Creativity

I heard this guy named Shane Claiborne speak at the Urbana Missions Conference last week. (he's been getting pretty popular with the Christian social justice crowd lately). I was impressed: he spoke truth with conviction about money and justice and being a Christian. Praise God for his work.

He made one suggestion that resonated with me, especially in the context of business school. Banks and corporations spend a lot of money analyzing consumers and figuring out how to sell their products in the marketplace. At school I have grown to appreciate the depth of creativity in firms' marketing and strategy departments. These companies hire brilliant people who are trained to target consumers and pay them a lot of money. Shane suggests that Christians should aim to match corporations' commitment of creativity with our own creative efforts to preach the Gospel to the poor and proclaim release to the captives.

Just an aside: I've never felt very comfortable with marketing--it smells like manipulation, and I'm a big believer in individual freedom and choice. At the same time I see it's necessity. If a company develops a killer new product, I want to know about it. Maybe I can use this new product to improve my life. Or alternatively, maybe I can use this new device to better preach the Gospel to the poor.

But I really like Shane's point. Wouldn't it be amazing if Christians directed the same kind of fervent creativity toward ending sex trafficking that credit card companies direct toward getting consumers to go into debt? What could we accomplish? What mountains would be moved?

I have a few more thoughts on this topic, but I'll save them for later. In the meantime please watch Shane's talk below--it's compelling.

On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand.

Back at it!

My friends, I took a break from blogging. I probably should have told you before I took the break rather than after. Please forgive me. :)

But now I'm back at it, though with a different purpose. Absurdly Happy in Constant Trouble was a place for me to express my thoughts and opinions and to get feedback from you. Are my ideas good or not? Are they interesting or not? And as a Christian, are my ideas honoring to God or not? It was a rich experience, and I'm thankful for each person who has read or commented on AHCT up to this point.

However, there have been a couple of developments in my life that have changed the trajectory of AHCT. First, I am now a full time business student, which has made my schedule both more full and more flexible, and which has provided me with a live platform to test my thoughts and theories. It's true, business students aren't as interested in Facebook or Quarterlife Crises as I am, but they have good thoughts on politics and the economy. I'm learning a ton, but unfortunately I don't have the brain space to concoct the same kind of interesting posts for AHCT.

Second, my writing has taken a different direction, largely because of this blog. After writing and talking about quarterlife issues for a couple of months, I realized that there is a huge need for information (or maybe just artistic expression) about life after college. I've decided to focus on this topic and take my writing offline, for the time being. I'm not sure what will come of it, but I hope I can produce something useful. But I am still open and eager to engage with any of you who have thoughts, questions or opinions on the Quarterlife Crisis.

But the point of this post is that I'm going to begin blogging again. The posts may be shorter and more focused on quarterlife or business school issues, but they will keep coming.

Thanks for reading. God bless you.

Just a reminder...

If you are a poor creature--poisoned by a wretched upbringing in some house full of vulgar jealousies and senseless quarrels--saddled, by no choice of your own, with some loathsome sexual perversion--nagged day in and day out by an inferiority complex that makes you snap your best friends--do not despair. He knows all about it. You are one of the poor whom He blessed. He knows what a wretched machine you are trying to drive. Keep on. Do what you can. One day (perhaps in another world, but perhaps far sooner than that) He will fling it on the scrap-heap and give you a new one. And then you may astonish us all--not least yourself: for you have learned your driving in a hard school. (Some of the last will be first and some of the first will be last).

-CS Lewis

What am I going to do when I turn 22?

The Wall Street Journal did a great interview with Alain de Botton (link on the title). He's sort of a philosopher of everyday life.

For me the most interesting part of the interview:

When college graduates are trying to figure out what careers to pursue, what should they ask themselves?

The process demands such a vast amount of thought that it's hard to summarize other than by saying: take this moment in your life very, very seriously. I studied the world of career counseling and was amazed by just how casually people continue to fall into jobs. Most of us are still in jobs chosen for us by our unthinking 22-year-old selves. We speak endlessly about waste: waste of energy, of resources, of water. But the most shameful waste is of people's talents.

Alain is smart; I agree with most of what he says in the interview. But I take issue with this response. I don't agree that the moment of decision at 22 is vitally important. And I think Alain is making a mistake to emphasize it for three reasons.

1. If a 22 year old is reading the transcript of his interview and is more than a little unsure about the direction of his life, then de Botton's words will likely cause mor harm than good. 22 is a tender age--having plenty of reasons to be insecure. de Botton isn't helping to ease the decision process.

2. If a 22 year old doesn't have a good idea of what to do next, then he probably won't make the ideal choice when forced to decide. de Botton is right--what we do for work is important. We spend forty or more hours a week working--it should be somewhat interesting and fulfilling. But I do not believe that a 22 year old will discover what interests or fulfills him by sitting down with a pen and paper and trying to make a career decision. Rather, he should examine his life for trends and interests that point toward his calling. What does he like doing now? Can he somehow make a living doing that thing and doing it well?

