September 12, 2008
Stepping into the Ring
In honor of the Women of Faith Conference in Philadelphia this weekend and as a message of love and hope to my friends (and your friends) who have cancer, I wanted to share this powerful video by dramatist Nicole Johnson. I saw her perform this skit two years ago and in a stadium of 50,000 women there wasn't a dry eye in the house.
September 9, 2008
THAT'S HIM?!
In my opinion, Penn State on a football Saturday is as close to heaven on earth as exists...anywhere! Maybe it’s the 100,000+ blue and white clad fans that crowd the streets of state college and fields outside Beaver Stadium for the pre-game festivities. Or the beautiful Penn State campus. Or the world-class Blue Band with their march into the stadium and game-determining flip of the drum major. Or the Nittany Lion who riles up the enthusiastic fans and keeps them eating out of his paw for the entire game; Or watching one of the best college football teams ever, coached by a living legend—Joe Paterno.
It’s probably a combination of all this and more. Tradition. History. Competition. Pride. Community. Penn State’s got it. No matter how many times I visit Happy Valley I’m choked up by it all.
And I didn’t even attend Penn State! My introduction to all things blue and white occurred when I met my husband who’s a proud PSU grad.
This past weekend my sister and her friend flew up to join us for a football weekend. It was such fun to introduce the newbies to State and visit all the “must-see” sights. My husband reveled in his role as ambassador of his old stomping grounds. He was a font of knowledge, providing an endless stream of interesting details and tidbits. (Although, how he remembers which window belonged to the dorm room he lived in for one semester 25 years ago or how many books are in the library, yet can’t remember which of our kids likes ham sandwiches for lunch and which turkey, is beyond me! But I digress…) And of course our visit was topped off by a spectacular win…Go State!
But the real treat of the weekend was visiting my husband’s favorite watering hole, The Phyrst. Empirically there’s nothing alluring about this small, dark, grungy basement pub. But the Phyrst is a Penn State tradition complete with table wars, PSU cheers and singing—lots of singing! On Saturday nights one can witness another PSU living legend: The Phyrst Phamily Band. This five-piece band plays American/Irish folk music and has been a PSU staple since the early 1970s.
We sat at our table and waited. Soon enough the Physrt Phamily took the stage and we were all swept up in the excitement and revelry. At one point, my husband leaned over and pointed to the graying band member playing some sort of washboard/horn/tambourine thing-y slung over his shoulders.
“That’s Graham Spanier,” he said.
“You mean the man playing the washboard is Penn State’s president?” I asked, amazed.
“Yep. That’s him.”
I couldn’t believe it. The quiet, unassuming guy on stage playing a silly musical contraption in a sweaty, loud bar late on a Saturday night was the President of one of the nation’s largest and most prestigious universities. Didn’t he have an ivy-covered house to retreat to? Shouldn’t he be rubbing elbows with academic muckety-muks or authoring a journal article? Wasn’t he concerned about his distinguished reputation?
And when they introduced the band members he was introduced as simply, “Graham.” Not Dr. Graham Spanier, University President, holder of many degrees, distinguished researcher and scholar, or all-around important and powerful guy. No, he was just Graham. A regular guy who likes to connect with kids, entertain alumni and play music. If my husband hadn’t pointed him out, I would have never known who he was.
And it was there, watching Graham Spanier play in the Phyrst Phamily band, that I thought of Jesus.
Jesus was certainly a “credentialed” man. He was after all God’s son and Savior of all mankind. The Jewish people expected the Messiah to arrive with glory and pomp and circumstance. He'd establish a kingdom on earth. They probably expected he'd live the royal, insulated life of a king or high priest.
But Jesus didn’t wield His power, toss about His credentials or hobnob with the elite. Frankly, He didn’t do much that people expected the Messiah would do.
Instead He befriended commoners like fishermen, tax collectors and widows. And reached out to undesirables like prostitutes, Gentiles, Samaritans and lepers. I imagine if there were colleges at the time, you’d find him on campus with the students.
But Jesus wasn’t just a cool dude who mixed it up with the common folk. He wasn’t just a great teacher or miraculous healer. He was, and is, God incarnate. The Creator of the universe. The One who was there “in the beginning” and will be there in the end.
Out of an act of love too great for us to fathom, He was born a helpless baby and died as a criminal nailed to a cross. In between he lived among His people. He chose to love up close instead of rule from afar. To relinquish power instead of claim it. To serve instead of be served. To teach instead of dominate. To redeem instead of condemn.
