This Post Has Been Rated PG, for Strong Language

I’ve never been a fan of the trend to celebrate “bitchiness.” You know, those girls/women who proudly display shirts saying, "drama queen" or "the rumors are true" or whatever...some statement which claims pride in what should be considered a fault? When I hear those messages, I think, “Thanks for the warning” and steer clear.

But, apparently, there ARE times being labeled with rudeness is a compliment. For instance, if the person labeling you doesn't seek your good, has no interest in getting to know you, and simply wants to inflict as much emotional damage on you as possible, (in the fewest number of words) then you can proudly accept their name-calling with the understanding they don't know any other way to express themselves.

Yes, I was called a bitch this week. Not only that, another person in a totally separate situation questioned my intelligence, my reading/writing skills, and my abilities as a teacher all in the same post. Actually, “questioned” isn’t the correct word. As I’ve said, fair and genuine questions are no problem for me—actually they excite me. But mean-spirited accusations are another story entirely.

Okay, so you may remember my somewhat-recent post about the importance of fathers: For Almost Every Problem, the Solution is “Daddy.” In it, I referenced an encounter with a 14-year-old girl on YouTube, who had convinced a small group of people that my dad—a stand-up comic—was hers. You may further recall that I stepped in to clear up the confusion by insisting I was one of only four Branyan children, and I jokingly asked if she was joining the family officially by attending Thanksgiving dinner. What I DIDN’T mention in the post was that the girl responded with “LOL, totally see you there!”—a gesture I took as a good-natured acknowledgement of “you caught me,” and the conversation was over with no perceived ill feelings…

Until I got an email from YouTube services telling me another stranger had stepped into the discussion. This one said: “Onlyuntakenusername: your channel says your name is Luke. So, yeah. You’re a liar.”

(sigh) As someone who prides herself on truthfulness, this was difficult to ignore. And, as somebody who doesn’t appreciate when people say things over the internet they would NEVER say to a person’s face (like, perhaps, name-calling in the very first sentence), I struggled to figure out how to respond. Mostly, I was trying to decide which proof of identity to offer, out of 23-years-worth, to show my name is Amanda and my dad is a comedian named John Branyan. But, also, I wanted to point out how completely stupid it would be for me to LIE about that during the process of flagging someone else for making the same claim.

So, I said, “Blast! You’ve found me out. I’m a young male posing as someone named Amanda while simultaneously accusing someone else of the same offense. OR, I don’t have a YouTube account, and my husband’s name is Luke. I guess we’ll never know. BUT, if you’re still concerned, you can “like” John’s page on Facebook and flip through his photos for one that depicts both me AND Luke. Actually, you should “like” John’s page either way.”

Snarky? A little. But I tried to lighten the mood with a shameless plug for my dad at the end. And notice, I STILL didn’t call her any names, though she accosted me with a badly researched personal criticism and therefore...as my kids say...she started it. I didn’t even call the 14-year-old a “liar” when I had absolute proof of the fact--namely that my mother hadn't given birth to her. Nor did I defame the young girl in the blog post I wrote afterward, though she never would have known if I had. But this second person felt justified in branding me with what I consider a serious offense?...Bad form.

I firmly believe there is no reason to start bitter rivalries with people on the internet, using words or techniques you’d never say in person. Call it a pet peeve (though, I’d call it common courtesy). But, if you are the type who throws virtual mud, prepare to have your foolishness exposed. And, beware, my sarcasm probably will appeal to you even less than realizing you were incorrect about something.

Now, some people, when bested, actually take a step back and think, “Yes, it was dumb of me to jump to conclusions,” and thus, respond with humble concession. My new friend did not do this. So, she must have playfully raised the white flag, the way the first girl did when she said she WOULD see me at Thanksgiving? No, she didn’t do that, either. Girl #2 said:

“Onlyuntakenusername: Ooh, somone got defensive... I'm sorry, did I hurt the poor wittle girls feewings? Take some midol, it helps with the PMS, bitch.”

Classy, huh? And of course fair, relevent, and all the other things I love about the expansive, anonymous internet. At least I convinced her I’m a girl, right? This basically concludes that particular example of my rough week. But, to hear about my extremism and how I’m an ignorant, immature, faith-shoving, poorly-educated teacher who keeps a god-forsaken blog, you can check out the comments in Risen from Apes, Teaching Little Apes, and especially, If You’re Too Open-Minded, Your Brains Will Pop Out.

And, now you know why last night I was feeling perturbed and pondering the obvious lack of self-control observed by too many angry computer surfers. (For Heaven’s sake, name-calling in the comment section of a post dedicated to the fact that I have no respect for name-callers?...) Anyway, that's when I stumbled upon one of the best things Blogger has to offer: Ray Comfort.

I have no idea how a blog which regularly gets 400 or 500 comments has yet to be featured as a Blog of Note, but it’s a great resource for people interested in civil back-and-forth. Right at the top of the page, Comfort states he won’t tolerate swear words or incivility, and he regularly posts videos, quotes, and anecdotes to inspire discussion. It’s exactly the kind of blog I'd want to keep, if I were as dedicated and thoughtful as Mr. Comfort AND if my original intent for this blog were to write about apologetics. Believe it or not, I once set out writing for those who already believe and wish to become more like Christ through hands-on service, sacrificing their own desires if necessary. (The whole “ask Amanda pseudo-questions and then criticize her answers as if she is gluing my eyes to the screen and forcing me to read" thing has been sort of a recent development…)

But, Ray Comfort created his blog for the very purpose of chatting with people who think differently, so his posts are more theology-specific than my own part-diary, part-half-baked-thoughts section of the cyber world. Get this—Comfort has offered Richard Dawkins $20,000 to appear for a debate, but Dawkins won’t do it. Yeah, he's that confident... (Which probably means he's immature, faith-shoving, and poorly educated, too.)

Okay, this post is growing long. But I’m getting to the point, I promise. It’s your fault, readers, because my blog statistics say I get more hits the wordier I am—which goes against EVERYTHING one learns in a “writing for the internet” class. I’m just warning you. You keep reading my endless thoughts, so you keep getting them. Anyway, Ray Comfort starts every one of his posts with an actual quote from one of his critics. The one from Monday, March 28th, in fact, features a kindly individual who declares Comfort to be “infantile,” which is very, very close to my own lofty title, “immature.” So, my favorite thing about his blog is it's a place I realize I don't have to take it personally. Other generally nice people get chewed out when they say something unpopular, just like me!

Now, this is a good and bad thing. The good news is, I can go laugh at the ludicrously negative, hateful, hurtful things people have said to Ray Comfort when I’m receiving mean comments myself. But, it’s bad because it proves that laying your heart on the line is hard, and the general response probably won't get better.

My dad wrote to me several weeks back, saying he was proud of my attempts to put the truth on the internet—and proud of my candidness in all areas. But he was afraid I was going to get hurt. I told him, “I already have been hurt. And odds are good it will happen again.” How’s that for truth and candidness? For all my confidence, for all the long tirades, for all the sarcasm and tongue-and-cheek statements I make, I’m still flesh and bone. You'll have a tough time proving I’m a liar or disproving God's existence, but don't be surprised if you're able to injure me. Random, totally unfounded and unfair comments are not filtered through cyberspace and landing in front of a faceless individual. I'm human.