(Side Note) Some folks know what they are going to do for a career at age 10; some at age 20; others don't figure it out until later. I think that self reflection and career planning are useful regardless of when a person makes the career decision. And I think it's an ongoing process. I made a bad career decision at age 22, but now I'm 26 (so much wiser and more mature :P) and I have the experience and capacity to make better decisions.

3. Career decisions are important; however, peace and fulfillment do not come from obtaining the perfect job. And in truth, a job that is valued too highly will ultimately let us down. The economy is in constant flux and each of us will have to grow and adapt with the changing world in order to continue to provide value. If we stake too much hope on a single career done in an established way, then we will be left behind economically.

But my primary concern is spiritual--not economic.

The author of Ecclesiastes writes, "What does a man get for all the toil and anxious striving with which he labors under the sun? All his days his work is pain and grief; even at night his mind does not rest. This too is meaningless. A man can do nothing better than to eat and drink and find satisfaction in his work. This too, I see, is from the hand of God, for without him, who can eat or find enjoyment?"

Of course, the author was writing before organized labor and the subsequent establishment of the weekend and a retirement age. But you get the point: work and calling produce anxiety. However, they do not have to. There is One who offers peace that surpasses all understanding.

Apologies and Life at 22

Friends and Readers: I apologize for my recent absence from Absurdly Happy. LA has had a bad case of June gloom, and I, whether consequently or not, have had a bad case of writer's block. Please pray for my recovery.

Really, there are much more important things to pray for...but I'll take the prayers that I can get. :)

In the meantime I wanted to share an excellent piece by my friend and coworker Christina. She spent some time reflecting on her first year out of college and came up with a list of "10 things I've learned about the 'real world' during my first year in the 'real world'."

1. Live with good friends

2. People told you that you are amazing and that you can change the world. This was a lie. JK. You are amazing and you can change the world, it's just that no one in the "real world" will believe you until you prove it.

3. Be white American. You can complain and definitely find support, but be white American. That's how the world is run.

4. Learn to make decisions. Learn that it's okay not to make the perfect decision and that sometimes you just have to go for it.

5. Read the news in moderation. After living in a college bubble, too great an intake of the sad happenings of the world can cause depression.

6. Be humble. Really, BE HUMBLE. You can try to change the world, but first just live in it and learn from it. It knows more than you do.

7. When angstfully trying to decide what to do with your life, remember what an incredible privilege it is to have a choice at all.

8. If bored at your job, listen to books online for free at librivox.org. Rediscover fiction and enjoy readers' fake accents.

9. Take public transportation if you can. Driving grinds hopes and dreams out of the soul.

10. Value commitment over consumerism. Stick to things, places, people, even if you don't receive immediate gratification. Give it real chance because sometimes it takes demonstrated investment on your part before you receive gratification.

My very favorites are 2 and 6, but I feel like I could post on each of these. Thanks for the inspiration Christina.

Now to you: what were some of your thoughts or reflections on your first year out of college? I would love to hear.

disappointment and following your dreams part 1: Astronauts

A couple of weeks ago I posted about the quarterlife crisis, and the post has bothered me ever since. I think it needs more explanation. Here's part of what I wrote:

We grew up with big dreams, but the reality of adult life is not like our dreams--and it takes us a few years to sort through the professional, relational, and emotional letdowns. It doesn't really matter what generation we're a part of, at some point our childhood dreams have to be altered to fit with reality.

(you should probably read the rest of the post before going on...link above)

I don't regret the post--but I want to make sure you don't get the wrong idea. I believe in "following you dreams" but in my own way.

When I was in third grade, I did a report on the solar system. It was awesome! I threw myself into the project, reading book after book about the planets, the sun, the possibility of life on other planets. I was passionate about space--I could talk about it for hours. When the project was done, I was convinced that I would become an astronaut.

But I'm not an astronaut. I work in finance. What happened?

Well, to become an astronaut, I would have had to study a lot of science. But I didn't know that (I guess no one ever told me, or I didn't ask). So when I entered high school, I quickly decided that science was my least favorite subject. You know what high school chemistry is like... I also had no idea that I would have had to join the Air Force. I have never seriously considered joining the armed forces.

So in essence there were two problems with my dream to become an astronaut:
1. Lack of information- Simply, I didn't know what it would take to become an astronaut.
2. Lack of drive- I didn't know what it would take to become an astronaut, and I didn't care enough to find out. Remember this was 1992, before Google and Wikipedia.

Without drive, dreams will die. When I was in third grade, imagining my life as an astronaut was so glorious and, in some ways, seemed so easy. But becoming an astronaut—really, succeeding in any field—is difficult. Drive is essential. To follow our dreams we must have the faith and resilience to desire our goal even when disappointment stands in our way.

Disappointment is toxic; it can be paralyzing. Somehow, somehow we must attain the drive to push through it.

If I was driven to become an astronaut, I could have sought out more information about the field. I could have pushed through chemistry and physics, catching glimpses of the stars through the library windows. I could have endured basic training and played the military game, knowing that I was running a race worth winning.

But I didn’t and that’s okay. Becoming an astronaut was one of seven or eight dreams that I had as a child—I’m still pursuing three! And I have learned that if I am going to attain any of these three, then drive is essential.

