The Weight of Wait

With the Inferno of Wheeeeee complete I find myself finally able to get back to moving forward with life. It's hard to feel any sense of accomplishment when your goals seem so far away and you simply have to wait. Even though they may be grand goals and worth their wait in gold (oh yeah, I went there!) it's still hard to find value in the mundane things of the everyday. Things like having the car serviced and cleaning just seem like time fillers. I've never been good at living in the moment. I've heard of those who find it easy (I assume they are all myths of course), but I always find myself looking ahead. "Things will be better when X happens," "Once we move to Y we will have more opportunity to Z," and my personal favorite, "A squared plus B squared equals personal contentment." Luckily I do find things to do with myself that are meaningful, but it's just so hard to wait. Does anyone else find this?...anyone?...no?...didn't think so.

Sellout That Funky Music

Don't get me wrong, everyone knows that I'm the world's biggest rap fan, but there's something I don't understand. As I'm sitting here listening to rap blaring (used loosely) from the laptop of the whitest kid I've ever seen (other than myself of course...represent!) I wonder what has happened to this form of music that now makes it appeal to whitebred homeslices everywhere. Weren't it's roots developed as a response to oppression and life in the ghetto? How can some yuppy white kid from Twin Brooks have any idea what it's like to be enslaved as a people? Has rap just sold out to the almighty dollar of the same mucky-mucks which it was so opposed to it in the first place? Hmmm...let me think...

Stuff You Don't Care About

9 losses down, 1 to go. Most definitely the least favorite volleyball season of my illustrious career is finally, mercifully coming to an end tonight. In my 9 years as a player and 4 years coaching I have never enjoyed a season less. In fact, for the first time in a long while I am thinking about not coaching next year. Every year I've coached I have bemoaned the fact that I am not playing, but I've always been able to justify the sacrifice because I love the game and I love teaching it. However, that did not hold true this year. We will see about next fall.

It's not so much that we will most likely end the season without a single win (we actually had one, but defaulted thanks to our athletic director...but I'm not bitter), but rather the manner in which those losses were acquired. I've never been part of a team (volleyball or not) with so little passion and drive to win. I can't even count how many balls landed on our side with 6 people standing stone still, watching it. One of the biggest problems every year at Taylor is trying to build team dynamics with all new players...every single year. We have 9 girls who have never played with each other compared to teams like Augustana with 4 5th year players. Throw into the mix a couple of girls who are maybe a little too competitive and show it by yelling (correct me if I'm wrong, but I find that yelling doesn't go over well with women) and we have a wonderful season of fun and happy happy pieces.

But tonight the flaming, twisted mass of enjoyment comes to a screeching final inferno of wheeeeee...!

God Takes A Timeout

I should have been born a rally car driver!

In perhaps more important matters I am struck by further readings in Exodus. When God sends Moses and the Israelites on their way after the calf debacle, he says to Moses:

Go up to the land flowing with milk and honey. But I will not go with you, because you are a stiff-necked people and I might destroy you on the way. (Exodus 33:3)

I find this both humorous and depressing at the same time. It's like God is saying, "Alright we'll keep going, but I need a time out...or I might WIPE YOU FROM THE FACE OF THE EARTH!!!" How many times has God had to do this with me? "Okay, glad that little episode is over now let's get going again...but you'll have to go alone for a bit because I really want to throttle your neck right now and I'm afraid of what I might do." Maybe that's why we sometimes feel a little alienated from God...who knows?!

2 For 1

A rare double dip for me today, but I had to comment on something. I'm reading through Exodus right now and, although I've read it many times, I am struck anew with the strangeness of it all. I've been contemplating my connection with my Jewish roots (in regards to Christianity, not heritage) and how it's a shame that our freedom in Christ has lead us to completely free ourselves from our past. For instance, Christ says in Matthew that if our righteousness does not exceed that of the Pharisees then it is worthless. How can we exceed them if we don't study the past which informs their thinking. I feel that we miss out on a huge part of our religion when we see the Old Testament as no longer applicable...but that's another rant altogether.