So, this week’s lesson in selflessness? Taking it in stride. No, I won’t buy an "I'm a Bitch" T-shirt. And I’m not sure if I can handle the antagonism as well as Ray Comfort seems to—letting it roll off his back until he finds someone who actually wants to talk. (Even someone willing to talk in exchange for $20,000!) But, I will press on with what I believe to be a God-given mission to challenge people, even if this makes them uncomfortable to the point of lashing out like a cornered animal.

The thing I love about Ray Comfort is that he genuinely enjoys talking with people who seek the truth. Oh, he teases, calls out, and downright denounces those who just want to argue. But he speaks in love with people whose only "fault" is being unsure of their beliefs. He doesn't see atheists as the enemy. He wants to help them find answers, if they're truly asking for them.

This is something we have in common because--and I mean this seriously--I love atheists. I have a real burden for anyone trying to accept the message that life is meaningless and there is no hope after we die. And that's why I write. That's why, even when someone actively tries to "get a rise out of me," I’ll continue writing only things which I would SAY in person, and only things which I am prepared to defend honestly and fairly. I will not purposely injure another--because I have no reason to fight with any of God's children. And finally, though many have labeled it arrogance, I write with bold, insistent confidence because I have a wonderful relationship with my Heavenly Father, and I crave that experience for others. The worst that could happen to me, should I continue to keep this blog, is for cowardly strangers to continue picking apart my character. The worst that could happen to someone who doesn't answer the tough questions is they go to Hell. I'm not willing to place my feelings above another person's salvation.

And so I write on.

CANI Get Free Money, Please?

We are very busy around here this week, painting walls, assembling wee-furniture, and organizing piles of stuff in preparation for the arrival of McBaby approximately 4 weeks from now. But, since Luke ran to the store for some more tape and another screw to replace the one for the crib we lost, I have a couple minutes to share the reading/thinking I've been doing lately.

Here's an article about the correlation between the reality show Supernanny and the attitude of entitlement among Americans today: the Supernanny State. If you read it, pay special attention to the quote by Thoreau at the end...

His words, like the entire article, make us consider the difference between helping people and enabling them.

It will appear I'm switching gears with this next link to an article on Credit Card Reform, but I'll try to bring it full circle. The lady featured, a Democrat, wants to pass legislation to reduce the "fine print" involved with credit card and loan applications in order to simplify the process for consumers. She argues that competition can thrive only if we understand what the various contracts say in the first place, in order to make the most informed decision possible.

Now, generally, I don't have a problem with this idea, even though I haven't heard from the opposition, yet. (It's possible there is more to the bill than "simplifying"--which keeps the Republicans from jumping on board. I'm interested in reading a Conservative's perspective on the issue before I support the legilsation.) However, at first blow, I like what this lady has to say. Who could be against straight-forward language to help us make better decisions, right?

But, I'm afraid this legislation only will help people like me make decisions more quickly--but won't actually reduce the occurrence of loan default or home foreclosure. I believe there is more to the financial crisis in America than simple "ignorance" or "misunderstanding" of the fine print. And I think CANI provides a pretty good example.

What's CANI?

CANI stands for Childcare Alliance of Northern Indiana, and it helps low-income families (almost always single mothers) cover the cost of daycare services. A percentage of the students in my classroom are able to attend thanks to financial assistance from CANI.

In exchange for filling out government paperwork, making a few phone calls, and proving they need help, mothers receive a plastic card, which they are supposed to swipe upon dropping off their child and picking him up from the daycare center. The electronic machine on the receptionist's desk functions like an old fashioned time clock, by keeping track of the number of hours the student spends in childcare. Then, the information is sent to the internet, where a representative of the provider (for instance, me) can make sure everything was recorded properly. Assuming all works properly, CANI will pay the provider of services (the daycare) directly for the amount of time recorded by the electronic time clock.

However, not all works properly every time. Sometimes parents are running late and forget to swipe the card. Sometimes, parents simply don't feel like doing it. Whatever the case, the time clock allows parents to correct errors and "catch up" their records up to 14 days after missing a sign-in or sign-out. But, this handy function only helps those who are...how do I say this?...reliable.

Rather than speaking in hypotheticals, let me just describe for you exactly what my job became--as the teacher--not too many weeks back. No, I wasn't spending hours creating lesson plans and teaching kids to read. Eventually, I found myself spending HOURS trying to "help" parents fulfill their card-swiping responsibilities, just so our daycare center could get reimbursed for our services.

Every Monday morning, I would look at the online records to discover that--look!--five or so children were not signed in/out AT ALL last week. Our records showed they came to school every day, but the CANI records showed they didn't attend at all. If left as it was, we wouldn't receive a dime for those services... So, I would write down every single date for which I saw a discrepancy, and give it to the parent in the form of a letter.

Dear ______,

Your child was not signed in/out for the following days, March 12-16. Please use your CANI card and adjust the records the next time you are in the building. We do not receive payment for services unless this is done properly.

Thanks.

So, parents would catch up the records for all five students by the next day.

HA! Just kidding!

Usually, the parents would corner me the next day (or several days later) and say, "I don't remember what time I brought him in or picked him up on those days. Could you remind me?" And, being a helpful individual, Miss Amanda would spend another hour or two writing another group of letters. This time, with the daycare records in front of me, I would compose something like this:

Dear _____,

Our records show your child was here the following days/times last week:

3/12/11 In at 8:30am, out at 4:30pm

3/13/11 In at 9:00am, out at 5:00pm

3/14/11 In at 8:30 am, out at 5:00pm

3/15/11 In at 8:00am, out at 2:00pm

3/16/11 In at 8:00am, out at 5:00pm

Please adjust these days/times with your CANI card as soon as possible.

Thanks.

I would write personalized reminder letters like this for all students with discrepancies. And I used very plain, straight-forward language, as you may have noticed... So, of course--now knowing what was expected of them--the parents would jump into action and fix the errors...

Except for the ones who lost their letters. (Eventually, I began photocopying all the letters I wrote each week, so I could keep the originals and make MORE copies when parents "couldn't find" the first one.) Also, there were times parents would take the line "as soon as possible" very liberally, and their "first opportunity" to swipe their cards would come AFTER the 14 day period offered by CANI for such corrections...

So, what does the daycare provider do then? CANI required my boss to fill out "discrepancy worksheets" for any days/times we provided services, but for which the parent never swiped their cards. Each day required a seperate form. So, there were times my boss filled out 10-12 worksheets to send to the CANI headquarters. And THEN they may be returned to her with a note that said, "You missed box 2" or "You used blue ink instead of black." (No, I'm not making this up! This is a government agency, remember?)

So, let's recap: an agency called CANI--in cooperation with the daycare I work for--agreed to offer financial help to deserving mothers, trying to feed their families or go to school or whatever. These women just need someone in their corner! So, help was provided in exchange for swiping a credit card twice a day. Unfortunately, when this became too tedious, parents simply neglected to swipe the card, andthe job of jumping through hoops and hunting down our money fell to teachers like me and to directors like my boss...

Needless to say, Miss Amanda became fed up. So, she spoke with her boss and said, "Enough."

I suggested we start a new policy, for which I was willing to write precisely one letter a week--one which I could photocopy five or so times and which required zero personalization. And, it ended up reading something like this:

Dear _______,

Today is Thursday. Your child's CANI card has not been swiped at all this week. You have until tomorrow (Friday) at closing time to fix the errors, or we will be forced to charge you personally for the time your child was here.

Thanks!

