Houston Has A Problem I Don't Want

 Brian Houston of Hillsong disrepute added to his woes recently by accidentally typing his google search ("ladies and girls kissing") into a Twitter post seen by millions.

Schadenfreude captures a fair bit of the public responses, and Mr. Houston (who does have a problem) did not improve matters by trying to claim (a mere 16 minutes later) on the same Twitter account that it had been hacked. This additional epic fail received the derision it deserved. (Observers gleefully remarked at how he had miraculously recovered control of his hacked account within minutes, when such problems usually take days or even months to resolve.

Mr. Houston has a problem, to be sure. From the looks of it, he has quite a few problems. But enough about him. Let's talk about me.

After I was done enjoying his further decline in the estimation of the world (toward the place of respect he deserves, having brought such disrepute to the name of Jesus), I turned to the awkward question that needed to be asked. What consequences would I face if my worst searches were made globally and publicly visible?

Ouch.

I am thankful that a full listing would show that I've got a pretty good record the vast majority of the time. I'm doing pretty well. Well... compared to some. Some of the time.

But that kind of accounting won't cut it. It only took one moment of typing in the wrong textbox for Mr. Houston to get into the situation he found himself in. Let's be generous (very generous, I'm sure) and assume that was his first and worst internet search on his worst day.

What was my worst search on my worst day? I won't put it here. But it's worse than what Mr. Houston typed. A lot worse.

I don't want Mr. Houston's problem. But I do want to remember it.

It is always preferable to do the right thing for the right reasons. Failing that, a distant second is to do the right thing for less awesome reasons. Distant second, indeed. Jesus delivered strong rebukes to Pharisees who did all the right things (or at least a number of good things) for a lot of really bad reasons.

If I avoid bad internet searches because my heart is in the right place? Perfect. But when my human frailty is winning the day in my heart, perhaps I'll remember that my internet searches are emblazoned across eternity, with nothing hidden–even if, unlike Mr. Houston, I do not have a highly visible Twitter account.

Mr. Houston's problem is mine, too. Our actions are never as invisible as we think. All SHALL be revealed. Some things now. But ALL things, eventually.

Keeping these things in mind might help me to evaluate more truthfully (for oh, how we do love to lie to ourselves) just how innocent and defensible my internet searches are.

Even the worst ones.

Your Best Version Of Me

 (A short poem)

God, please help me to be

Your best version of me.

(I did say it was short.)

They are gentle who need mercy (and know it)

The post header speaks for itself. But that makes for a rather short reflection, so I'll take a moment to answer to the question, "From whence did this thought arise?"

The short answer to the question is this: I can tell I am getting older. I can sense that I am growing weaker. And I am more aware, not uncoincidentally, of my need for mercy.

I once thought quickly. Quicker than most people. Now my sons can see that they think more quickly than I do on many topics. They aren't always respectful in the ways that plays out in our interactions. I find myself thinking, "I need to be more gentle. (Because I wish they'd be more gentle with me. And maybe it's not too late to give my sons a better example.)"

I never had great ears. I've always misunderstood what people are saying. But it's perhaps getting worse. I feel frail when family members are frustrated with my frequent requests to hear them repeat what they think they already said loudly enough.

I once drove with supreme confidence. But in recent months, I have noticed that I am making more driving errors. No accidents, thankfully, but I don't process three thoughts at once so well, anymore. I need to pay more attention on the road. My eyes are not young, anymore. I ruefully recall how many times in my life I have mocked elderly drivers for their caution and crawling pace. Ouch.

I could come up with more examples, but perhaps these suffice.

I've always needed mercy. It's just more obvious to me, now. And the more aware I become of my own need, the more I empathize with those who still need mercy from me—and the more I wish I had learned these traits when I was young, hot-blooded, and thirsty to conquer.

There is only one true conqueror, and his name is Jesus Christ. Lord have mercy. Christ have mercy.

When Risk Isn't Risky (Ukraine Is Safe)

 When I was a young teen, I enjoyed playing a particular board game.

Perhaps you recognize this snippet? Yes, we regularly invaded Ukraine as children. But no matter who won or lost, we were always having fun. It was only a game, after all.

