Great Expectations... The Conclusion

For one, I have to consider that My Heavenly Father made me to be... me. As Paul would write, he makes different vessels for different purposes. He crafts each person with their own blend of gifts and shortcomings, personalities and tastes. If I acknowledged this in theory, I had to be willing to see it in myself. I realized that I might be able to perform a great many jobs or duties, there were those things that I had a natural aptitude for, and other things which came with greater difficulty. Some things just seemed to "fit" better than others...

Now this may seem oh-so-obvious, but it may raise some concerns, as well. For instance, what if you find that you are gifted for a job that society may not glorify? What if your family doesn't value this profession? What if you have to settle for a shorter check in a culture gone mad with materialism? This isn't a slam dunk for everyone, and this is seldom actually discovered in any of the multitude of personality tests that experts want to offer...

So if the Lord made me, and he made me for a purpose, what then? Well, as I wed these two truths, I see that as I work at my vocation, I am fulfilling His purposes. It is, whether consciously or not, obedience. If I understand that I am only one piece of this enormous puzzle, with each piece being fitted for a specific place in the whole, then I begin to see that by obeying this fundamental calling, I am actually serving my fellow man.

Then, if I see that I am serving my fellow man, I also must see that my fellow man also serves me and my needs. The self-made, self-sufficient man may be the most absurd idol ever imagined. Truly it was said, "No man is an island." We are, all of us, interconnected in ways too deep to get our arms around. Instead of seeing some as servants to be pitied, and others as masters to be envied, I see that whether we fully see it or not, we are all servants. This should come as no surprise when we meditate on the Cross.

So not only did He make me, and for a purpose, but he made me to be a servant to his other creatures. By exercising my gifts, the gifts he gave me, I glorify Him. If I apply myself to this calling with vigor, humility, and joy, I draw close to the heart of worship. As Eric Liddell, the olympic gold medal runner, said in Chariots of Fire, "God (also) made me fast, and when I run, I feel HIS pleasure." This kind of worship grants even the most menial of tasks with the deepest dignity...

Can you see that the man running the bulldozer can lay an offering on the altar as beautiful as the nun who ministers to the destitute in Calcutta? Isn't that... just amazing? What can your life be? What song can you sing with your life?

If we come full circle, I realize that I still carry a solemn charge, but it isn't quite the way I imagined it (and maybe not how my family understood it, either). It is not a matter so much of redeeming a family name, but redeeming my life by serving the Name Above All Names. It is not about trying to be anything but what I was made to be. It is no longer a matter of being honored among men, but being rewarded by the giver of every good and perfect gift.

And this is where the road has led me. As is often the case, despite the frustration of the young, experience has a way of lending more clarity to things. My prayer is that as I continue to grow in wisdom and years, I might gain an even deeper appreciation for this worship... that I might prove to be a worthy vessel for the rich gifts my Father has bestowed on me. Just by being... me.

Great Expectations... Pt. 3

As I began to work my way through these various trades and pay grades, I encountered something my precocious mind wasn't prepared for. Namely, I worked with a lot of really, really smart guys out there in blue collar jobs. Now, don't throw me under the bus for how dumb this sounds (as least finish reading first). Let me share a SMALL sampling of the people I encountered who shook my tree...

I worked for a painter who went to college for teaching, but got tired of the politics and short pay. He was a terrific man with a sharp mind and warm humor. I met a loader operator who had a full ride scholarship to a tech school, but declined it because he figured that rather than take all that time in a classroom, he would just read the books the teachers wrote (or the books that they read themselves)! Yeah, and he was actually reading these books, too. I worked with welders who understood Geometry and Trigonometry far better than, I suspect, some of the teachers that I had. I could go on and on, but I think that you get a glimpse...

None of these guys were miserable or unhappy in their work. That is not to say everyday was a celebration (it is a job, after all), but these were not galley slaves resigned to empty lives. To be frank, these guys seemed to have lives full of joy that I did not usually see mirrored in those who had the "white collar" jobs. They enjoyed the great outdoors, ate food that their own hands may have killed and butchered, sometimes worked right alongside their own sons, bragged about grandkids, watched over their elderly parents, etc, etc. Now, this is not saying that they were all of noble blood (jerks and dogs reside in every tier of society), but many lived what I might call "rich lives."

Maybe the most disarming of all, most of these men had a common-sense, clear-thinking way of seeing life that just cut right through the usual classroom theorizing. They had been raised on the meat and potatoes of Integrity, Work Ethic, and Family. They found the classroom (and the educational establishment), with its' abstract discussions and office-bound lifestyles, restricting and less than satisfying. What I had assumed was inability was actually a self-realization and wisdom that I myself did not possess...

Another discovery that I made was the truly profound joy of working with my hands (or maybe producing tangible results might be another way to say it). I was used to making calculations or writing a paper, and while these things served their purpose, it was nothing like solving real world problems and actually producing a day's work. It was mentally invigorating, AND physically exhausting. It was so... satisfying.

So what was I to say? How could I reconcile what I was seeing and feeling with that solemn charge so long ago? You know, that whole get a "good" job and "be somebody" thing we talked about back in part one. What did/does that really, actually mean anymore? As I look at my own rapidly growing son, what would I encourage him to do with his life? I think that the answer lies in my perceptions of worship, servanthood, vocation, and God as my Creator.

The Conclusion is next...

Great Expectations... Pt. 2

While I was in high school and since, as noted previously, I have assembled a very diverse resumé. I have been in management, and in the bottom of a hole with a shovel. I have worked alongside aspiring doctors and lawyers, welders, and laborers. I have spent much time in the seats of various classrooms, and recently, I have taken my place in the front of the classroom as the teacher. Maybe, in a small way, I have finally become "Mr. Koschak."