Now, I was a little less abrupt than that. And, my boss and I explained to each parent, face-to-face, why we needed to change policies. We told them, nicely, that we couldn't continue losing money and spending so much time dealing with paper work, so we were looking for a better way to keep parents accountable. And, for a few weeks, the threat of being charged personally ensured that EVERY child was signed in/out consistently!

Until...

I suppose it was bound to happen, but eventually, a couple of mothers decided to test our sincerity. Monday morning rolled around, and I discovered that the records of two students had NOT been adjusted before we closed on Friday. So, I told my boss about it.

I'd love to say she issued swift discipline, but--actually--I don't know the rest of the story. She mentioned calling the offending parents, and I'm not sure what happened after that. But, I don’t think they were charged. There are many sweet-natured people in the world who have a hard time assigning consequences, even after a story like the one I just told. So, it wouldn't totally surprise me if those mothers continue to receive chance after chance, all in the name of compassion and good will.

So, I ask you, Readers, as I look out the window expecting to see my husband pull into the driveway at any moment, what IS the root of "neediness" in our country, which Thoreau encourages us to attack?

Parents want to raise respectful, selfless children, but many of them, as the Supernanny article points out, would rather be "nice" to them than to discipline. Similarly, there are many people—like the lady in the second article—who are concerned with American debt the state of the housing market/credit card industries. Yet, we continue to bail out those who sign contracts they can't keep. And, though the fine print has complicated things, there remains people like me who pay their bills regardless and who only scold themselves if they signed a contract they didn't understand... Simply neglecting to pay isn't an option for a responsible person. Instead of giving me hope for a debt-free America, I believe a “reformed credit card system” only will help those who already intend to do honest business in the first place. But I fear even very plain, straight-forward language won't prevent irresponsible people from being irresponsible...

So, what should be our response, as individuals AND as a country, when people fail to uphold their end of a bargain? How far should we "nice" people go to "help" those who are in need?

And at what point does helping become enabling?

The Letter

Somebody falls through space and crash lands in the middle of an open field.

There, a group of hundreds—no, thousands—are wearing black tunics and most of them are in a line, following a man dressed in white. He leads them in single-file as he hops over logs, spins around rocks, and waves his arms in various ways. Almost everyone copies his moves…

Though his motions seem absurd, the man in white seems sure of himself. So, Somebody approaches.

“Where am I? What am I doing here?”

"Well, you’re asking the right questions, for starters,” the man in white answers. “What are thousands of people doing in this random, open field? And what are we supposed to do now?”

“And…what are the answers?” Somebody asks.

“That’s easy. The same thing is required of all men everywhere. We must hop over every log, spin around every rock, and wave our arms whenever the wind blows.” With that announcement, the man continues to lead his line through the field.

Somebody, however, has more questions.

“Why?”

“Because those are the rules for the field. That’s what the property owner established. Understand?”

“But, hopping over logs and spinning around rocks is….crazy!” Somebody says.

“Not only that. It’s impossible,” says the man, matter-of-fact. “Nobody can hop over every, single log. Let alone spin around every, single rock. And, already, the wind has blown twice since you got here—and you didn’t even wiggle your fingers.”

“If it’s impossible, then what’s the point? There’s no reason to do it at all!” Somebody says, narrowly avoiding being struck by the arm of a woman in black, flapping wildly as a leaf stirred nearby.

“Oh there’s a VERY good reason,” the man in white says gravely. “That reason is: log-hopping and rock-spinning and arm-waving is how we get out of here alive. It’s why you have been brought here. Plus, if you don’t, you’re breaking the rules. There are consequences for that, you know.”

“Let me guess. If you break the rules, you have to stand on your head every time you spot a cloud?”

“Mock if you want,” the man says. “In fact, you may even join the others who’ve given up. They’re sitting over there.” The man points to a row of benches, where a group of people in black tunics is observing, unimpressed. “But, I’m warning you, they’re going to be killed.” The man in white starts walking again.

“Wait, wait, wait. Killed? Who is going to kill them?”

“Well, you might say they’re killing themselves right now, wouldn’t you? Since they’ve chosen to take a seat rather than follow the rules.”

The wind blows…and Somebody feels a small urge to wave his arms along with the rest of the line. Instead, he asks:

“Where in the world did you get your information?”

“I read it in the Letter!” the man exclaims, glad finally to be getting to the bottom of the issue. “The Letter was written by the first line-leaders, who met the field owner personally. It outlines the rules exactly as he meant them to be applied.”

The man withdraws a bundle of dirty parchment paper, tied with a cord and creased from years of use.

“Uh…that thing looks pretty old,” Somebody says. "How long has it been since the field owner left that letter?”

“Over 2000 years,” answers the man, and he leads the line to a log. A short person in the middle snags his toe and trips, causing a small chain reaction involving 15 or 20 of the others. The man in white watches sadly. “If only they understood...the OTHER way,” he says quietly to himself.

“So, let me get this straight,” Somebody says. "You’re hopping and skipping and waving around in a field because some 2,000-year-old piece of parchment tells you to?”

“No, actually. I'm not obligated to perform this circus act anymore. I’m hopping and skipping and waving because I want to please the field owner. He’s the one who lets me wear white, you know.”

“But, how do you know the field owner wants this?”

“I already told you,” the man says, in exasperation. “It says so in the Letter.” And then a huge smile spreads across his face. “Would you like to read it?”

Somebody notices a rock to his left and has a difficult time passing it by without spinning.

“That’s ridiculous,” Somebody says. “You don't know it was written by the one responsible for my arrival here. Why should I read it if I don't believe it? Anyway, I know it says to hop and spin. And I'm not too sure I like that part.”

The man’s face falls. “I had hoped you’d be different. Thought perhaps you’d want to know what it said first-hand…. Well, you might as well get in line, then,” he says sadly.

“What do you mean?" Somebody asks. You think I should hop and spin anyway? Even though I don’t believe there are any consequences?”

“It’s your only choice, really. Unless you want to sit on the bench…” the man says. “But, most people don’t go that route. It’s very hard to sit over there and pretend nothing is happening, especially when something inside makes people want to hop and wave. So, most people choose to get in line and do what they know is expected, even when they don’t know the reason.”

“So…these people haven’t read the Letter, either?”

The man shakes his head. “When they accept what’s in the Letter, they will be given white, too. That’s when a person becomes a line leader.” He pauses to help up a woman, who waved her arms so hard she fell over. “But, these people are just imitators. They imitate me and imitate each other—copying only pieces of the Letter and never discovering the best parts for themselves. They don’t even realize that hopping and skipping aren’t REALLY why we’re here. And, worst of all, they don’t know they’re going to die like those on the bench.”

“They’re going to die, too?!” Somebody asks in horror. “What kind of place is this? And why should I subscribe to the insanity?!”

“It’s all in the Letter,” the man states.

“You’re awfully obsessed with that letter,” Somebody accuses, a little frightened by all the death-talk, but mostly angry at the situation in which he has found himself. (He never asked to be dumped in a field, with absolutely no instructions.) “You expect me to believe some farmer, centuries ago, put this field here and wrote a letter telling everyone who crash-landed all about the ‘rules’—which, by the way, are impossible to follow? And, if that’s not enough, those who have given up entirely and those trying their best to follow the supposed rules are ALL going to die in the end?”

“You have understood my words well,” says the man. “In fact, that’s one of the best summaries I’ve heard in a long time…but, don’t forget, there is more to the Letter. The ending is the best part, in fact! Here, take it and read!”