If we lived in Jesus’ day and saw a crowd by the lake, one of us might lean over to the other and say, “See the man over there? That’s Jesus.”
And we'd respond amazed, “You mean the one with the dirty sandals and tattered tunic? The one with the fisherman, talking to Gentiles? He’s the One who’s been prophesied—the Messiah?”
“Yep. That’s Him.”
Sometimes all it takes is someone to point Him out.
It’s probably a combination of all this and more. Tradition. History. Competition. Pride. Community. Penn State’s got it. No matter how many times I visit Happy Valley I’m choked up by it all.
And I didn’t even attend Penn State! My introduction to all things blue and white occurred when I met my husband who’s a proud PSU grad.
This past weekend my sister and her friend flew up to join us for a football weekend. It was such fun to introduce the newbies to State and visit all the “must-see” sights. My husband reveled in his role as ambassador of his old stomping grounds. He was a font of knowledge, providing an endless stream of interesting details and tidbits. (Although, how he remembers which window belonged to the dorm room he lived in for one semester 25 years ago or how many books are in the library, yet can’t remember which of our kids likes ham sandwiches for lunch and which turkey, is beyond me! But I digress…) And of course our visit was topped off by a spectacular win…Go State!
But the real treat of the weekend was visiting my husband’s favorite watering hole, The Phyrst. Empirically there’s nothing alluring about this small, dark, grungy basement pub. But the Phyrst is a Penn State tradition complete with table wars, PSU cheers and singing—lots of singing! On Saturday nights one can witness another PSU living legend: The Phyrst Phamily Band. This five-piece band plays American/Irish folk music and has been a PSU staple since the early 1970s.
We sat at our table and waited. Soon enough the Physrt Phamily took the stage and we were all swept up in the excitement and revelry. At one point, my husband leaned over and pointed to the graying band member playing some sort of washboard/horn/tambourine thing-y slung over his shoulders.
“That’s Graham Spanier,” he said.
“You mean the man playing the washboard is Penn State’s president?” I asked, amazed.
“Yep. That’s him.”
I couldn’t believe it. The quiet, unassuming guy on stage playing a silly musical contraption in a sweaty, loud bar late on a Saturday night was the President of one of the nation’s largest and most prestigious universities. Didn’t he have an ivy-covered house to retreat to? Shouldn’t he be rubbing elbows with academic muckety-muks or authoring a journal article? Wasn’t he concerned about his distinguished reputation?
And when they introduced the band members he was introduced as simply, “Graham.” Not Dr. Graham Spanier, University President, holder of many degrees, distinguished researcher and scholar, or all-around important and powerful guy. No, he was just Graham. A regular guy who likes to connect with kids, entertain alumni and play music. If my husband hadn’t pointed him out, I would have never known who he was.
And it was there, watching Graham Spanier play in the Phyrst Phamily band, that I thought of Jesus.
Jesus was certainly a “credentialed” man. He was after all God’s son and Savior of all mankind. The Jewish people expected the Messiah to arrive with glory and pomp and circumstance. He'd establish a kingdom on earth. They probably expected he'd live the royal, insulated life of a king or high priest.
But Jesus didn’t wield His power, toss about His credentials or hobnob with the elite. Frankly, He didn’t do much that people expected the Messiah would do.
Instead He befriended commoners like fishermen, tax collectors and widows. And reached out to undesirables like prostitutes, Gentiles, Samaritans and lepers. I imagine if there were colleges at the time, you’d find him on campus with the students.
But Jesus wasn’t just a cool dude who mixed it up with the common folk. He wasn’t just a great teacher or miraculous healer. He was, and is, God incarnate. The Creator of the universe. The One who was there “in the beginning” and will be there in the end.
Out of an act of love too great for us to fathom, He was born a helpless baby and died as a criminal nailed to a cross. In between he lived among His people. He chose to love up close instead of rule from afar. To relinquish power instead of claim it. To serve instead of be served. To teach instead of dominate. To redeem instead of condemn.
If we lived in Jesus’ day and saw a crowd by the lake, one of us might lean over to the other and say, “See the man over there? That’s Jesus.”
And we'd respond amazed, “You mean the one with the dirty sandals and tattered tunic? The one with the fisherman, talking to Gentiles? He’s the One who’s been prophesied—the Messiah?”
“Yep. That’s Him.”
Sometimes all it takes is someone to point Him out.
September 8, 2008
Aw, Thanks!