On my way to this humble distinction, I have wrestled with keeping that family trust granted me so long ago. Along the way, I encountered several fallacies in my thinking which I suspect are relatively common. I thought that I might take this chance to share the conclusions that I have come to and how they relate to these flawed assumptions.

For one, whether consciously or otherwise, I carried the assumption that I was somehow "above" or "better than" a blue-collar job. I suspect that several factors contributed to this rather stark assertion.

First, I think that I inherited it from my family. When a young boy listens to his own parents tell him that he needs to get a good job, one that is far more important and superior to their own jobs, it creates a simple equation. Namely, that the type of work they do is not to be sought after, and that they have such a job because they can't get a better one.

I am sharing this, not to lay blame at my parents' feet, but to offer a kind of warning. I would strongly discourage parents or other adults from making pronouncements like these to youth, as it robs certain vocations of their dignity. I believe that every job is important, and that not everyone has the gifts to excel at every job.

Second, I think that this bias is reinforced by society and media. How many times have we seen the blue collar worker portrayed as some beer drinking, basically ignorant, semi-belligerent fool? The idea is that these people are to be ridiculed and certainly not to be taken seriously. On the other hand, the upper class are portrayed as being basically more intelligent, more sophisticated, and mostly better groomed. As a thoughtful person looking for mental stimulation, which would a person choose?

Third, since blue collar jobs are often labor intensive, this bias suggests that jobs that require dirty hands and a sweaty brow are somehow inferior. The thought is that if you were smart, you would not have a bad back at 45. This encourages a person to look at the tradesman or laborer as though they are less than desirable. It feeds the ego to think that we are "above" or maybe "better than" certain jobs, which actually translates to being better than the people doing these jobs...

There are more reasons that I perceived these things this way... but these three are pretty big. However, in His truly infinite wisdom, the Lord has shook my tree with various experiences which He has ordained. And it was (and is) through these experiences that my Heavenly Father is molding my notion of vocation and work. I hope to share some of these humble insights to encourage others on this road with me...

Watch out for Part 3...

Great Expectations...?

When I was a young boy, it was evident to the majority of my family that I was a bright kid. Not necessarily Nobel material (cheap though the award may be these days), but smarter than your average bear, anyway. As I grew, my grades at school stayed strong, and it seemed that I was on the way to great things.

Before this begins to sound like a Charles Dickens novel, I want to offer a little bit of family history. I was born in Northern Minnesota, in a little town named Ely which is located near the Canadian border. It is a small town with a harsh climate, heavily reliant on the two harsh industries of logging and iron ore mining. It is a place that encourages endurance and determination in its’ residents: a legacy of which I am proud.

Like many in Ely, my ancestors only came to this country a few generations ago in search of work and land and opportunity. Half of my ancestors consisted of German lumberjacks who arrived in the north woods and began to apply their trade anew. The other half is a mix of English and Slavic blood. All of them in search of promise in the new world which they would pay for with sweat, aches, and even blood.

Given this hardscrabble existence, one can imagine what it meant to see such a promising young sapling spring up in the midst of the family. Here was a very, very smart young man who will do great things, who will redeem the family name in a way. Here is a boy who may one day be an "important" man with an "important" job. People will call him “Mr. Koschak.”

I remember hearing about how important it was for me to work hard in school, and to one day go to College. College, you see, being the great escape from the hardship of the blue collar life and living paycheck to paycheck. My grandfather, a retired county foreman, used to dig through trash cans to collect aluminum cans, so that he could sell them and give me the money for the college tuition I would have to pay more than a decade yet in the future. This was a serious responsibility and not to be wasted.

So, I grew up and grew older and carried this charge close to my heart. I got married and now I have children of my own. I have gone to College and have had many jobs over these years. In spite of these accomplishments, I still wonder whether or not I have been a faithful vessel for so much hope. Further, I have wondered whether this hope has been somewhat misplaced.... or whether I even understand it at all…

Part 2 coming soon…

Truth, Beauty, and Goodness

Well, I'm back in school again.

No, not amidst the desks this time, but in front of them. The Garden School's academic year has begun again, and I am back in the saddle. Mr. K rides again... or something like that.

I confess that I did not know what to think about this year as I prepared to share. Last year, I was the sole teacher in my class of 15 unsuspecting students. This year, I am sharing teaching and grading responsibilities with an experienced teacher over a class of 20. Being that I am the dominant, obsessive sort, I was prepared for the worst. Like a rottweiler chained to a porcupine, I was sure this was not going to end well...

However, as we are nearing one month in the books, I have already experienced many revelations. Among them is how much of a blessing this shared responsibility has been. My perspective on what a good teacher looks like has changed and I am sure it will continue to evolve over the years I pray I have yet to teach. Much of this I owe to the woman who helps me lead this class and her many insights into what we, as a school, are about.

One of those insights which she has shared was tough for me to take seriously at first. You see, one of main principles, or maybe tenets, of our school is an appreciation for and cultivation of beauty. No, not the stuff of botox and tucking, but real soul-stirring beauty. Hmmmmmm...

Now I want you to try to picture this with me. Our school's crest is a celtic-styled tree with the school's name and three words making up a border of sorts. These three words are Truth, Beauty, and Goodness. With me so far?

For a guy like me, 2 of the three make good sense. I mean, come on... Truth is pretty obvious. This is that propositional stuff that universal absolutes are made up of. Yeah, propositional truth! This is the stuff of education if e'er I saw it!

Then you've got Goodness. Oh yeah, you have to have Goodness. Students need to behave and act morally. That's a good one. Being good. Yeah... that's.... ummm..... good!

But what about this Beauty thing? What? Uh, yeah, some art is beautiful and stuff. Sure.

At some point, I feel as though I began to appreciate this last one, and in this appreciation, I think it changed my perception of the other two. Please let me explain.