“No, thanks,” Somebody says, jumping into the back of the line. (After all, Somebody feels that hopping and waving are good things and wants to be a good person. But, there's no reason to buy the letter business.)

“I simply don’t believe it’s true...”

And, a few minutes later, the wind blows…

This is just a teaser before my post on biblical apologetics (“How to Know the Bible is God’s Word.”) I probably will refer back to this story as an example, when giving reasons to believe the Field Owner, first of all, would have left a letter of instruction, AND that the Bible is it. The Letter is historically accurate, scientifically sound, internally consistent, and a host of other things a reliable, un-forged letter should be…

But, it's difficult to defend a piece of parchment which nobody has read in the first place... Will we be people who continue hopping logs and waving our arms because it feels right? Or will we test the word of the line-leaders by reading the Letter with which they are so obsessed?

We Want "Change"--But We Don't Want "Different"

Netflix's instant watch feature now offers old episodes of the TLC show "17 Kids and Counting," and....I watched the entire first season. Yes, I fell trap to the addiction, granted more than a couple years behind the rest of the country.

For those even further out of the loop than I, the show follows a smalltown, Christian family who have 17 biological children. Actually, I believe they have 19 now--but there were only 17 during the first season, when the mom, Michelle, announced she was pregnant again.

Overall, I found it very refreshing to watch a family working together, getting along, and making the most out of their lives.

Since the Duggar Parents were closely involved with the show's production, the family was portrayed in a good light for the most part. All of the Duggars recognize their uniqueness, but TLC never seemed to insinuate their lifestyle choice was bad.

Not like this person.

"The premiere episode of “17 Kids and Counting” tracked the Duggars’ “Today” trip to New York. While the family toured the city, the producers of the TLC series prompted the children to deliver their streaming impressions, and the results are very “Green Acres.” They cannot get over all the hustle and mayhem. “In Central Park there’s actually children there,” one of the boys says. “The rest of the city I didn’t see too many children, but Central Park there was a lot of kids.”

Jim Bob brought his prejudices with him, believing you can only hail a taxi if you’re waving money in your hand. Another boy is entranced by the large screens in Times Square even though some of the ads are “raunchy.” The Duggar children are not allowed to watch cable television, only obliged to appear on it."

I'll pause here for a moment, since I saw this episode. (I saw all of them.) The only prejudice involved belongs to the author of this article, who assumes a smalltown man has prejudices about the city. Jim Bob and his oldest son both tried hailing a cab for several minutes with no luck before Dad finally pulled out a wad of cash and convinced a driver to stop.

Also, just in case anyone hasn't noticed, some of the ads in Time Square are raunchy. The kid was right.

Continuing...

"A call to parenthood that would cause 99.9 percent of American couples to sneak out in the middle of the night and leave their children with a lifetime supply of juice boxes does not even appear to overwhelm the Duggars, and that has the effect of making them seem denial-prone or indifferent, even as they are shown to be paying considerable attention to the small nation state they oversee.

The Duggars home-school their children and create whole domains of responsibility rather than simply doling out chores. The laundry room, as Michelle puts it, “currently that’s Jinger’s jurisdiction.” Michelle never seems to raise her voice or even grow tense. Jim Bob manages to keep his hair perfectly combed. This is all quite mesmerizing, as if a 300-pound person suddenly landed in an ice rink during a figure skating event and performed a quadruple axel without incident."

See the article for the absurd conclusion about what close-knit family life portrayed on television supposedly does to the audience.... (Spoiler: The show "exploits divisions" among viewers.)

Obviously, I take offense over the tone this reviewer adopts. But I'm even more concerned by the fact that controversy and division HAS developed around the show, for reasons I truly cannot understand. Here is a short list of criticisms I've found from various bloggers, tweeters, and commenters. (Incluing this blog dedicated solely to commenting on the family: duggarswithoutpity.blogspot.com)

-The Duggars are exploiting their children, using the "TLC gravy train" to support them.

-They don't believe in dancing. (Weird!)

-Their children expect to find future mates through courtship (Weird!)

-They don't watch TV and have limited access to the internet (Weird!)

So, it's America's business that the Duggar's are weird?

I could defend each individual criticism of this family, but I don't think I'll waste the time. Instead, I'll admit all the controversy kind of makes me want to follow suit and do away with my TV. When paternity tests and out-of-control kids are the norm on daytime television, and Oprah and Dr. Phil make their money giving theory-based advice to moms at the end of their rope, but a family actually MAKING IT is torn down, I'm not sure I can continue to watch...

Personally, I believe kids should be aware of "raunchy" stuff and then be given good reasons not to participate in it--rather than made to believe evil doesn't exist at all. (After all, how can we expect to combat immorality if we don't even know this particular enemy is lurking.) Growing up, I was given straight answers for any questions I had as well as access to the internet, TV, books, articles, movies, and whatever else so I could learn to answer questions about WHY Mom and Dad believed what they believed. Oh, and we danced.

But, I would like to point out that today's parents are terrified their kids are going to get pregnant/get someone else pregnant. They've heard the entertainment industry can convince young minds of anything (that is, if a cartoon character on a package of cigarettes doesn't). Parents are confronted with statistics about violence in song lyrics, video games, movies, etc. And, even if their kids don't do drugs or bring a gun to school, parents have bought the idea that all kids will get into trouble. It's just what they do. The best WE can do is hand them condoms and set up internet monitoring so we can be aware when they're misbehaving. And, over coffee with friends, we can cluck our tongues and lament, "something has to be done about our youth."

But, then, why do we criticize the Duggars for their abnormal children? The Duggar kids are not sexually active, nor are they violent. They aren't disrespectful, like a normal teenager. They aren't rebellious and impossible, like "normal" kids.

Meanwhile, the parents are self-supporting--raising all of their kids with their own money. (And they were doing this BEFORE the "TLC gravy train" pulled into the station.) And they've developed a way to divide responsibilities which makes their household run like clockwork in a manner the "Desperate Housewives" can't fathom. In fact, I find it interesting that the author of the above article compared the Duggar's to a nation-state... but was NOT suggesting we could learn something about fiscal AND personal responsibility from this debt-free, neighbor-loving group. Instead, the writer only obsesses over their strangeness...

I agree, the Duggar's are weird. But, in a fallen, depraved world which causes many to step back in alarm and demand "change," why is that a bad thing?

BRAZEN ACT OF SELFISHNESS ALERT

Normally, when I talk about specific acts of selfishness, I try to hang out my OWN dirty laundry. (Or, that of my husband, with permission of course.) :)

All of us have bad days. Each of us is self-serving at times--downright rude at others. And I do enough uncalled-for, me-focused things to keep this part of cyberspace hopping--so I don't share "Jerk Alert" stories very often.

BUT, JERK ALERT AT APPLEBEE'S LAST NIGHT!

Seriously, I want to post the story because I'm still so baffled by the rudeness I witnessed. I literally was blown away by this guy's conduct.

When we first got seated, two young girls (maybe late teenage years?) came to the table, clearly ready to pitch us their fundraiser opportunity. I admit, my first reaction was an internal "Aw, crap" because I don't like having to say "no." But with all the kids asking for money for various trips, we often have to...

Fortunately, this one was easy. We'd happened into the restaurant during a day Applebee's agreed to donate 15% of every bill to a student ambassador's trip to Japan, provided the customer presented a coupon to the server. So, the teenage girls gave us the coupon, told us all we had to do was pay our bill, and thanked us. No problem.