I’m honored and flattered to receive my first blog award from Shane at Heart Reflections.
Thanks, Shane! Be sure to check out her blog. She's a thoughtful, inspiring writer.
I visited the blogs of the others who Shane awarded and was honored to be included among such godly, eloquent women.
Now it’s my turn to pass on the award to some of my favorite blogs:
~ Mary DeMuth @ Relevant Blog
~ Elaine @ Peace for the Journey
~ Chanda @ Thursday’s Child
~ Susan @ Runner Mom
~ Cheryl @ Cheryl’s R&R
~ Debbie @ Utterly Chaotic
Some of them are serious, some are lighter, but all are written by wonderful Christian women. Click over and pay them a visit.
Here are the rules for the award.
Plus…Here’s a shout out to some of my new writer friends who are thinking about starting their own blogs. I won’t name names, but you know who you are. I’m waiting for you!
Thanks, Shane! Be sure to check out her blog. She's a thoughtful, inspiring writer.
I visited the blogs of the others who Shane awarded and was honored to be included among such godly, eloquent women.
Now it’s my turn to pass on the award to some of my favorite blogs:
~ Mary DeMuth @ Relevant Blog
~ Elaine @ Peace for the Journey
~ Chanda @ Thursday’s Child
~ Susan @ Runner Mom
~ Cheryl @ Cheryl’s R&R
~ Debbie @ Utterly Chaotic
Some of them are serious, some are lighter, but all are written by wonderful Christian women. Click over and pay them a visit.
Here are the rules for the award.
Plus…Here’s a shout out to some of my new writer friends who are thinking about starting their own blogs. I won’t name names, but you know who you are. I’m waiting for you!
September 4, 2008
The Makings of a Best Seller - Part 2 of 2
Thanks for stopping back. Today's post is a continuation of my last one, The Makings of a Best Seller - Part 1. You can scroll down to read that first or click here.
The truth is we are spiritually famished. But with so many enticing choices from which to choose, we can’t always discern the healthy food from the junk.
As Christians, it’s clear where we find our spiritual food. In John 6, Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.” (v. 35) Even those with a passing knowledge of the Bible are familiar with this verse. Yet, knowing that Jesus is the bread of life and being filled by Him are two very different things.
When we were infants we relied on our parents for everything. They sat us in a high chair and spoon-fed us baby food. They carried us from place to place. But in time we started to crawl, then toddle. Eventually we learned to walk without falling, run on the playground, ride a bike, cross the street safely and even climb a mountain.
Our lives as believers are like this. We start as baby Christians, relying on our pastors to spoon-feed us the gospel. Maybe we crawl to church or toddle to Bible study, but all the while we expect others to guide us, teach us and cut the Scriptures into palatable, bit-sized chunks. But God doesn’t want us remain spiritual toddlers. He wants us to grow and mature, “attaining the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.” (Eph. 4:13)
For if we don’t grow in the grace and knowledge of Jesus, what version of truth becomes our anchor? How can we separate the fancy rhetoric that tickles our ears from godly teaching that feeds our souls? It’s probably not by the numbers of people gathering around to hear the message.
“For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths.” (2 Tim 4:3-4)
I'm not suggesting, even for a moment, Christians should only read books on some “approved” reading list. Censorship is ridiculous. But with so many ideologies and philosophies competing for our attention, if we’re not grounded in Scripture, what is our basis for discernment? How do we separate the wheat from the chaff? The banquet feast from spiritual fast food? The real Messiah from false prophets?
By all accounts, Randy Pausch, the Carnegie Mellon professor who penned the best-selling, The Last Lecture, was a remarkable man who lived life to its fullest. He accomplished more in 47 years than most of us will in a hundred. The New York Times ran his obituary a few weeks ago which concluded, “Dr. Pausch gave practical advice in his lecture, avoiding spiritual and religious matters. He did, however, mention that he experienced a near-deathbed conversion: he switched and bought a Macintosh computer.”
How incredibly sad someone so gifted, so accomplished and so influential missed the very point of it all. And how tragic that millions of readers have turned to him looking for answers. And are left looking at themselves.
Despite thousands of best-sellers saying otherwise, there is no inside knowledge, never-revealed-before secret or quick fix that holds the keys to a better, improved us. The idea that we possess, within ourselves, the power to transform our lives is a myth. Life transforming change can only be found in one place: Jesus.
And it’s all detailed in the best selling book of ALL TIME: the Bible.