First, I had to admit that I really find beauty uplifting. It could be a song, a painting, a child's wonder, or a sunset. Deep within, I am inspired and calmed by such things. As I am driving on the road, and a stirring piece of music comes across the speakers, I feel like I am lighter than a feather. When I sit on my porch, the sunset's glow on my face, I feel worry ebb away and my heart feels a kind of peace.

This is not to be confused with lustful admiration for a curvy female, but a true appreciation of things that are lovely or beautiful. This beauty of which I speak might be transcendent in a way that human flesh can not capture, at least not purposefully, though it may be glimpsed when an artist portrays his or her subject. When a person tries to be this kind of beautiful, however, it flees from them like a bird evading capture.

Second, I had to admit that the recognition of beauty and the appreciation for it seem to be Divine gifts. I was impressed by this as I read Genesis again this year, and I read that the Lord made the Garden for man and that the garden was a beautiful place. I find this somewhat intriguing. I mean, there is apparently something more than utilitarian creation here. It was not only an environment fit for human survival, but it was a beautiful place, as well.

Now on some levels, I understand that this creation account was written from an anthropological viewpoint, and that this is human language. That said, it can not be denied that there is something about beauty that the Lord felt was necessary for his creation. In His desire to bless His creation, Man, He created beauty and the ability to appreciate it. This appears to be as much a blessing as the food He gives Man to eat...

Third, one of the blessings of having a capable mind is the ability to perceive beauty, and possibly to produce it. That is not to say it is a brilliant mind, but a capable one. Recognizing beauty is a skill that, when developed, allows one to see it in more things and to produce beauty for others to enjoy.

For instance, when I read great writing (the classics), I am constantly awed and challenged by the ability of the author/artist to express things in ways that resonate within me. Oftentimes, I find myself thinking something like: "Yes, I can see that... It is just so clear when he/she says it. I just wouldn't have been able to say it quite that way. Wow. I am going to remember that." Do you see what happened? I looked through the author's lens and saw something in a new way, and it was impressed on me. In a way, I am standing on the author/artist's shoulders and my ability to see and explain reality is broadened.

Once I began to put these together, I began to see connections with what we are doing in our little school in a new way. For instance, what is goodness? Is it moral actions... i.e. doing good and not bad. Well in a small way, yes. In a more integrated way, it is that which corresponds to the character of God, Who is altogether lovely. It is aligning our hearts with the Source of all beauty and trying to be beautiful like Him. How could we divorce true Beauty from Goodness?

Further, what about Truth? What hath Truth to do with Beauty? Here, too, it is more than propositional truth, which is such a cold, hell-ish notion of truth. Instead, it is experiential Truth which transforms a soul and makes it beautiful. Now, when I talk about what I do, I tell people that my goal is not to make smarter students necessarily, but to produce leaders with "beautiful souls." I am not so bashful about saying this like I once was.

So, do you see this changing of the guard occurring within me? Now, I feel like I understand my role as teacher a little better than I did before. I certainly don't have it scientifically dissected, like some philosophic autopsy, but I do enjoy the mystery of it a little more now than I used to. The call of the teacher is asking me to take a new road of understanding into previously undiscovered territory.

I am thankful that for this part of my journey, I have a guide to help me along.

Thanks, Aunt Renee.

To be........ me.

Have you ever struggled with who you are?  

Tough question, isn't it?  I have been spending parts of these past few years really trying to figure this out.  No, I don't suffer from schizophrenia (I think), but I find myself trying to get down to who I am... and who I am made to be.

At the first, I found myself struggling with what I would do for a living.  This seems a sad way to define who I am, though.  Many, or possibly most, of us work at jobs that may be less than ideal, but they keep us fed.  The vocation may not match the deepest hungers of the heart, so the job fits like an ill-tailored suit.

 

I began to consider who I am in some Theological sense.  Yes, I am a son of the Living God.  Yes, I am forgiven... redeemed...  etc...  In some ways, this helped, but it still didn't really hit the bulls-eye.  It seemed like that didn't quite answer the question that my soul was asking.  

Then, I began to look at the various roles that I play.  You know, I am a husband, a father, brother, son, and the like.  Here again, it helped lend clarity to some priorities, and it even broadened my perspective a bit.  Suddenly, I felt like my life was more multi-faceted... not just two dimensional.  

However, this still did not seem like it alleviated this nagging feeling...  This was getting closer to the definition or clarity I was looking for, but it still wasn't quite it.  

I think that the answer was made more clear when I considered why the Lord had made me.  No, I am not looking for some general, sweeping declaration that covers all of humanity.  You know, "to know/love God and enjoy Him forever" or some such thing.  Instead, I wanted to find just what this great Being... this God person...  had in mind when he crafted this Patrick guy in particular.  

It is in answering this question that I begin to find my answer.  It is personal.  It is about me.  It is about me in an ultimate sense.  Just why am I here?  What is MY purpose?

Well, this answer is multifaceted, and pretty tangled up.  I have to wrestle with Providence, experience, Fate (?), destiny (?), Free Will, Personality, (Spiritual) Genetics, all of it.  How does this all weave together?  What does my particular tapestry look like?   

Let me tell you that if you think I have this one completely figured out, I don't.  I am not quite there.  I may never quite reach that degree of certainty.  Maybe it changes over time...?  I don't know.  If you have read this far in search of some code or formula to help you figure out your own purpose...  I may have disappointed you.  Maybe I should have written a disclaimer at the beginning of this entry.      

But alas, this Blog is not about cookie-cutter answers.  Nor is it about giving advice, necessarily.  It is certainly not about giving advice on cookie cutting!!!  It is about me, being me, so that maybe you and I can be really us together.  