We continued looking at the menu and chatting with our friend--barely paying attention to the girls as they visited a table across from us, which seated a young boy, woman, and a man. But, we couldn't HELP but notice when one of the girls said, "Hi, I'm going on a trip--" and was cut off by the man with a loud, sarcastic:

"Oh, you're going on a trip? How nice. We're here to eat. Thanks." Then he turned his back to them.

What the heck?! I mean, I know people are sensitive about being solicited in general, but was that his ONLY option? He couldn't hear them out and discover--like we did--that they weren't actually selling anything? Luke and I exchanged astonished glances and forgot where our own conversation had been going because we'd never seen such an overtly-self-interested scene in public before.

I honestly would say it disturbed me, mostly because I can't even figure out this guy's motives. It seems to me he snapped--but why?!

And what did he have to lose?... He couldn't even let the girls finish their sentence before politely declining the offer? Naturally, we watched that table the rest of the night with curiosity, and I just kept wondering: what causes people to react that way? If he had considered the pros and cons of other options, would he still have chosen to place his own meal (which, by the way, hadn't even arrived from the kitchen, yet) at a higher level of importance than another human--making a scene and embarrassing two girls, for....whatever reason?

Oh, if I can do one thing with my life, I want to help people THINK. But usually, stories like the above just cause ME to do the thinking--often being left with no explanation for the extent of human selfishness in the world.

Emotions Are Not All Bad?! (Or, The Role of Faith)

To be fair, I've never said emotions are bad. I made the argument that--when handling serious questions or searching for Truth--they tend to get in the way. They cause the conversation to move from civil to sour quickly. And, ultimately, the way one feels about a situation does not justify claiming an action or statement is "true." Some people feel really good about chopping people up and eating them for breakfast. That doesn't mean it's justified.

Thus, I've been on a logic kick. Emotions=complicated, Logic=refreshingly constant.

It took an epically romantic morning with my Creator yesterday--crying and letting Him hold me--to remember the role of faith in the above equations. Sometimes Truth hides in a logical-emotional cocktail--resulting in absolute, faith-filled belief.

I'll share the details in a minute. But first, I wanted to re-post something I wrote in a Facebook note about a year and a half ago. This describes an experience I had the LAST time God was trying to teach me the role of emotions. It was the last time I enjoyed a life-changingly romantic experience with my creator:

Truth be told, we fight more often than we should. But Luke used to write love letters and bring me Cheddar and Sour Cream potato chips--and now he's too over-worked to answer simple questions without getting irritated. People like to joke that the honeymoon is over--but in our case, it never started. As soon as Luke and I got married, we both had school and work to consider, and there was little time for romance....

But am I not supposed to be first on his list?! I'm feeling depressed, purposeless, neglected...and it's his job to fix it! Sometimes things are fine, but other times I wish we could go BACK to the days when marriage seemed like the answer to all our problems. Back then we struggled to keep ourselves from getting too close. But, almost since the day we said "I do"--I have been feeling undesirable and unlovable--so that I'd give anything to be close again. Where did the passion go?

I need to find a way to get these thoughts out. It has been so long since I spilled everything onto a piece of paper to relieve the stress. In fact, the last time I journaled was....the night before Luke and I got married. Has it really been a year and a half? While we were dating, I did my devotions and spent time writing at the end of EVERY night--thoughts, prayers, opinions, and short rants. My journal was a roadmap of my heart, and I always intended to give it to my husband as a wedding present. Each entry was headed "Dear Luke," but I talked to God frequently throughout the pages.

Then I gave Luke the three volumes of diaries full of love letters on June 14, 2008, and I considered the project finished. I haven't written regularly since then--which means the regular devotions stopped, too. THAT'S when I started feeling depressed. That's when I sensed a loss of passion.
Maybe it isn't Luke's love I'm missing. Maybe it's God's... Could it be, instead of being neglected, I'm doing the neglecting after all? Is it possible that Luke couldn't bring me out of this depression with all the time and potato chips in the world?
*****
That very night, I started journaling again. Turns out, God had been trying to say "I Love You" the whole time I was dying for romance. But he had a hard time getting my attention. I was away doing important things like caring for children with special needs, finishing my degree, and watching Wheel of Fortune. Between those things and nagging my husband to love me in God's place, I was too distracted to realize I was longing for a different Lover.

Once I settled down with God and my space heater, candle light, piano music, and the Christmas tree, my mood started to perk up. When I praised Him for giving me a job, talents, a house, and plenty of syrup for making chocolate milk, I started noticing even more blessings for which to thank Him. And when I expressed gratitude that Luke is willing to work 8 hours a day, then go to class for three more hours, then come home and do two hours of homework--all to support me--I didn't mind he was tired. In fact, I felt like a complete jerk for demanding constantly that he listen to my accusations when, every time he asked what he could do, I answered "I don't know."

Yesterday, I re-visited the "Nudey Box"--which is the name Luke gave to a cigar box with a painting of a half-naked mermaid on it. It's where he keeps his love notes from me. It reminded me life was NOT perfect before we got married, and that all we ever talked about was that glorious day in the future when we could be man and wife. How dare I complain it isn't easy enough and I want to go back? But the love notes also reminded me I have a VERY romantic husband. He simply can't fill holes that remain when I shove my First Love away.
*****
Today, I was driving to work just before 6:00 in the morning, hands NUMB because I had just pumped the gas I forgot to pump last night. The roads were empty except for me and the poor souls delivering the Journal Gazette. And, together, we froze in the pitch dark and ambled through our routines--most of us glad it's Friday. But in the midst of the same-old, I happened to glance to my right in time to see a shooting star zip past. It startled me a little, but, immediately, I said aloud, "Cool, God!"

It reminded me that, several years ago, my mom heard that astronomers were expecting a meteor shower at a particular time that week. So, at the appointed hour, she and my dad, brother, sister, Luke, and I drove to a farmer's field and laid on our backs looking up at the stars together. We probably saw 10-12 shooting stars that night, and everyone walked away smiling. It was one of those rare occasions where you KNOW you've made a memory instead of just hoping you'll never forget.

So, I smiled to myself this morning while I wondered about the odds of catching a glimpse of the shooting star without looking for it, and I thanked God for the pleasant memory it brought up. Then I smiled even bigger because I thought it was so like God to create something beautiful out of burning rocks--which serve no purpose other than to be "cool." So I wondered, did anyone else see it? Most people were just waking up or getting out of the shower. And everyone already awake had to be looking at the EXACT same spot at the EXACT same time in order to see it.

I'll admit a tear slipped out when I understood I'd been given a love note. I'm sure God did that just for me, knowing that stars make me smile. It was one of the best gifts I've ever gotten. As wonderful as my husband is, he never caused an astrological phenomenon in my honor. He may not even remember the night we watched a meteor shower with my family, and he probably has NO IDEA I enjoyed it as much as I did. But God knows what it takes to make me say "cool," and I picture Him giddy with excitement to throw that star in front of my view.
*****
There is a 5-year-old boy at the daycare who has better drawing skills than I have ever seen in a pre-schooler before. He loves colors, shapes, road maps, and photographs because he has such a talent for duplicating them. Finally he dried most of our markers with his creations and had to go several days without coloring. But the other day, my boss gave me a new package of markers for the classroom. Let me tell you, I could not WAIT to give it to that little boy. I knew he would smile and tear into them right away. Was God THAT thrilled to send the shooting star this morning?