Meet Jesus in its pages. Grow in grace. And find an anchor to keep from being “tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching...” (Eph. 4:14)
Read all you want, just make sure you know where real truth lies.
The truth is we are spiritually famished. But with so many enticing choices from which to choose, we can’t always discern the healthy food from the junk.
As Christians, it’s clear where we find our spiritual food. In John 6, Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.” (v. 35) Even those with a passing knowledge of the Bible are familiar with this verse. Yet, knowing that Jesus is the bread of life and being filled by Him are two very different things.
When we were infants we relied on our parents for everything. They sat us in a high chair and spoon-fed us baby food. They carried us from place to place. But in time we started to crawl, then toddle. Eventually we learned to walk without falling, run on the playground, ride a bike, cross the street safely and even climb a mountain.
Our lives as believers are like this. We start as baby Christians, relying on our pastors to spoon-feed us the gospel. Maybe we crawl to church or toddle to Bible study, but all the while we expect others to guide us, teach us and cut the Scriptures into palatable, bit-sized chunks. But God doesn’t want us remain spiritual toddlers. He wants us to grow and mature, “attaining the whole measure of the fullness of Christ.” (Eph. 4:13)
For if we don’t grow in the grace and knowledge of Jesus, what version of truth becomes our anchor? How can we separate the fancy rhetoric that tickles our ears from godly teaching that feeds our souls? It’s probably not by the numbers of people gathering around to hear the message.
“For the time will come when men will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear. They will turn their ears away from the truth and turn aside to myths.” (2 Tim 4:3-4)
I'm not suggesting, even for a moment, Christians should only read books on some “approved” reading list. Censorship is ridiculous. But with so many ideologies and philosophies competing for our attention, if we’re not grounded in Scripture, what is our basis for discernment? How do we separate the wheat from the chaff? The banquet feast from spiritual fast food? The real Messiah from false prophets?
By all accounts, Randy Pausch, the Carnegie Mellon professor who penned the best-selling, The Last Lecture, was a remarkable man who lived life to its fullest. He accomplished more in 47 years than most of us will in a hundred. The New York Times ran his obituary a few weeks ago which concluded, “Dr. Pausch gave practical advice in his lecture, avoiding spiritual and religious matters. He did, however, mention that he experienced a near-deathbed conversion: he switched and bought a Macintosh computer.”
How incredibly sad someone so gifted, so accomplished and so influential missed the very point of it all. And how tragic that millions of readers have turned to him looking for answers. And are left looking at themselves.
Despite thousands of best-sellers saying otherwise, there is no inside knowledge, never-revealed-before secret or quick fix that holds the keys to a better, improved us. The idea that we possess, within ourselves, the power to transform our lives is a myth. Life transforming change can only be found in one place: Jesus.
And it’s all detailed in the best selling book of ALL TIME: the Bible.
Meet Jesus in its pages. Grow in grace. And find an anchor to keep from being “tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching...” (Eph. 4:14)
Read all you want, just make sure you know where real truth lies.
September 2, 2008
The Makings of a Best Seller - Part 1 of 2
Since it's back-to-school time and our minds are back on academics, I'm writing on a "heavier" topic than I've dealt with in a while. This is part one of two.
“...until we all...become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ. Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of men in their deceitful scheming.” Ephesians 4:13-14
If I asked you to name your favorite hobbies, I bet one your answers would be “reading.” The sales of Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble testify to the fact that Americans love to read. Today book clubs are practically a requirement for any suburban mom’s resume. A glance at the NY Times Bestseller lists paints a picture of what we’re reading. And it’s not just fiction that captures our fancies, but non-fiction too.
Judging by the non-fiction best-seller lists we’re looking for others who’ll help us make some aspect of “us” better. We want improved bodies, finances, careers, dinner menus, children, pets, relationships and most of all, improved selves.
Presently, best-selling advice books include The Secret, (the law of attraction as a key to getting what you want), The Last Lecture, (thoughts on “seizing every moment”), The Power of Now, (a guide to personal growth and spiritual enlightenment) and Soul Wisdom, (how to harness the power of the soul for healing and personal transformation).
It's obvious: we’re hungry. We’re searching for that “thing”; that philosophy; that path which leads to a secret door in ourselves we always felt existed but could never find. We hold out hope this time we’ll discover the answer we’ve been looking for.