While I may not have this whole purpose thing wrapped into a tight little box with a bow, the picture is in sharper focus now.  I know that I was made to teach, to be a teacher.  It is arduous, but it is me being me.  I know that I was made to marry my wife, Mrs. Dirthead.  

I know that I was made to be the father of my kids, and that without me, they would not be who they are.  Ironically, without them, I would not be who I am...  Hmmm... put that in your pipe and smoke it!

     

What about the rest?  Well, I don't know.  Maybe I have sliced the bologna too thin here, and it is all semantics, and it approaches absurdity.  Maybe I chase my own tail....   or my personal white whales...  

But maybe it all revolves around trying to understand who I am in light of my own, personal Creator.  This path transcends theory, or abstraction.  It is specific and experiential.  Isn't that what all of our experiences, our opinions, our understanding... really amount to?  Isn't this life as we really encounter it, and not in the way that scholars debate it in smoky parlors?  

And that is what I want to know, to do, to feel.  Life.  Full and true.  A struggle though it may be, but it is worth the sweat and blood.  To be........   me.

Life and... Elton John?

You know, life is funny sometimes, isn't it?  There are times that are deathly serious; times which defy humor.  Other times, we are caught unawares by a silly moment.  I suppose it is under this auspice that I follow up such a heartfelt entry with one that is more light-hearted.

I was feeling particularly nostalgic, so I decided to do a couple of searches on YouTube.  Some times, I search for events which I remember from years gone by...  I can't always say why I do this exactly, except that maybe I am trying to recapture something (hence the nostalgia).  At times, I look for speeches, newscasts, songs, videos, movie clips...  just to dive into the past.  Maybe, in the great tradition of all humanity, I am trying to make some sense of my experiences through reliving them somehow.

This said, I came across some Elton John videos on the 'Tube.  Yes, back in the day, I was quite the Elton John fan.  Of my CD collection, a very large portion consisted of Elton's works.  The songwriting (especially when our man Reg teamed up with his pal Bernie), and, of course, the terrific voice coupled to produce some of my favorite songs.  Even after ten years or more of not hearing them, I found myself singing along step for step.  Yes, I sang with Elton.  I am comfortable admitting that.

One of my favorite albums was "Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy."  This title track, shortened, was my computer password for 4 years...  I literally hummed it to myself nearly every time I logged on.  The story of Sir Elton's friendship with Bernie Taupin, it is a fun song with a certain defiant tone.  

The final track, "Curtains," is still one of my favorite songs of all time.  It is so beautiful and wistful.  It draws us back through time, to young love, to emotion so pure that it is almost embarrassing in the cynical eyes of adulthood.  I hadn't heard this in... about 10 years, and picked it right up.  "A once upon a time..."

In fact, what really stunned me about "Curtains" was that the alternative/grunge band Alice In Chains did a cover of it!  Whoa.  It was actually pretty good.  

But I will tell you this...  if you have never heard the Live in Australia album, wherein Elton performs with the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra (1986)...  well, I just don't know what to tell you about that.  Your heart is cold.  It is marvelous.  Terrific.  Ya oughta give it a listen.  

I am really not kidding about this.  Out of all the CD's I have ever heard, in any genre, it may well be my favorite album.  It is pretty "wow" stuff.  The songs themselves are great.  The symphony is amazing.  Elton brings it.  

Just look at the song list.  "60 years on" recounts an aged soldier... a veteran of a terrible war, looking at the end of his life in despair.  "I need you to turn to" may be one of the most amazing love songs of modern music, but it gets little press.  Speaking of quintessential love songs, this rendition of "Your Song" is marvelous.  His voice has that sincere gravelly sound to it... with an orchestra behind it.  

"Tonight," the song of a broken hearted lover, is a masterpiece.  It tells of a man trying to reach out to a bitter lover, looking for peace and reconciliation.  A man desperate for some sign that this love may be healed.  I don't know exactly why, but the love songs that bespeak of hardship or long suffering seem more true somehow.  "Sorry seems to be the hardest word" follows this same vein.

In his introduction to "The Greatest Discovery," Elton tells us that the lyrics to this song are among his favorites.  As we "watch" a little boy meeting his new baby brother for the first time, we marvel along with him.  It is beautiful.  

These are not the only songs on this particular album...  but this gives a taste.  The album runs the gamut of emotion...  sorrow, joy, alienation, despair, hope, love, foreboding, whimsy...  it's there.  Of course, it is all performed by one of our generation's best singer-songwriters...  did I mention that he performs with an orchestra?  

Why share this exactly?  Maybe I wanted to see how many friends I have that will actually still be talking to me after I admit how much I like Elton John!  I dunno.  I just know that this album almost always takes my breath away when I hear it.  I find myself singing along and even shedding a tear...  it is rich stuff.

Maybe that's just how life is.      

       

 

Garden School Graduation 2009

This is the text of the speech I gave to the Garden School's 2009 graduating class, May 16, 2009.  It was a tough, emotional speech to give, but I hope that it rang true to those who heard it.  Being that I have dreamed of giving such a speech for some years now, it was a deep privilege.  My thanks to my students for asking me to offer these words on such a momentous day.  More than words...

************

(To the crowd as a whole.)

Hello.  My name is Patrick Koschak, otherwise known as the Benevolent Dictator to these Seniors.  I have had the privilege of being their teacher this year in home room class, and they have asked me to be here today in order to share some parting words of wisdom with them.  On behalf of our Seniors, I would like to welcome all of you to the 2009 Garden School Graduation ceremony.  Family and friends, acquaintances and gate-crashers, talking animals and other carbon based lifeforms; you are all welcome here today.  

         (To the Seniors)

You have made it.  Good job.  I am so very, very proud of each of you.   

Here I stand.  I am here to offer something to you.  This day is about the six of you, but this speech will probably sound more like it’s about me.  For those who know me, this may not come as a surprise!  You see, without my experience, I would have nothing at all to say, so in some ways these things must always be autobiographical…  Forgive me if I seem to drift off course.