I'm so glad I've re-opened the eyes of my soul through journaling so I'm prepared to see the beautiful things God does for ME. I know He loves the world, and that He sent his Son to die for US. But what did He do recently to romance YOU? Are you a music-lover who heard that song at the right time, in the right place? Has God given you a love of humor, only to put funny things in your path just to hear you laugh? How many times a week does God get excited in preparation for doing something "easy" just for you?

I know many people would say I'm egotistical to believe there is a God who sent burning debris just to make my day (or make my month!). But I'm going to file the event in my mental Nudey Box anyway. How did I EVER feel unloved?

So, there you have it. The logical, head-thinking, debate-loving Amanda turns to sap over a stupid meteor. It was wonderful! And yesterday's experience was similar...

Per usual, it all started with a return of the depression, anxiety, and racing mind which usually tell me something is wrong. Miraculously, I wasn't tempted to blame Luke this time. (He is my favorite scapegoat, but he has been so sweet lately I couldn't even pretend he was the problem.) But WHAT was the problem?

I've been engaging in dialog with an anonymous reader (or "Nony" as I've affectionately deemed her)--talking about God, the Bible, and truth in general. But every time I walked away from the conversation, I felt a certain...restlessness. Our talks have been friendly and beneficial, so there was no reason to feel unhappy. Yet there was little peace in my heart...

One of the points I've been repeating to Nony, over and over, is that Truth is Absolute. God and his laws are unchanging, even if we can't agree on what those laws are. Relativism--or the belief that two mutually-exclusive ideas can be equally right--doesn't hold up logically or practically. And, therefore, Christians may use the same logic we use to say "the grass is green" confidently to state "Jesus is Lord, and the Bible is God's word" with the same conviction.

So why did I lie awake at night thinking I hadn't made the case well enough? Why did all the talk about identity, relativism, Truth vs. Opinion, etc. leave me feeling just as sure of my beliefs--but drained of enthusiasm? Where was the passion (or at least the contentment) I expected to feel in return for carrying the message of God's truth?

I pressed on--believing that I must uncover truth, even though it's hard. Emotions are complicated, and doing difficult things is just part of life sometimes. But I told God, "I'll keep going for You!" and hoped He appreciated it...I was still struggling with lack-of-sleep and lack-of-direction when I left for Kokomo, and I was looking forward to talking about philosophy with my dad.

What I DIDN'T expect--interrupting our musings on the law of identity and C.S. Lewis quotes--was for my mom to yell from the kitchen, "I think all that talk about logic comes straight from Satan!"
Now, this is a woman who has been a Christian for more than 20 years. She believes in God. She believes the Bible is true, but she thinks it's wrong to discuss her reasons for it?
Not exactly.
Instead, she pointed out, "I have logical reasons for believing what I do--but you can't prove it once and for all. That eliminates faith. God isn't logical!" That sounded a lot like what Nony was saying.

I tried to reason with her. "Yeah, but Mom, what if somebody has legitimate questions about whether it's even POSSIBLE for God to exist or for the Bible to be true. If they honestly don't believe it, you can't ask them to just 'trust' you. Right? We are told to give an answer for the hope we have, and that means helping those who doubt find reasons to believe."

But Mom was insistent. "I became a Christian because your dad was different from anyone else I'd ever met, and he was a smart guy. He showed me that belief wasn't absurd. But, talking about whether a tree can be a tree and a non-tree at the same time isn't relevant! I think it's Satan confuses things on purpose to take faith out of the equation." Interesting perspective, huh? And this new idea that Emotions and Logic TOGETHER have something to do with "faith" set the stage for my romantic Sunday morning...

That's when I got an email from a friend, in which she said several things which helped make more sense of ALL my recent, mind-spinning struggles.

First, she said, "What do we DO, and how does logic fit into the process? Ah, Amanda, it's a journey. Probably a lifelong journey. And it's a mission-critical journey, a quest, if you like. I'm glad you're on it and want to continually encourage you to keep on it -- too many people just accept the status quo and it's important that you don't become complacent or cynical or burned out." These words stuck out because I HAVE been feeling a little burnt out. But the real kick to the head was the mention of a journey. This is something I've believed about the Christian life for a long time. It is a fluid, changing relationship with God, like taking a walk with Him and making a little progress each day. Your faith is different from my faith, though the truth we find is unchanging. So, maybe the way my mom comes to understand God, and the way an anonymous reader comes to know Him, and the way I experience him is different, too?

As it turns out, in my concern for proving there are no double standards--that Ultimate Truth must be the same for everyone--I forgot to take into account that people relate to God differently. Logically speaking, it's not possible for me to be hungry and not hungry at the same time, but it IS possible for to me to be hungry when YOU are not. That doesn't mean truth is relative. I believe all of us will arrive at the same Absolute conclusion if we are sincere in our searching. But, in this case, our two "truths" (being hungry and not being hungry) are not mutually exclusive. We don't have to agree on whether BOTH of us is hungry at the same time--it's possible to feel different things at different times, just like it's possible to arrive at the same truth through different methods of searching.

Another part of the email, then, broke my heart in a very good kind of way. It said, "[following God] hurts and doesn't make sense half the time, but I have to believe that He reads our blogs, journals, and emails and sees our hearts. And that He will give us the desires of our hearts. I believe that He planted in your heart the desire for truth to prevail - and He will fulfill that desire. There just may be pieces of your life that don't seem to have anything to do with logic or being a witness or anything productive. Meaningless, apparently barren things that seem to take forever and that seem to be a waste of time, talent, and treasure. But He uses them. By faith I say this because my life currently has rather an abundance of these!"

It brought tears to my eyes because I realized, all this time I was trying to convince others, God was using the situation to speak to ME. He reminded me of my meteor experience in order to show me that the times we know Him the best often relate directly to our feelings and experiences--not necessarily "logic." My mom fell in love with a smart, Christian man. It brought her to the Truth. Others experience a miraculous healing or a vivid dream. It brings them to the Truth. Some of us get excited when we realize logic and reason, too, point to the unchanging Truth. But, ultimately, we can't "prove" ANYTHING. (For goodness sake, people have debated whether or not we can even "prove" our OWN existence. But, in the end, every belief requires a little faith.)

Make sure your beliefs are sensible. The grass is green. God exists. The Bible is His word. Do these things make sense? Are they possible? But, in times of doubt and pain--when the journey hurts and you've asked all the questions you can--that's when we rely on faith. The idea that God reads my thoughts and waits for the perfect time to rescue me--to give me the desires of my heart--humbles me. It romances me. And it brings me back to good ol', basic faith.

Turns out, even when I do things out of sacrifice, telling God He better appreciate it, the trials were part of his plan for MY growth and MY benefit all along. Even when I think I'm doing God a favor, it's Him who is pursuing me...who pursues all of us.

Praise God, none of us has to "get it all right" to understand pieces about Him and carry out His purposes. We're here for different reasons, to learn different lessons, and to relate in different ways. What a beautiful, logically-backed yet emotional-charged journey is the journey of faith.

No, emotions aren't all bad. In fact, it's the emotional encounters with God that a no-nonsense person like me expects the least and enjoys the most. When logic tells us it's okay to believe--it's possible and not crazy to rely on God--that's when our experiences and emotions are free to tell us the rest.

Chiseling Our God

If there is a God, I want to worship Him as He is...not as I think He should be.

For Almost Every Problem, the Solution is "Daddy"...