In the book Eat, Pray, Love, which has been on the best-seller list for 83 weeks, the author takes a year-long journey in an effort to heal herself from deep emotional and spiritual pain. Traveling to Italy, India and Indonesia, she searches for a balm to soothe her soul. Along the way, instead of ascribing to any one religion or philosophy, she takes her favorite bits from the many beliefs, teachings and philosophies she encounters and concocts her own spiritual soup.
The book spawned two Oprah shows and propelled the author, Elizabeth Gilbert, into the role of self-help guru offering a short-cut to spiritual truth. Thousands of devotees, mostly women, ascribe to her “teachings.” Many have even retraced the steps of her trip.
Many reading this post have read Gilbert's book. Is hers the truth we're looking for?
There is no doubt, we're spiritually famished, but with so many enticing choices from which to choose, it's not always easy to discern the healthy food from the junk.
As Christians, it’s clear where we find our spiritual food. In John 6, Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.” (v. 35) Even those with a passing knowledge of the Bible are familiar with this verse. Yet, knowing that Jesus is the bread of life and being filled by Him are two very different things.
...to be continued.
“...until we all...become mature, attaining to the whole measure of the fullness of Christ. Then we will no longer be infants, tossed back and forth by the waves, and blown here and there by every wind of teaching and by the cunning and craftiness of men in their deceitful scheming.” Ephesians 4:13-14
If I asked you to name your favorite hobbies, I bet one your answers would be “reading.” The sales of Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble testify to the fact that Americans love to read. Today book clubs are practically a requirement for any suburban mom’s resume. A glance at the NY Times Bestseller lists paints a picture of what we’re reading. And it’s not just fiction that captures our fancies, but non-fiction too.
Judging by the non-fiction best-seller lists we’re looking for others who’ll help us make some aspect of “us” better. We want improved bodies, finances, careers, dinner menus, children, pets, relationships and most of all, improved selves.
Presently, best-selling advice books include The Secret, (the law of attraction as a key to getting what you want), The Last Lecture, (thoughts on “seizing every moment”), The Power of Now, (a guide to personal growth and spiritual enlightenment) and Soul Wisdom, (how to harness the power of the soul for healing and personal transformation).
It's obvious: we’re hungry. We’re searching for that “thing”; that philosophy; that path which leads to a secret door in ourselves we always felt existed but could never find. We hold out hope this time we’ll discover the answer we’ve been looking for.
In the book Eat, Pray, Love, which has been on the best-seller list for 83 weeks, the author takes a year-long journey in an effort to heal herself from deep emotional and spiritual pain. Traveling to Italy, India and Indonesia, she searches for a balm to soothe her soul. Along the way, instead of ascribing to any one religion or philosophy, she takes her favorite bits from the many beliefs, teachings and philosophies she encounters and concocts her own spiritual soup.
The book spawned two Oprah shows and propelled the author, Elizabeth Gilbert, into the role of self-help guru offering a short-cut to spiritual truth. Thousands of devotees, mostly women, ascribe to her “teachings.” Many have even retraced the steps of her trip.
Many reading this post have read Gilbert's book. Is hers the truth we're looking for?
There is no doubt, we're spiritually famished, but with so many enticing choices from which to choose, it's not always easy to discern the healthy food from the junk.
As Christians, it’s clear where we find our spiritual food. In John 6, Jesus declared, “I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty.” (v. 35) Even those with a passing knowledge of the Bible are familiar with this verse. Yet, knowing that Jesus is the bread of life and being filled by Him are two very different things.
...to be continued.
August 29, 2008
A Day at the US Open
The Summer Olympics are fading out of view. The confetti from the Democratic National Convention is being swept away. But, the grand daddy of all end-of-summer events, the one I excitedly await every year, is currently in full swing: The US Open tennis tournament in New York.
Being a tennis player and fan, it’s one sporting event I’ll voluntarily watch on TV. Best of all, since we live within two hours of New York, attending the Open has become an annual tradition.
Walking around the grounds of the US Tennis Center is unlike any sporting experience EVER! There’s a New York City vibe about the whole experience. The crowds are civilized and almost genteel. Since most of the people watching, play the sport, you’ll easily strike up a conversation with a stranger to compare playing notes.
It’s by far the best value in sports, too. For the price of a $60 ticket, you can walk between three stadium and a dozen outdoor courts to watch the most famous tennis players in the world. For many matches, you can sit so close you see the fuzz on the ball and the sweat on the players’ brows.
It is just awesome!!