I remember many moons ago when I sat at my own graduation.  It was in the year of the red grass, before the white man came, when the Buffalo still roamed the prairie, but I remember it still.  I remember feeling torn, or maybe a little confused over what was going on. 

         Maybe now, you find yourself feeling that way.  On the one hand, this is just another day.  A minute is still 60 seconds... still 24 hours in the day.  Tomorrow will be just another day.  You will not undergo some kind of mysterious transformation in the night  that will cause hair to grow out of new orifices…  well, that might happen, but aside from that, tomorrow is just another day to you…

         However, there is still this thought tugging at your mind that this is not just another day.  There are many people that you all have talked with these past months who seem to think that this is a big deal, and that gives you reason to doubt what you want to believe about this event.  Despite the youthful bravado you might display, you are a little unsure.

I might suggest that the rest of us here know that this day means something.  We can look back over these years and mark the passage of our own lives.  Time, and its’ twin brother Experience, have given us an insight that is often dismissed by the young.  Whether it be cultural construct, or the most real of passages, your graduation marks a new direction, a distinct dispensation.

         Doubtless you have heard about what awaits you.  Its’ various names have been invoked by parents and teachers in varying tones of warning and concern, almost like a boogey man.  You have wondered what, exactly, it is or what the big deal is about.  You have heard it described in various ways.  You are surrounded by it, but you might feel like you don’t understand it.  It crouches in wait for you tomorrow…      

         In case you haven’t guessed it, I am talking about the Real World.  Oh, don’t roll your eyes.  This phrase is not, in my mind, meant to imply that your experience thus far is less real or unreal somehow.  This does not dismiss your lives up to this point as childishly unimportant.  Saying youth is somehow unimportant is a lie straight from Hell. 

Instead, I want to suggest that it is one of those things not to be feared or scoffed at, but taken seriously.  You see, graduates, it is a perspective gained after the fact... similar to the Heavenly perspective in Lewis’ Great Divorce…  you probably don’t really get it yet, but one day, I pray you will.  Right now, in your hormone-clouded, expectant minds, you probably don’t want another unknowable hanging over you… but it is what it is. 

The Real World is a place filled with the most dire of consequences and the deepest of joys.  It can be a grey town, or a bright country.  It is made up of damaged hearts, unfulfilled dreams, dashed hopes, inexpressible beauty, new life, and incredible triumphs.  The valleys are desperately, terribly low, but the mountains..  oh the mountains …  are so,so majestic…  The Real World is a different sort of reality.  It is almost like the Matrix that way.  (Pardon the lame pop cultural reference… but I am trying here!)

Now, like Morpheus, I am here to offer you a choice.  In this instance, you have no choice about whether to be a part of this particular Matrix.  The choice that I am suggesting is this: how will you live in the Matrix?  Who will you serve?  Which pill will you choose? 

On the one hand, you can go through life cautiously constructing an altar to your own ego.  You can live in a way that disregards contrary opinions and the people that express them.  You can probably find a comfortable job, maybe even a little pile of money.  You might find another person to share all of this with.  You could end up with a nice house on the edge of the grey town, alone in your own mind, after arriving safely at death. 

         On the other hand, you can choose to really live.  No, it isn’t a simple matter of breathe in – breathe out; that’s the other choice.  This is adventure.  This is hardship.  This is eternal glory and reward!!  This is ultimate reality.  But this one will cost you something.  It will require you to give up your life…  to become a literal, living sacrifice.

         WHAT!!! 

Mr. K, we didn’t ask you to come here to talk like that!!!  We wanted you to be goofy… to say some outlandish stuff to make this a fun event!  Good grief!  What are you talking about this kind of stuff for…?

         My friends, (you are my friends) I can speak no other way and give the gravity of this event its’ due.  This is a send off, a farewell, as one part of your life ends and another begins.  I would be remiss if I did not give this word of encouragement and warning.  It must be so.

         This living sacrifice thing is real stuff.  You must give up your life to gain it.  Remember Jim Elliot who said: “He is no fool who gives up what he can not keep to gain what he can not lose.”  But remember, it is a LIVING sacrifice we are talking about…

         What does this kind of thing look like? We see a single woman volunteering in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit so that she can hold the newborn crack babies and whisper to them about Jesus… in case they don’t survive.  We see another young woman vow never to enjoy a family of her own, so that she can devote her life to the poor in the slums of Calcutta.  We see a young man, new wife and children in tow, leave everything he knows to go live in a jungle, to bring the Gospel to people who would eventually kill him. 

         We see it echoed in a father who might take a job that grants a short check, but allows him to be at every little league game.  We see an elderly woman with poor eyesight studying the scriptures in order to share with her Kindergarten Sunday School class.  We see a young mom up late with crying babies, humming them to sleep with the gentle sound of old hymns.  We see it in an old man, who rises early in the morning to build a fire and to make breakfast for his wife of 50 years, until the day that she wakes up to a cold house…

         Do you see now?  Did you catch a glimpse?  These are living sacrifices…  Most of them will be forgotten by the uncaring rush of time, but I tell you that their footsteps echo on into eternity.  These are not sudden, passionate sacrifices, made once for all in a moment.  These are the stalwart, devoted hearts of people who are living for a future time.  Some of them might die young, some might live in poverty, most will bear heavy burdens… but all of them will be rewarded. 

         And THAT is what I hope for you.  I hope… and hope… and pray and hope…  that each of you will live in such a way that warrants rich eternal reward.  Oh, I ache to see you before the Throne in that day, being blessed by the Fount of all Blessing.  Truly, for Him and Through Him and To Him are all things… 

I hope that you will remember that our Heavenly Father sees all things, and rewards every action in perfect fairness… and Grace.  I hope that you will remember that He always gives the greatest rewards…  serving Him is ALWAYS worth it.  I hope that you will remember, like Anne Kiemel, that He walks every lonely road with you.  Oh, how I hope!