The battle over Ukraine being fought today is anything but fun. It's a human tragedy on a mind-boggling scale. This blog post is not meant in any way to minimize the horrific suffering happening even as I write these words.

So much for the big difference. Pastime vs Panic. Play vs Real.

But there's one thing in common that I thought I would just jot down as a reminder to self and a prayer for the citizens of Ukraine. We who belong to Christ are not citizens of this world.

We played Risk as kids but when the board game was folded up and put away, we found ourselves where we had been the entire time. Safe at home.

So too, today in Ukraine. Not all have this hope. I pray this hope for them. But many in Ukraine belong to God. They are, even as I write this, safe at home. Even as they daily face (and some experience) death.

Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see. ... All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country—a heavenly one...

Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them...

 Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken, let us be thankful, and so worship God acceptably with reverence and awe, for our “God is a consuming fire.”

Excerpted from Hebrews 11, 12

God As IT Support

 I work in IT, and sometimes life as an independent contractor can be rough.

When you work for a company, there are resources. People to meet around the water cooler. This is a big deal, psychologically speaking, when you're up against the unknown--a problem you can describe, sure, but you have NO idea how to solve. Because you don't face it alone.

But when I face these challenges alone, I can get pretty anxious. I've been around the block a few times. You might solve a problem like this in a minute. Or a week later it could still have you dead in the water.

My go-to response in such times, sadly, is to bail on non-necessities. First to go is usually my morning quiet time.

But wait. Fasting by choice is a great practice, but we don't normally give up meals just because of a work hassle. Why should I treat my quiet times with God as any less vital? Jesus said he had food his disciples knew nothing of. When I keep the food and bail on communing with God, I'm proving that I've learned nothing from their gap in understanding.

But I do.

Yesterday morning began Day 3 of The Voodoo Bug, I'll call it. The hour of decision arose as I went about my morning routine in the kitchen. (Getting that essential breakfast and coffee, of course.)

Suddenly, from within me, out of nowhere, an attitude of defiance bubbled up. I still remember that my hand was on the door to the microwave when it happened. "God," I said, "I'm going to have my quiet time today."

"And you're going to solve this problem for me."

Now God doesn't owe me anything, and he ain't my lackey. But the words gushed out in a rash attitude of faith. Which made me suspect that this faith itself had been a gift from God.

After my words stopped echoing around the empty room, I reviewed in my mind what they meant to me. Timeline? None. Just confidence that God would see me through this just fine. It will work out. And well. Meaning, all IT problems eventually get solved... but I felt in my heart that the solution to this one would be a little unusual... a blessing.

I then proceeded to have a quiet time before starting in on work.

Not having a clue how to solve the problem quickly, I had chosen the slower route. A day or two of training. Watching educational videos. Taking notes. Somewhere in the mix, I believed I might find the secret sauce to solving the problem.

By yesterday evening I was only halfway through what we call "Yak Shaving" in IT (you can look it up), and the problem was nowhere near resolved. But the last item on the calendar was a scheduled call with my partner and a contractor we have doing some work for us.

He's bright and knowledgeable in the area where my problem lay. I knew that all along, and I had plans to rope him in eventually, if my slow self-education didn't pan out. So I only mentioned my problem to him in passing at the end of the call. He jumped on it like a dog on a bone. Didn't want to let go. That had not been my plan.

To my credit, I described the problem and my thoughts on what might be going wrong very well. That was as much as I could do. However that was all he needed. He figured out the solution, and had it figured out in about 15 minutes while we gnawed on the issue. He didn't need to go the slower route. By the time I got off the call, my IT problem had been solved.

Now the atheist in the crowd can always offer up another explanation for how the day transpired. What's so miraculous about a knowledgeable person helping you out? Fair enough! And, as per my last reflection, I must be careful in how I describe God's intentions and actions.

But all the same. It was a blessing to be able this morning (I just got off the call) to report to my client that I had a working solution. Not least because today was the scheduled date for me to have it done.

God is good. God is with us. God provides. This IT problem is licked. And my client is happy.