Yesterday was our big day to attend the Open. I bought the tickets months ago when they first went on sale (even so, our seats for the main stadium had their own zip code!). The night before we left, travel plans were coordinated, train schedules researched, child care arrangements finalized and event-gear, like binocular, snacks and water, were packed. I was rushed, but I was sure I’d crossed my “t’s” and dotted my “i’s.”
The trip up on the train is always lots of fun. Tennis fans overtake public transportation, replacing the usual tourists and business travelers. The excitement builds as the US Tennis Center nears.
Since my friends and I are involved in our local tennis community, we always see people we know. This year was no exception. As my husband, my tennis partner and I made our way to the US Open complex with the 35,000 other people attending yesterday, we amazingly ran into two groups of friends who had just arrived by the same train as we had. Standing under the banner, “Welcome to the US Open,” we paused to chat, bubbling with excitement for the day ahead of us.
It was in that moment of light-hearted banter, my blood ran cold. I realized in horror I had forgot something.
Our tickets!!!!
The three of them were sitting at home on my desk. In the chaos of crossing those “t’s” and dotting those “i’s,” I’d completely forgotten the most important detail. What could we do? I pulled my husband aside. He took one look at the horrified look on my face knew said, “Don’t even tell me what I think you’re going to say.”
Going home and coming back would take at least four hours, so that was obviously out of the question. I had no proof with me I’d even bought the tickets. I was ready to cry that I’d ruined the day for my husband and my friend. My mind raced, “Think. Think. Think.” There had to be an answer. Then an idea came. One of the friends we had just run into had one of the four tickets I’d purchased. Led by my tennis partner who can sweet talk her way into anything and armed with one of our tickets as proof that our story was hopefully credible, we went to the ticket office and pled our case.
Luckily, thankfully, the story has a happy ending. With our one ticket, my husband’s credit card, my feeble forms of ID (like my USTA card…how did I remember THAT and not the tickets) and some verbal information, the ticket agent could identify my purchase and issued new tickets! Hooray!!!
Crisis averted! But what are the chances at the very moment I realized my mistake, we ran into the only person who had any physical proof that our tickets even existed! (Thank you, Lord!)
In the end we had a wonderful day. We bopped from court to court watching spectacular tennis and having a great time. A highlight was watching the doubles players (like the Bryan brothers, pictured.) We arrived home late last night, exhausted but filled from the day.
I’ll be following the US Open closely on TV in the days ahead. And I already look forward to next year’s trip. But something tells me I won’t be in charge of tickets!
As stupid as I felt for my mistake, I know I’m not the first (or last) person to do something so dumb and potentially disastrous. I’ve heard stories of parents leaving their children places. What have you forgotten or left at home, only to realize in a moment of horror, “Oh, no!”?
Happy Labor Day!
Being a tennis player and fan, it’s one sporting event I’ll voluntarily watch on TV. Best of all, since we live within two hours of New York, attending the Open has become an annual tradition.
Walking around the grounds of the US Tennis Center is unlike any sporting experience EVER! There’s a New York City vibe about the whole experience. The crowds are civilized and almost genteel. Since most of the people watching, play the sport, you’ll easily strike up a conversation with a stranger to compare playing notes.
It’s by far the best value in sports, too. For the price of a $60 ticket, you can walk between three stadium and a dozen outdoor courts to watch the most famous tennis players in the world. For many matches, you can sit so close you see the fuzz on the ball and the sweat on the players’ brows.
It is just awesome!!
Yesterday was our big day to attend the Open. I bought the tickets months ago when they first went on sale (even so, our seats for the main stadium had their own zip code!). The night before we left, travel plans were coordinated, train schedules researched, child care arrangements finalized and event-gear, like binocular, snacks and water, were packed. I was rushed, but I was sure I’d crossed my “t’s” and dotted my “i’s.”
The trip up on the train is always lots of fun. Tennis fans overtake public transportation, replacing the usual tourists and business travelers. The excitement builds as the US Tennis Center nears.
Since my friends and I are involved in our local tennis community, we always see people we know. This year was no exception. As my husband, my tennis partner and I made our way to the US Open complex with the 35,000 other people attending yesterday, we amazingly ran into two groups of friends who had just arrived by the same train as we had. Standing under the banner, “Welcome to the US Open,” we paused to chat, bubbling with excitement for the day ahead of us.
It was in that moment of light-hearted banter, my blood ran cold. I realized in horror I had forgot something.
Our tickets!!!!