         So that is what this is all about today.  I am not alone in hoping so much for you.  Your parents and teachers and friends… all of us hope for you.  We are anxious to see what masterpieces you paint with the canvases of your lives.  The road is tough…  Failure is a very real possibility…  But the reward is ever before you…  Oh how we hope…

In ancient times, the LORD gave Moses a prayer of blessing for his priests to recite to the Israelites who came to give offering in the Temple.  I would like to share that with you for my closing.  It is from the book of Numbers, chapter 6.

"May The LORD bless you and keep you; the LORD make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you; the LORD turn his face toward you and give you peace."                            

Thank you.  Thank you very much.

Snow in April...

These past days, the weather here in our particular corner of the world has been a bit out of sorts.  It is the beginning of April in western Colorado, and until now, we had been enjoying the typical dry Spring...  Mud had been manageable, and it seemed that Summer was right around the corner.  But these past few days, maybe for a couple of weeks, we have been getting snow again.  Yes, the landscape is white and the high mountain I-70 passes have been in and out of order...  

Up until these storms, it seemed that maybe it was time for the construction season to enliven and begin its' annual activity.  Our nation, possibly the entire globe, is embroiled in a recession and it seemed that in our little market, we were on the verge of shaking this off.  But now, our optimism again finds itself on hold, waiting for things to dry off.  Despite what momentary set-backs this may bring, I find myself in wonder and not despair.

You see, I believe in a God Who controls these things, Who has always controlled these things.  A storm front is, for Him, less than a deep breath; a Hurricane is not even a sneeze.  It strikes me as almost hilarious that humanity as a whole has grown so modern, so convinced of our abilities to subdue the Creation with enough money and effort, that we fail to see our ultimate smallness in relation to His might.  Think with me for a minute about this....

With a few hurricanes, He compromised the economy of the mightiest of nations with an enormous (for us) repair bill.  In June 1944, a storm front postponed the greatest, most incredible amphibious attack in the history of warfare; men with their technology at the mercy of the wind and clouds.  A minor shaking of the Earth cripples entire mega-cities, so carefully constructed with all of man's ingenuity.  Even a season of inclement weather can reap the loss of thousands of jobs and the end of many businesses...  

But all of this seems so... active.  What about the passive sovereignty which He has over geography?  It is probably far more common that we recognize a catastrophe (even insurance companies would attribute those to God), but what about the rise and fall of topography and the flow of the waters over the land?  These boundaries were laid out a hundred generations ago, and there is no nation or people anywhere that is not subject to them.  

Cities are typically built in areas that are flat and near water, which in itself sounds simple, but demonstrates that men must work with what they are given.  The wealthy typically build in high places, while the poor live in the low lands, in every time and place.  The greatest of armies must always consider the battlefield itself as a determiner of success or failure, with the same ground granting favor or defeat to many armies over vast centuries.  Highways and roads are always surveyed in light of the lay-of-the-land.  Rivers and canyons must be bridged, water must be diverted or piped, ground must be leveled, on it goes.  

In all of these things, regardless of mankind's abilities, our hubris is always tempered by the Creation we encounter.  If we are honest with ourselves, we are left to realize our finitude.  We are dwarfed by the Creation, which can not even begin to demonstrate the majesty of the Creator!  

And so, when I see us scrambling to shovel out the driveways, I smile in spite of the task.  I am drawn back to my God, my Father, Who has everything under control.    

  

Why is U2 so cool?

About a week ago, someone asked me what I see in U2.  It wasn't some denial about the band's quality of music, or of their basic talent.  Instead, the questioner was prodding me to find out why I felt that this band deserved some additional honor aside from the occasional listen.  

It is funny how some questions get stuck in your head, you know?  I mean, of all the questions to get stuck on, why this?  So this weekend, I found myself on YouTube checking out their Concert videos.  I have long maintained that live performances are a truer judge of a band, and usually contain an organic quality which surpasses the studio tracks, so live stuff it was.  I was looking for something that could lend clarity to this nebulous "like."  

I confess that I can't quite nail it down.  It was an interesting search which spanned over 25 years of the band's existence.  I got to see "baby-faced Bono" and the "receding hair line" Bono.  I got to see the same songs performed over the course of these decades with varying points of emphasis and evolving presentations.  It was interesting, even uplifting.

And maybe that is what I would stick with.  By and large, U2 has always been about more than the music.  Their messages ring of more than lust, like, or the latest fad.  

One of their earliest songs "40" is still a staple in their concerts.  It is an adaptation of Psalm 40, and it is beautiful.  On one of their more recent albums, the song "Yahweh" calls on the Lord by His intimate name, and cries out for the redemption of the entire life.  "Sunday Bloody Sunday" recalls the terror of an Irish Massacre, and cries out "no more!"  

Bono confesses a longing that the pleasures of this life can not fill, that he anticipates will be quenched in the eternal hereafter in "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For."  If you can watch the rendition wherein the choir sings a Gospel version with Bono and not be stirred... 

Of course, "Where the Streets Have No Name" never ceases to affect me deeply.  The long musical intro is enough to provoke great emotion.  It's about the Heavenly city, the place where we can finally touch the Flame.  Can you remember when U2 played this song at the Superbowl halftime while the names of the 9/11 victims scrolled on the enormous screen behind them?  Could any other band have even attempted that without coming off shallow or overdone?  I watched it live on the television and nearly wept.  Do you remember hearing Bono PRAY as the song began?  