Remember the song Butterfly Kisses by Bob Carlisle? It's sung from the perspective of a father, watching his little girl grow from a flower-picking, circle-twirling princess to a mature, wedding dress-clad lady asking him to escort her down the aisle. The chorus repeats, "After all that I've done wrong, I must have done something right to deserve a hug every morning and butterfly kisses at night."

I confess, as a fairly little girl myself when the song hit the charts, I didn't get the hype.
But, just today, I stumbled upon a quote by Mr. Carlise that DID tug at my heartstrings. He says, "I get a lot of mail from young girls who try to get me to marry their moms. That used to be a real chuckle because it’s so cute, but then I realized they didn’t want romance for mom. They want the father that is in that song, and that just kills me."

Truly, it kills me, too. The single greatest gift a child can be given is the presence of a father...

My own dad is a stand-up comic who has posted several sample videos to YouTube. Once, while I was watching a clip of his, I noticed a comment by someone I didn't recognize saying, "That's my dad!" Another user said, "Really? You have a cool dad! Is he that funny at home?" And this girl said, "Not when he wakes me up for school!" To be totally honest, my jealousy flared up over that incident--and I popped into the discussion to say, "Hey, I didn't know I had another sister! Will you be joining us at Thanksgiving? signed, one of John's REAL daughters." I was frustrated that somebody would try to use him for their own ego boost. That's MY dad!

But, after reading the quote from Mr. Carlisle, it puts a new perspective on things. Before, I thought this random commenter simply wished her dad was as cool as mine. Now I wonder if she had a dad at all.

Nearly 4 out of 10 kids in America doesn't have a dad at home. In the African American community, the situation is even more bleak: three quarters of children live with Mom only. There have been plenty of studies showing the benefits of a daddy's influence--and the emotional toll it takes on a child when he's absent. But, I think each of us knows the facts on a deeper level than that...
----
"Alyssa" was a student of mine--a typical four-year-old with a talent for chatter and a fiesty streak. (By "fiesty" I mean, "downright adverse" when she put her stubborn will up to it. She once screamed in the corner for over 30 minutes rather than pick up the blocks she left on the floor.) Anyway, nothing really seemed "wrong" with Alyssa at first glance. But, like many of the kids in my classroom, her parents never married. And whether her mother noticed or not, it affected her.

One day, Alyssa raided the dress-up box and emerged fully decked out in lace and pearls. She put a plastic crown on her head and examined the results in the floor-length mirror before scanning the room for an audience. I could see the thoughts in her head: "Somebody has to appreciate this! I look too good to go unnoticed!" Then, she promptly headed for the meanest, most sour 6-year-old boy in the room and asked, "How do I look?!"

"Ugly," he said. And he walked away.

You may think Alyssa cried--but she didn't. She was fiesty, remember? However, she didn't stop looking for approval, either. She walked slowly in front of a three-year-old student and said, "Look, I'm a princess!"
He wasn't rude--but he wasn't impressed.
So, Alyssa took out her big voice (which we're supposed to reserve for outside or emergencies, by the way) and attempted to demand attention.

"EVERYBODY has to look at ME because I'm the Princess in charge!... Now let's play princess, and I'll wear this crown! It looks good on me!"

None of the others really noticed the loudness--they certainly didn't know Alyssa's self-confidence was on the line. So they kept doing whatever they had been doing and ignored her.

Luckily, that's when my coworker walked through the door.....a male coworker, to be precise.

"Mr. Lance! I'm dressed like a princess!" Alyssa said, still using the outside voice, though I excused it based on the fact that this was an emotional emergency. And, thankfully, she finally got the help she needed.

"You look absolutely beautiful."
----

That wasn't the only time Alyssa revealed her heart. Shortly after her mother got remarried, she bounded through the classroom door and yelled, "(step-dad) said I can call him Daddy!"
It was the best news she had gotten in her life.

No, I don't need stats and studies to tell me dads are important...

----

Sometimes I think my love for my dad hurts my mom, and I wish that wasn't the case. It's not that his importance makes her irrelevent. But I think the father's significance is a God-given attribute, and it's staggering how many problems can be linked back to a person's lack-of-a-father.

God compares himself to a father, so it must be big deal. This also explains why the role of fatherhood has been attacked and abused so relentlessly. What better way for Satan to obscure the idea of God than to take away the best earthly example of His character?
A loving Daddy.

It's not even HARD for him to wreak havoc on families in the midst of a self-absorbed culture. It's hard for mothers to accept that their kids need a dad. It's hard for dads to step up and be needed so very much. And, those who aren't up for the task simply try to tell themselves kids are "fine" without the two-parent model God designed...

----
Luke and I are planning to foster/adopt in our future, and I can't wait. It's not that I'm excited to jump through all the hoops required to prove we are capable parents. It's not that I feel we have loads of space, food, and other resources just begging to be given to the "disadvantaged." Perhaps most strangely, I don't feel I'm called to save the world one child at a time, the way we may expect an adoptive parent views their role. At least, I'm not called to do so alone. No, the best thing I have to offer my children is what my mother provided for me: a father.

And, though it may be hard when my little girl craves Daddy's attention above mine, or my little boy demands "man time" and prefers wrestling and sports to my cuddles, this is an act of selflessness I KNOW pays off. Children with fathers have more self-confidence, are less sexually promiscuous, do better in school, have less chance of depression, and a host of other things. But, perhaps most importantly, they have an easier time understanding the verse, "How great is the love the Father has lavished on us..."

I have wonderful Daddies, in Heaven and on Earth, and I'm ready to kill my own selfish desires in order to share that gift with my children.

Can't Know Anything About God...?

So, what if somebody agrees God started all of this, but that His will cannot be known by finite, fallible humans?

Personally, I think this results in the same moral issues I spoke about in "Risen from Apes" and "Teaching Little Apes"--namely, how can we make ANY judgment calls if we don't agree on a standard? How can we determine right and wrong? Sure, if there is a God, we may not be glorified monkeys or freak accidents, but we still don't know WHY we're here....right? Isn't His existence practically useless unless we know something about Him?

My basic point is, all of us lives with the belief that some things are "bad" and others are "good," but--if there isn't a God, or there is one but He can't be found--where do we get those ideas?

Spiritual Imagination

I'm reading an excellent book at a friend's recommendation: Flickering Pixels by Shane Hipps.

So far, I haven't agreed with everything in it. But his basic message could be summed up: we are what we behold. And this generation "beholds" lots and lots of blinking lights. Computers and television, cellphones and smart-phones. We're exposed to endless amounts of information, but most of us don't know what to do with all of it...

In the chapter I just finished, Hipps states his belief that movies are never as good as the book--a fact which most avid readers repeat every time a "based-on-the book" film is released. He attributes this phenomenon to the sharp contrast between written media and the concrete images provided for us in movies. For a reader, there is an endless number of ways to interpret the written word and experiencing a story personally. Even authors who use great detail in describing their scenes can't possibly open up your brain and deposit an exact picture. Imagination is freed through reading.

But a movie leaves no room for imagination. All questions are answered for the audience according to the director's interpretation of the story. Sometimes the director has an interesting take on a concept, and movies certainly have the power to generate thought. But eventually, constantly tuning in to another person's image causes audiences to lose the ability to form a picture on their own.

"In a very real way, image culture is eroding and undermining imaginative creativity...this goes way beyond the creation of good art or entertainment--our imaginations are what help us change the world."