I am thankful.

Knowing God's Plan (The One That's Really Just Your Own)

 I've made my share of mistakes in life. As I read a book aloud to the family at the dinner table (titled "Better Decisions, Fewer Regrets") my mind is drawn like a moth to a flame to some of the more spectacular ones. Most of them didn't mar my life for too long, thank God. But the Condo From Hell (I believe that's the name next to the PIN over at City Hall) kept me in misery for several years. 

It began as 3-man partnership.

The subcontractor did shoddy work and had ADHD.

(This turned out to matter.)

The general contractor had zero (0) experience in renovation project management.

(This turned out to matter.)

I provided the money, but I had zero (0) experience in real estate investment.

(This turned out to matter.)

I started this blog some 13 years ago while I was trying to escape Condo From Hell. It still hurts to read those old posts. I lost about $150,000 on a $70,000 investment. That takes talent.

I did pray over those plans, and they seemed like good ones. Going in. In hindsight, God's take on my adventures probably involved a lot wincing (on his part). Certainly a lot of wincing on my part. Anyway, the disparity between how I saw matters going in verses how I view them in my rear view mirror is startling.

That all came to mind as I read an old letter my mother wrote in 1971. I've heard this story a few times over the years. When I was a toddler my dad went into business with several other guys with a plan to do something... something...  yeah... something cool that will be awesome for the kingdom of God.

(Lack of specificity. Warning sign #1.)

Purchasing 100 (yes, one hundred) acres of land with such poor planning is a fool's errand, and my parents were poor.

(A high-stakes bet made by poor folk. Warning sign #2.)

The general contractor, I'll call him, turned out to be an incompetent, and not terribly godly, man.

(Poor judgement of character. Warning sign #3.)

All the warning signs were there. And yes, all the plans came to naught. in the early 80s, my parents finally escaped the partnership after a legal battle. All the land they had bought? It was eventually sold about ten years later, still virgin and utterly undeveloped. 

But spot the difference. The land they purchased just happened to be on the slopes of Mauna Loa, in Hawaii (where we lived at the time, believe it or not). Over the next 10 years, that land went up in value. By orders of magnitude. (And continued to do so after they sold it!) When the dust had settled, My parents came out much wealthier than they went in.

The mysteries of God. The folly? Well, my parents and I had that in common. The financial harvest we reaped? Couldn't have been more different.

But what's interesting to me now (and instructive) is to read now how my mother wrote of it in 1971.

With several other Christian men in the city, we bought 100 acres about twenty miles from town. We are in love with it... So the Lord has provided "abundantly." The four men involved in the group are leaving the back, more forested 50 acres open for whatever the Lord may lead its use to be. Whether a campground or orphan home or half-way house, He'll show us when we need to know. Last week He again showed His leading...

My mother was a very godly woman. And very much mistaken.

How often we Christians use words like these. When we apply them to the past, it usually sounds fine. We share at the church meeting our gratitude at how God provided for us. But is what we're saying true?

I pose that as a question not because I doubt God's goodness, but rather because, when we're peering forward into an uncertain future, our efforts to describe God's goodness and God's leading are, to state matters charitably, often rather ham-fisted.

God all too often turns out not to be on the same page that our glowing assessment has him pinned to. God was not leading my parents to build an orphanage. They made a lot of money on that land, Yes. But No, no Christian organization ever set foot on it. You wouldn't know that, to hear my mother's telling of the story in 1971. This is not to fault my mother. I've been there, said that, and lived to see how wrong I was.

The takeaway. If the past has anything to teach us, it's that we are not good at predicting the future. Our own plans fall apart, and we at least knew those plans going in. How much more foolish to think we know what is coming, when we are not privvy to the details of God's plans.

Better that we stick to what we know: God is good. God is with us. God provides. Looking back over my life, I can truthfully say to my children that God has been with me and has provided for me. I can assure them that God will be with them, too.

But specifics? Those are above my pay grade.

You asked, ‘Who is this that obscures my plans without knowledge?’