Now, believe me that I am not saying that everything they have ever produced is somehow sanctified, or that I like all their songs.  Instead, they find ways to get a Christian message into the mainstream pop music world, and they have done this for a quarter century.  They use a distinct artful sound, and have outlived the shallow, one-album-wonder status of so many chart-toppers.  

Their lead singer proclaims his faith in Christ, swaps personal effects with the Pope, and meets with heads of state on behalf of the third world African nations...  asking the wealthy nations to forgive debt which can not be repaid, and instead reach out in the name of our Lord with even more help.  He does not consider himself a holy man, but preaches a social gospel nevertheless.  

So... is that my final answer?  I can't say.  There is something about them that resonates in me, and maybe that is enough.  I like to think that it isn't so subjective, but it may be so.  Instead, I would suggest that there is something about them that, qualitatively, sets them above.  

And I just like how they sound.    

      

In a world of hunters and small block Chevys...

A few nights ago, I was able to enjoy a treasured chat session with one of my brothers from back at Bible College.  It has been almost 2 years since my attendance at Multnomah Bible College, but it seems a vague memory at times.  Speaking with my friend harkened me back to that time.  It wasn't quite such a lonely planet there... 

You see, he and I share a certain mental aptitude that is sometimes misunderstood or even ridiculed.  Words like "smart, genius, brilliant, bright, gifted" can sound like they might be compliments, and mostly they are meant as such.  But there are times that these words are nearly derogatory.  

"That guy is too smart."  "He is SOO smart."  "That guy is one of those geniuses."  "We can't all be so brilliant."  "You sound like some kind of genius."  "I'm not a genius like YOU."  "Good grief, you are brilliant."  "You are way smarter than me."  It goes on...

These may seem innocuous at first, but when a person hears this enough, it becomes nearly sinister.  To be honest, there are times when someone says these things, and you nearly wince.  It throws cold water on what could otherwise be a nice conversation. 

But why?  Why does it have that effect?  How could it?

Well, my friend understands how it is.  He is a very bright guy who is stimulated by deeper things.  He and I discussed Theology and Hermeneutics and topics for Doctoral Dissertations.  We enjoyed the electronic "talk" and both came away a little reassured.  

In most conversations we encounter, the topics are superficial and incredibly awkward to partake of.  Most social functions are tough to engage in, as we are not interested in hunting, fishing, most TV programs, pop music, most of the books on the current best-seller lists, or small block Chevys.  Believe me that we ache for connection, but alas, the outlet is not a match for our power cord. 

Even attending church is incredibly tough most weeks.  It is usually marked by grating songs of questionable theology or lyrics, contrived social times, poorly worded prayers, and anemic messages which starve from lack of preparation and are chained to three point outlines instead of the text.  In the words of my dear friend, "at church I sit on the sidelines until a tough issue comes up, at which point I am called on for a few minutes of contribution before I return to the bench."  

I liken it to a gorgeous woman who nobody talks to all night at a gathering, but suddenly, someone calls her over to their group.  She knows this is probably going to be odd, but out of a need to connect, she surrenders and joins their circle.  Then, she is asked to stand there quietly while they look at her.  When they gaze their fill, she is dismissed.  That is how being "the smart guy" feels much of the time.

It is as though you are a stranger who speaks a foreign tongue.  You are in a marketplace, without the local currency.    

It is so terribly lonely.  That is what my friend was suffering from, a malady for which we both needed treatment.  You see, he and I were nearly neighbors and we shared many a discussion.  We challenged each other, but mostly just liked one another's company.  At times, our words were few, but the fellowship was deep.  Sometimes, it was enough to walk together and look at squirrels playing in the trees.  When I moved back to Colorado, these precious times were taken from us.  

My friend's heart is far larger than his intellect, but most never see past the latter...  I feel that I could, and that he returned this humane service.  May his tribe increase!

I love teaching

I love teaching.

This evening I watched one of my favorite films, "The Emperor's Club."  Being that the movie revolves around a virtuous, much-beloved teacher, and that the ache of my heart is to be a great teacher, it strikes a chord deep within me.  It is a movie that plows through so many themes and deep issues, it provokes me anew each time I see it.  At parts of the film, I find myself filled with longing, and at other times, I find myself literally in tears.  

At the outset of the film, the teacher is standing in front of his class on the first day of school.  He is teaching Western Civilization at a private prep school, teaching the next generation of America's leaders.  He declares boldly that, "Great ambition and conquest, without contribution, is without significance.  What will your contribution be?  How will history remember you?"

As I stand in front of my small class, a small part of a school that we could hardly call prestigious (yet), I wonder whether I communicate such profound truths to my class.  I wonder whether I challenge them enough, both academically and ethically.  What kinds of people will they become?  What role do I play in this?

I don't know if other teachers go through this... this... agonizing, but I do.  Will my dear students make an impact?  Will they realize even a portion of their potential for the glory of our Lord?  Will they serve their fellow man?  Will they leave the world a better place for their having lived?  

I find myself worried that some will try to find their happiness in money, instead of in the presence of the One who is the fountainhead of all joy.  I worry that they will seek after fame, for fame's sake, and never defer the honor they receive to the One who deserves all honor and glory and praise.  I worry that they will surrender to the sense-dulling rush of the modern world, instead of being still and knowing who is Lord.  

It boils down to that simple question, you know...  namely, "Who is Lord?"  In my thinking, that is really what that teacher is asking in his questions.  Who are you serving?  If you serve yourself, you can only ever be ambitious and proud.  The odds of such a person contributing much of anything is slim.  By definition, they only take.  

This all may sound preachy.  It may even sound accusatory.  It may feel as though I am pointing my long, bony finger at my class, but that is so far from the truth.  Instead, I feel the uncomfortable impress of these questions on my own heart each day.  What is my contribution?  