The three of them were sitting at home on my desk. In the chaos of crossing those “t’s” and dotting those “i’s,” I’d completely forgotten the most important detail. What could we do? I pulled my husband aside. He took one look at the horrified look on my face knew said, “Don’t even tell me what I think you’re going to say.”
Going home and coming back would take at least four hours, so that was obviously out of the question. I had no proof with me I’d even bought the tickets. I was ready to cry that I’d ruined the day for my husband and my friend. My mind raced, “Think. Think. Think.” There had to be an answer. Then an idea came. One of the friends we had just run into had one of the four tickets I’d purchased. Led by my tennis partner who can sweet talk her way into anything and armed with one of our tickets as proof that our story was hopefully credible, we went to the ticket office and pled our case.
Luckily, thankfully, the story has a happy ending. With our one ticket, my husband’s credit card, my feeble forms of ID (like my USTA card…how did I remember THAT and not the tickets) and some verbal information, the ticket agent could identify my purchase and issued new tickets! Hooray!!!
Crisis averted! But what are the chances at the very moment I realized my mistake, we ran into the only person who had any physical proof that our tickets even existed! (Thank you, Lord!)
In the end we had a wonderful day. We bopped from court to court watching spectacular tennis and having a great time. A highlight was watching the doubles players (like the Bryan brothers, pictured.) We arrived home late last night, exhausted but filled from the day.
I’ll be following the US Open closely on TV in the days ahead. And I already look forward to next year’s trip. But something tells me I won’t be in charge of tickets!
As stupid as I felt for my mistake, I know I’m not the first (or last) person to do something so dumb and potentially disastrous. I’ve heard stories of parents leaving their children places. What have you forgotten or left at home, only to realize in a moment of horror, “Oh, no!”?
Happy Labor Day!
August 25, 2008
The Magician's Folly
It’s hard to be a Christian and not stumble across C.S. Lewis. Next to Jesus, he might be the most quoted (or over-quoted) Christian. Of course there’s a reason, at least in my opinion: He reveals obtuse biblical truths with profound simplicity and razor-sharp insight. If you haven’t already, check out Mere Christianity, The Great Divorce or The Screwtape Letters. Or even one of the many books available that present a kind of “greatest hits” of his writings.
Right now, my son and I are reading The Magician’s Nephew, the first book in the Narnia series, together. In its pages we’re experiencing Narnia before it was and as it came to be.
As in all the Narnia books, Lewis masterfully weaves profound biblical truths and observations into a delightful, fantastical tale. This book's themes of creation, innocence, original sin and temptation, obviously parallel the Creation story. Last night, we came across a section that wonderfully describes free will. I wanted to share it with you.
Selfish, arrogant Uncle Andrew, the titular magician, is carried (against his will) by the magic he toyed with on Earth, into the newly-formed world of Narnia. Once there he’s smitten with Narnia's magic and sees endless ways it will benefit him. He’ll be validated in the eyes of his critics who belittled him. He’ll get rich from the unbounded commercial possibilities. And he’ll never age in this vibrant land.
Also in Narnia are the main characters, young Digory and Polly. Unlike Uncle Andrew, their attention is not on themselves, but on the wonder of the world being created around them. They marvel as the Lion sings Narnia into existence: light, stars, mountains, trees, rivers, and lots of talking animals and creatures. What was a dark, silent world moments before, becomes a glorious cacophony of sights and sounds. The children stand enthralled amidst it all.
It didn’t, however, make the same impression on Uncle Andrew. “For what you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing: it also depends on what sort of person you are.” Although he heard the song as it was first sung, it made him think and feel things he didn’t want to. Intellectually, he thought a singing lion was ridiculous, so he tried very hard to pretend it was just roaring. Soon enough he succeeded and could hear only that. When the animals eventually spoke, all he heard were snarls, howls and growls. What was paradise to the others in Narnia became terror for him. He became practically catatonic.
Eventually Polly asked Aslan if he could do something to “unfrighten” Uncle Andrew. Aslan replies:
“He thinks great folly child,” said Aslan. “This world is bursting with life for these few days because the song with which I called it into life still hangs in the air and rumbles in the ground. It will not be for so long. But I cannot tell that to this old sinner, and I cannot comfort him either; he has made himself unable to hear my voice. If I spoke to him, he would hear only growlings and roarings. Oh, Adam’s sons, how cleverly you defend yourselves against all that might do you good!”
