could not contain real movement on paper, but with all the colors the designer had lent him, he began to color the star with its dance. It was also fairly crude, but it suited to commemorate his dream.

Then, he began to retrace the lines of the gun silhouette, though only lightly. He needed to show how the gun exploded. He did the best he could, showing little shards of silhouetted gun flying across the image of the star.

The whole picture was rough, but Samdel was satisfied with it. He thought about showing it to his parents or sister, but realized that they would not understand. Perhaps even the designer would not understand.

He got up early again the next day and set off to present his work to the designer. He blissfully made the journey, having forgotten the assignment of the designer – to discern the function of the lighting contraption and make improvements. He had rather destroyed what he was supposed to improve.