It is here that the plot thickens, because to achieve the greatest effect, it can not be my effort at all.  The largest contribution that I can make is letting the Lord work through me.  I must be ever vigilant so that I do not chase after vanity, but serve as a conduit for a Greater Mind.  "Though a grain of wheat fall and die..."

So do you see my conundrum now?  I agonize over what actions I can take, what words I can speak, to help my students see past themselves.  In so doing, am I so self absorbed that I cripple the process before it begins?

Sigh.

I love teaching.

A warm house and breakfast waiting...

What is devotion?  What does that mean?  

No, I don't want the definition out of a dictionary.  I wonder about this.  You see, I am married, and I have been for about 12 years now.  I love my wife dearly.  No, I love her fiercely.  Yet, it is tough to try to sustain yourself on such an intense feeling.  Sometimes the mundane dulls down the flames to some really nice embers...

There was a time where I thought such a state was utterly wrong.  I felt as though true love and devotion should always be maddeningly passionate.  Of course, this was long before I was married myself.  I listened to a married man tell me these things, and I dismissed him out of hand for such silly talk.  Now, I feel that I have a little better notion of what he was trying to tell me.  

My Grandfather has been dead now for...  nearly 20 years.  As he was a father figure to me, I find myself thinking of him often.  He was married to his one and only wife for more than 50 years, right up until the day he died.  His widow, my spiritual giant of a grandmother, left us in the summer of 2007 to join him...  She never remarried; his until the end of her days.  

One might think that this is devotion, and it is.  It is a beautiful story.  Sharing your life with someone is devotion, but it still seems too abstract to me; too theoretical.  I find myself wanting some kind of how-to manual, something more nuts and bolts.

Over those long years, Grandma and Grandpa developed their habits of living with one another.  It happens to any couple, I suppose, and it is here that I feel the embers are kindled.  You see, after Grandpa retired, he diverted a good deal of his attentions to taking care of Grandma.  He awoke every morning and made her breakfast.  In the long Minnesota winters, he rose early in the morning, descended the stairs into the basement, and stoked the wood stove to ensure a warm house for Grandma when she arose.  A warm house and breakfast waiting...  

There is a beauty here that makes me think I am getting close to an answer.  What could be more common than bacon and eggs in the skillet?  What could be more matter-of-fact than starting a fire in a cold house?  Yet it is not these activities that define this devotion, but the intention behind them.  You decide that you will give yourself to someone through thick and thin.  You make up your mind that you will serve them and meet their needs as best you can.  You may find yourself in great and terrible straits, clinging to one another.  Sometimes it's as simple as getting up and trying not to burn the bacon.  

For some reason, this resonates with me.  The everyday things imbued with the deep dignity of a steadfast heart: the common sanctified in love, the heroic sacrifice of the dutiful life.  

One winter morning, Grandma woke up to a cold house.  She rolled over in bed, to find his body present, but his spirit gone.  Devoted to the end...

To be or not to be... Dad

Today, was/is Sunday.  The missus and I slept as long as the kids would let us, got up, and went to church.  I lovingly clutched my stainless steel coffee cup, read my Greek New Testament, and tried to listen to the sermon throughout the service.  

As we were leaving the Big House (as I like to think of it), I realized that it was ridiculously nice outside.  Blue sky, warm, western Colorado...  For those cold souls who haven't seen it, I just don't have words.  

We got home and had a little lunch, and an uncomfortable thought began to occur to me.  I am a part-time teacher at that private school my kids attend, and I am behind on getting all my grading done.  However, this is one of those days that a good dad would probably find some kind of outdoor activity to partake of with his family.  Lo, as Frost saw the two roads diverging before him, so was I... 

I have a long history of replacing the best with the good and getting wrapped up in anything but being a dad.  I have had good jobs full of responsibility, challenging classes at college, ministries, etc...  All seem to cry out with great needs or great challenges...  All good things, but not best...  

Responsibility...  the disapproval of my unrelenting students...  the pressure...  I should be grading stuff... 

But... the sun is shining.  The kids haven't seen much of the sick dad-guy this last week...  Growing up fast... 

We went to the park.  Nononono, We WALKED to the park.  And the kids climbed some trees...  It was cool.

Therapy... and fathering?

This weekend, I have getting my feet back under me after a week of illness.  It has been a pretty miserable week, let me tell you! 

So on Saturday, the family patriarch (Big Papa) came to me and informed me that a small landslide had blocked a steep, narrow road which had been pioneered up a mountain several years ago on his property.  He had discovered it while out riding his ATV.  He asked me if I might be interested in using a piece of equipment to go clear this off for him.

Being a man of insight and wisdom, he knows that this is all the invitation that I need to go operate equipment.  Of course, I said yes.  Shortly after, I was on a hillside operating a Cat 430E backhoe, assaulting a pile of mud and debris.  The stuff was sloppy.  The road was treacherous as a result of ice.  The mud on top of the ice didn't help.  My young son was sitting on my lap.  It was several hours well spent.  

Some men get crazy about hunting, or fishing, or a small block Chevy...  For me, it's the love of the yellow iron.  It always has been.  The nostalgia gets pretty thick as I remember sitting on my own father's lap as he operated a John Deere Grader back in Northern Minnesota.  Dad was a pretty amazing operator, and I got to go share in that with him.  

Will my boy remember this weekend and those couple hours with me?  I dunno.  Knowing how bright he is, and how well I remember things from that age; probably.  Even if he doesn't, I will.  It will mean something to me as I recollect that I tried to share these things with him; that I tried to share some of my life and joys with him.  If there is one great truth that I have been introduced to it is this: fathers teach their sons what they know (whether they realize it or not).  

At one point, I let the little guy take the sticks and throw some dirt around.  He did me proud with his abilities... He is digging away and declares rather precociously "Dad, this is one of the coolest days of my life, ever."  

Yeah, I think that he will probably remember.