C.S. Lewis probably knew firsthand what Aslan spoke of. From the age of 15 to 33, Lewis lived as a self-proclaimed atheist. As a brilliant scholar and thinker, he allowed his intellect and skepticism to silence God’s voice. Even though Lewis gave up on God, God didn’t give up on him. And one day, he reluctantly but dramatically opened the door and let Christ in. I imagine the words of Amazing Grace resonated deep within: “I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind, but now I see.”
How many have chosen the way of C.S. Lewis and Uncle Andrew. God is all around, in the grandest of sceneries and the smallest of details, but they choose not to see and eventually, they can’t. Christianity makes them uncomfortable. It seems foolish, like a well-spun fable.
I know that scenario. For many years I let my intellectualism and cynicism keep God away. Like Uncle Andrew, I tuned God out to the point of being ambivalent at best and hostile at worst.
Yet, as Aslan explained, free will means God loves us enough He won’t force us to come to Him. If we choose to wear the cloak of darkness, he'll let us.
How thankful I am that although I kept the door tightly shut, Jesus waited patiently for the day I finally opened it.
If you haven’t let Him in, He’s waiting at your door as well.
“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.” Revelation 3:20
Right now, my son and I are reading The Magician’s Nephew, the first book in the Narnia series, together. In its pages we’re experiencing Narnia before it was and as it came to be.
As in all the Narnia books, Lewis masterfully weaves profound biblical truths and observations into a delightful, fantastical tale. This book's themes of creation, innocence, original sin and temptation, obviously parallel the Creation story. Last night, we came across a section that wonderfully describes free will. I wanted to share it with you.
Selfish, arrogant Uncle Andrew, the titular magician, is carried (against his will) by the magic he toyed with on Earth, into the newly-formed world of Narnia. Once there he’s smitten with Narnia's magic and sees endless ways it will benefit him. He’ll be validated in the eyes of his critics who belittled him. He’ll get rich from the unbounded commercial possibilities. And he’ll never age in this vibrant land.
Also in Narnia are the main characters, young Digory and Polly. Unlike Uncle Andrew, their attention is not on themselves, but on the wonder of the world being created around them. They marvel as the Lion sings Narnia into existence: light, stars, mountains, trees, rivers, and lots of talking animals and creatures. What was a dark, silent world moments before, becomes a glorious cacophony of sights and sounds. The children stand enthralled amidst it all.
It didn’t, however, make the same impression on Uncle Andrew. “For what you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing: it also depends on what sort of person you are.” Although he heard the song as it was first sung, it made him think and feel things he didn’t want to. Intellectually, he thought a singing lion was ridiculous, so he tried very hard to pretend it was just roaring. Soon enough he succeeded and could hear only that. When the animals eventually spoke, all he heard were snarls, howls and growls. What was paradise to the others in Narnia became terror for him. He became practically catatonic.
Eventually Polly asked Aslan if he could do something to “unfrighten” Uncle Andrew. Aslan replies:
“He thinks great folly child,” said Aslan. “This world is bursting with life for these few days because the song with which I called it into life still hangs in the air and rumbles in the ground. It will not be for so long. But I cannot tell that to this old sinner, and I cannot comfort him either; he has made himself unable to hear my voice. If I spoke to him, he would hear only growlings and roarings. Oh, Adam’s sons, how cleverly you defend yourselves against all that might do you good!”
C.S. Lewis probably knew firsthand what Aslan spoke of. From the age of 15 to 33, Lewis lived as a self-proclaimed atheist. As a brilliant scholar and thinker, he allowed his intellect and skepticism to silence God’s voice. Even though Lewis gave up on God, God didn’t give up on him. And one day, he reluctantly but dramatically opened the door and let Christ in. I imagine the words of Amazing Grace resonated deep within: “I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind, but now I see.”
How many have chosen the way of C.S. Lewis and Uncle Andrew. God is all around, in the grandest of sceneries and the smallest of details, but they choose not to see and eventually, they can’t. Christianity makes them uncomfortable. It seems foolish, like a well-spun fable.
I know that scenario. For many years I let my intellectualism and cynicism keep God away. Like Uncle Andrew, I tuned God out to the point of being ambivalent at best and hostile at worst.
Yet, as Aslan explained, free will means God loves us enough He won’t force us to come to Him. If we choose to wear the cloak of darkness, he'll let us.
How thankful I am that although I kept the door tightly shut, Jesus waited patiently for the day I finally opened it.
If you haven’t let Him in, He’s waiting at your door as well.
“Here I am! I stand at the door and knock. If anyone hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in and eat with him, and he with me.” Revelation 3:20
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)