This makes a lot of sense to me. I posted an article recently that said college students aren't able to think as critically as past generations, and I have a feeling the pixel-media has something to do with it. (Students were given problem scenarios, but most were unable to choose objective solutions when confronted with emotional visuals...) Since all of us are being confronted with images ALL DAY LONG, we're losing the ability to think creatively.

It may also explain why people post silly quotes to Facebook (or state their bra-size) thinking it advances a cause. Or, why college kids complain to the Dean of Students and try rewriting the Code of Ethics as soon as somebody offends them. (Or, why their parents demand a law change at the national level for the same reasons.) It seems very few people are coming up with innovative ways to illicit change. Instead all of us want to update our Twitter or pay someone else to do it (preferably through PayPal, so we don't have to leave our office). There is no imagination there.

But, just before I became cocky, Hipps tied his statement to the spiritual world, and I realize I'm just as guilty of concrete, uncreative thinking as the next person.

"This malaise even affects what we might call spiritual imagination. This is the kind of daring imagination that helps us expand our experience and understanding of God, the kind of imagination that allows us to enact God's compassion in a broken world."

How many times have I asked, "What am I supposed to do now, God?" How often do I think, "My, how broken this world is!" but never really brainstorm a great solution? Oh, and what's worse: I become skeptical of the BIG IDEAS being tossed around by fellow believers. I caution the dreamers not to get too excited, and I talk about the dangers of letting emotions control us when a logical, rational approach to life is much better. Though I'm reading the words of great thinkers, it's the equivelent of flipping through hundreds of images--adopting the thoughts of others. Sure, I amass facts as a result. But I'm still stuck in front of this computer, adding little originality to the world. And I wonder, has all this screen time resulted in the loss of my imagination?

Over and over, I feel the nudge of the Holy Spirit saying "You have a purpose greater than this...do something BIG!" only to respond in a very underwhelming, unimaginative way...

Perhaps doing nothing at all. Or, to give the illusion of accomplishment, I may sit and write about my thoughts...right here in front of my flickering pixels.

This Article: Too Many Words for Joy Behar?

Once, on The View, Joy Behar criticized televangelist Joel Osteen for his belief that homosexuality is a sin. (I wrote about another time Ol' Joel met a talk show host out for blood here.) Everytime soft-spoken, easy-going Joel didn't finish his sentence fast enough for Joy, she would rapid-fire a series of accusations-disguised-as-questions.

You can see the video on YouTube, but if you've ever listened to an entertainment host "interview" someone with a different point of view, you can picture it. Even conservative hosts, with whom I usually agree philosophically (Beck, Rush, Hannity) tend to badger guests with opposing ideas instead of letting them speak. This frustrates me, since I believe those particular hosts are honest students of the truth and have no reason to silence guests. But it's an epidemic in the media to invite people to talk and then allow the main personality to hijack the majority of the conversation.

I think I understand why. Oh, we all know they're concerned primarily with ratings--and conflict sells. But I think there's another problem. All shows, whether on radio, television, or live, have a limited amount of time to make their cases and discover "truth"--despite the fact that truth may require extra digging and can't be rushed. As I wrote to a friend in a recent comment, "Truth isn't sound-bite friendly." I just meant the soul-searching and proof-offering aspect of it doesn't fit nicely between commercial breaks.

So, Joy says to Joel something like, "Where do you get the right to call homosexuality a sin?"
Joel: Uh, hm. Well, you know, (*Award winning smile*) I'm glad to--
Joy: You're hurting people with your claims, you know?!
Joel: Well, uh, hm, I don't mean to hurt anybody, but--
Joy: You know it's not a choice, don't you, Joel? Homosexuality is not a choice!

And this is where I arrive at my point on today's blog. The word in the medical community is that There is no gay gene. Read the article! It's extremely well-written and documented like a term paper. You even can pull up some of the author's sources with a simple Google Search and read what THOSE people are saying, too. Research for my research-loving readers, and not the kind you're likely to see reported on MSNBC or CNN.

But, beware. It's a lot of reading. If you desire a logical-sounding, passionately delivered one liner, which makes good TV but has no real-world support, flip to The View on weekday mornings. However, if you want the truth, you're better off scouring articles with too many words for Joy Behar.

Becoming Valuable Through Service, or Serving the Already-Valuable?

I found this video today, in which Peter Heck discusses the purpose of humanity. Are we here to serve each other, like parts of an engine? Does this give us our value?



Jesus compares Christians to the parts of a body--all having different roles while working toward the same goal. When one part suffers, all of us do. And we can't function properly if some parts are rebelling. For this reason, some may think the idea of serving-to-earn-your-value is sanctioned by the Bible.

But, to be clear, this is NOT the reason to pursue servanthood.

Each Christian's role in the body is a valuable one, but the role isn't want gives him/her value as an individual. Humans remain priceless, even while neglecting their duties--indeed, even if they intentionally mess things up for the rest of the engine! All men, everywhere, are valuable just for BEING.

We are called to serve each other because everybody, from the widow and orphan to the wealthiest businessman, has been created in God's image.

Heaven forbid I stop caring for people when they become useless to me.

"It Takes Longer to Think than to Feel"

I've reported a couple of personal meltdowns on this site, so it's no secret I have irrational, emotional moments. Usually, they happen late at night when both Luke and I are tired and selflessness becomes the last thing we're interested in... (Well, maybe second-to-last.)

But, another common battleground for my lover and I is the car. Lately, if we're still holding hands and smiling after ten minutes or so, one of us will joke, "Are you ready to fight, yet?" It's because--more often than not--a trip somewhere is the fastest way to transform us from best friends to bitter rivals.

I kid you not. Once, Luke and I had a knock-down drag-out fight I'll give the title"When is the best time to shift gears with a manual transmission vehicle?" Another time, Luke grew angrily silent and I cried due to a discussion-gone-wrong about possible reasons my dad's clunker car hadn't given out yet.

Why do certain situations bring out the worst in us?

Well, it's easy to hypothesize about it now--safely on this side of the emotion. But, in the heat of the moment, "why" is hard to tack down, and all that seems to matter is how much we irritate each other.

That's why I was excited to stumble across This article today, titled "It Takes Longer to Think than to Feel." First of all, it was good to know Luke and I are not the only couple who get snippy for "no apparent reason." But, secondly, the author assures us there may be a reason--it just takes longer to sort out the "why" than to simply FEEL upset.

Looking back at the silly arguments from here in my comfy recliner, it makes sense that travel may cause heightened tension between Luke and I. In addition, the fight about shifting gears took place toward the end of our Volkswagon Beetle's life--during a time it repeatedly stalled in the middle of the street. In fact, that very day, just before we began bickering, the car shut itself off while we were doing 40 mph downtown. It seems pretty obvious now why emotions were high.

In the second example, Luke and I had just ridden with my parents to Kokomo from Lafayette. They tooks us to where we had left our own car earlier than morning, when we realized Luke had left his coat and OUR KEYS at my aunt's house in Lafayette. As a result, we had to borrow my dad's car to drive 45 minutes, get the keys, drive BACK to Kokomo, and then take our own vehicle home to Fort Wayne.

The oil light was on in Dad's car and his gas gauge was stuck on "empty." That's when one of us mused, "I wonder what's holding this car together?" and all Hell broke loose.

Indeed, it does take longer to think than to feel. But, I agree with the author of the article above. Just knowing that fact gives us a better ability to manage life's "out of nowhere" tensions.