Surely I spoke of things I did not understand,
things too wonderful for me to know. (Job 42:3)

Asperger Folk In The Bible

This reflection assumes the world and proves nothing. With that preface as spoiler alert, I'll move on.

I am on the Asperger's spectrum. My brother was off the deep end Asperger's (frantic hand-waving) as a child, so with that clear diagnosis of a sibling in hand (in waving hand, that is) and some obvious traits of my own, safe to say... Yeah. I'm there.

People are not always kind to me about it. And, perhaps unsurprisingly, what worries me more is how many people are being kind. I hate it when I'm being annoying and don't even know it.

Anyway. I see patterns. I see patterns that aren't there (always a problem) but I also see ones that are there. I run with details. And once I'm on a topic I'm passionate about, I just don't know when to stop.

These are strengths and weaknesses.

Where I'm going with this is to simply note with some bemusement that Asperger's folk do seem well represented in the pantheon of biblical writers. Meaning, many of those writers are celebrated for the very things that can get me in trouble. Refusing to move on, finding patterns, and deep-diving on details.

Seriously.

A few examples?

The prophets. I mean, in this day and age, you might say nothing at all. A lot of people leave their church for a real reason which they don't bother to share. Or maybe they explain their reason, and then leave. But pity the souls who don't leave, have a problem with their church, and they just won't shut up about it. Well, those folk aren't thought of as playing with a full deck. I know, I know. Where was Isaiah to go? Hitch the next ride to Assyria? Even so, as I read their rants, I have to say. These guys were kinda Asperger's-y. And we revere them today.

The Psalmists. Anybody read Psalm 119 recently? The dude is obsessed. With God's word. He finds dozens and dozens of ways to say the same thing. And we love it. (Some of us.) We study it. We sing it. ("Thy word is a lamp unto my feet...") Today someone who wrote something like this would get the askance glance.

The author of Hebrews. This guy (or, in a conspiratorial voice, perhaps gal) sees patterns everywhere. And a lot of those patterns are arguably not there. I mean, seriously. Levi offering the tithe to Melchizedek through his ancestor?? Let's be honest. Hebrews is awesome. But it's a dense read full of weird pattern-finding. If Hebrews had not been written, and your neighbor started scribbling this stuff on toilet paper. Would you accept it?

By the way, that bit about seeing connections? My mind just went to Yesterday, a movie in which Beatles songs were not written. Happily, the songs in the movie were well-received by screaming fans, even though sung poorly by a nobody, but we digress, and that's the problem with people like me. We digress. I remember this one time... oh. Sorry, again.)

Right. How about Matthew and the other gospel writers. I mention Matthew in particular because, to my unending delight, the new show The Chosen has chosen to depict him as deep OCD. Love it. I connect with Matthew big-time.

Anyway. Gospel writers. Patterns galore, laid in there, just waiting for you to find them. To say these guys were detail-oriented is to suggest that, oh, sorry. You don't want another analogy? I have several here? No? Ok. So they were detail-oriented, at any rate. Things like Matthew having Jesus be the true Israel, crossing the Jordan, re-enacting the 40 years (as 40 days), but this time not screwing up... We could go on. And on. And on. And boy, that would suit my personality to do just that. But suffice it to say. These guys were connecting the dots and finding patterns faster than John Nash in A Beautiful Mind and also like... oh, never mind.

All that to say, Asperger's folk like me? We're a bit like (wait for it, here comes another) Cassandra. Doomed to speak the truth, and, thanks to our way of delivering it, doomed also to be widely ignored or ridiculed for our fixated attention to patterns, connections, details and truth.

I'll be waiting for this lonely reflection to be ignored. In fairness, though... when that happens, in this particular case the world won't have lost out on much.

But I enjoyed writing this, all the same.

PS - did you notice the sentence that managed to use the word "chosen" twice, once in a title and once not? Did you notice I repeated the exact same feat with "mind"? This is the stuff you'll find in Bible commentaries. Some bushy-bearded guy will catch what everyone missed and y'all be like, whoa, that was cool. But mostly it gets missed. But we Asperger's folk lay it in there all the same. Just for fun.

Because we like patterns.