What struck me this time is how far removed I am from the world of the Sons of Israel. Yes, part of it is the ocean of time between us, but a lot of it is the change brought about by Christ. No longer do I have to sacrifice animals or make atonement for objects or myself to commune with God. I am also struck by the realness and ferocity with which God acted amongst the people of Israel. So many of the laws in the Torah were punishable by death (didn't keep the Sabbath - put to death, mixed the same formula of incense used in the temple - dead). And when God saw the people worshipping the calf, Moses went and gathered the Levites and slaughtered a bunch of them. Only when reading these accounts do I truly start to understand the burden which has been lifted from my shoulders...and the juxtaposed responsibility!

Play That Funky Music...And Other Jewish Laws

I had no idea that musical muscles existed and, more importantly, that they can get out of shape (or maybe not in shape in the first place. After this weekend I am all music-ed out. Music has been a passing hobby for me for the past few years, but I am attempting to delve further into its recesses (especially before The Great Paul moves east). But this weekend was a little much for right now. We had worship practice (for Sol Cafe) on Saturday morning at Rob and Deb's, then a worship gathering for Claireview in the evening. Sunday morning was sound check and worship at Claireview, followed by worship at Sol Cafe. And to top it all off i started lessons with the aforementioned Paul of Greatness on Monday afternoon. Hopefully this will get me into shape sooner rather than killing me.

On a more intellectual note, I did some research about the 7 Noahide Laws of the Jewish faith. I was inspired to embark upon such a quest by Simone, a Jewish friend. Most of my info was gleaned from Wikipedia, but I plan to do some more poking around the internet. Basically, they are the 7 laws given to Noah after the flood as a new covenant, 5 of which are found later in the commandments given to Moses, and 2 of which are different (not eating meat that still has the lifeblood in it, and setting up just courts and laws. Essentially these are the laws which non-Jews who wish to become the "righteous among the gentiles" must follow. What I found especially interesting was the debate over whether or not Christians could be seen as sons of Noah because of the conflict between belief in the Trinity and the command to worship one God. It seems that Muslims have little difficulty being seen as "righteous" if they follow the other laws, but there is a split over Christianity's adherents being seen in the same light.

Much food for thought and further study...

Who Needs It?

I can barely lift my arm this morning. I guess hitting volleyballs at girls for 2 hour straight will do that to you. You'd think that after a few months of this I would be used to it by know, but I haven't quite gotten over the out-of-shape-ity. I really need to keep up with some exercise...nah!

The Devil Made Me Do It

I now know why breweries no longer use the stubby beer bottles. They tend to detonate with the slightest impact and shatter into a thousand tiny shards which then stick to everything, including the inside of my finger!

I guess that serves me right for brewing the Devil's drink.

Old Age and Waterslides

It's sad that at the age of 25 I'm starting to feel old in some regards. Okay, before the onslaught of comments from smart...old people (and Amanda...kind of a backhanded comment how I singled you out and yet kept you separate from the old people, man I'm good) begins I'd like to say that I'm not complaining about how old I am and I realize you are all so much older than I. Mostly I've noticed it with volleyball where I can barely keep up to my players even though I'm the one making them run from the comfort of my lawn chair and megephone. I can no longer run around like a ninny for hours at a time (maybe that's a good thing) and the next day the muscles don't quite bounce back the way they used to.

One good thing that I have noticed is that I have become a much wiser player, placing balls where people aren't and anticipating opponents moves before they happen. These are things that can only come with years of practice and repetition. I always used to marvel (when I wasn't ninny-running) at how my 40+ year old coaches could still make us work so hard when their age had denied them the stamina and speed we possessed. And now I get to understand that firsthand as I dig up the best they can offer and deftly place hits just out of the reach of their pathetically outstretched fingers.

If I was any more of a contemplative I might be able to find some greater metaphor for life here. Meh!

I have decided that my lack of blogging is quite sad (insert sardonic remark...now). I work at an INTERNET CAFE and can't find the time to blog! I mean come on, how pathetic is that?! (insert mordant critique...wait for it....wait...NOW).

Actually it's been lack of inspiration that has led to this state of bloglessnessidity. My life is currently consumed with coaching volleyball, most of which transpires during the farthest reaches of the post meridiem. Not that 11:00 is that late, but I am finding that exercising late at night leaves me wired into the wee hours of the morning. Add to this the usually smattering of board meetings, ministry meetings, work, worship practice and planning, lesson prep, oh yeah, and eating, and I feel a little...tired, like butter spread over too much toast...and then beaten with a stick.

Needless to say, more regular blogage will follow.