“Following your dreams” is a Commencement Speech cliche; I dislike it because it's overused. But the concept is important. We each have desires, and we ought to pursue them. I hope you will. I hope you know that it will be difficult. I hope also that you know it will be worth it.

I confess that my drive is worse than most. Thank God I’ve had some help. Here's one book that helped me. Here's another.

Twitter.

I gave in. My friend Edward gave a seminar on Twitter this past Tuesday, and I felt like it was time to sign up. It seems like a good way to share news and an easy way to update my Facebook status.

But I have one big reservation: I don't want to know what Ashton Kutcher (or anyone else that I'm not close with) does throughout the day. It feels like I'm intruding, like I don't care enough that I should know his lunch menu or the color of his dog's poo. And likewise, I don't want to share things about my daily routine with my random followers--I would rather share that stuff with people that I am close with.

Or am I missing a great opportunity to brand myself?

Am I the only one who has this problem? What do you guys think? Twitter: useful tool or privacy killer?

I don't drink coffee, but if I did...

(I'm going to business school in the fall, so I thought I would write a business related post. But please, let me know if it's just boring, and I won't do it again.)

Americans have started to save money. In March we saved about 3.5% of the money we earned--and some economists are freaking out. Saving means less spending, and less spending means slower growth (at least, that's what it means in America). Over the past two decades--really, since the rise of the credit card--most of America's economic growth has come from domestic consumer spending.

But now, instead of going to a hip local coffee shop (or Starbucks), folks are going to McDonald's to buy their coffee. I don't drink coffee, but I hear that McDonald's coffee is better than Starbucks and about a buck cheaper. Good for McDonald's: their stock price has been mostly steady through the financial crisis. But as we keep saving money on coffee and other necessities and deferring purchases of luxuries (flat screen TVs...), our economy keeps shrinking. When will we snap out of it and start spending again?!

Okay I'm being facetious.

I don't think there is anything wrong with a 3.5% savings rate. It's actually sort of low. The average savings rate in America post-1929 is about 7%, and really, we should still be saving at about that rate. We were wrong to think that rising property values would allow us to live off our home equity, and we are wrong to think that we will be able to attain our financial goals (both individually and as a nation) without spending less and saving more.

But if Americans continue to save, then our economy must find a new avenue of growth. Economists have different theories about how this can happen. I'm not an economist, but I have an idea: America needs to start producing something that the rest of the world needs to buy. We've done this well in the past, first with cars, then food, then microprocessors. But now other countries can produce all of these more quickly and more cost effectively than America.

What the world needs (and what I hope twenty-first century America can offer) is technology that can produce and transport energy with little environmental impact. If America can corner the market on solar, wind, geothermal, or other technologies, then our economic dominance is far from done. But to advance these technologies will require investment in higher education and research, and it will require the government to extend visas to the best talent in the world.

America has been the world's dominant economic force throughout my life. I don't know any other way. Perhaps our world would be better served by a group of cooperative and competitive nations driving the system. But if America hopes to retain even a share in the global hegemony, then we must begin to produce something worthwhile.

How to become a genius.

Here is an article that ties together Malcolm Gladwell's ideas with the ideas from my last post about the quarterlife crisis. Enjoy!

And so that you guys don't think that I'm all work and no play, here's a ridiculous video to enjoy.

The Quarterlife Crisis: Then and Now

Right. Though I hoped to avoid it I feel I was bound to post of the quarterlife crisis. I'm sure you've heard too much of it, particularly if you are quarterlife crisis-ing currently. So forgive me, but I have a point that I would like to make.

(For those of you unfamiliar with the term "quarterlife crisis", here is a link to the wikipedia entry)

Without meaning to, I read a couple of novels this spring that dealt with the crisis indirectly (these books have been great catharsis as I've emerged from my own quarterlife crisis). What follows is a brief review the books.

Dave Eggers wrote a great novel a few years ago that is quintessential quarterlife crisis. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius is strange and hilarious. The main character/narrator is in his early twenties; he grew up white in a privileged, white suburb, but was struck by tragedy when both of his parents died of cancer within a few months of each other. He is sympathetic, but he's also arrogant and narcissistic with a major victim complex. He vehemently believes that his generation (generation X...) will save the world from all that is white collar and cruel, and with that conviction he and his friends start a magazine. The magazine holds his interest for a couple of hundred pages, but eventually he decides to pursue something else...but we never find out what. Women come and go; he cannot commit. Most of his relationships are unhealthy, and he admits as much. Sadly (or artistically?), he is static. In the end he has no revelation, no breakthrough.

To me, the quarterlife crisis seems a natural fit for Generation X, the same for Generation Y. But I have seemed to think the Baby Boomers never had quarterlife crises. They were busy either becoming white collar workers or protesting society in a way that had impact--I thought. But John Updike proved me wrong.

Updike wrote a series of novels around a character named Rabbit Angstrom. It's an interesting series: as Updike aged, Rabbit aged, so each book found Rabbit experiencing the problems and pressures that Updike was presently experiencing. Rabbit (Updike?) is 26 in the first novel, Rabbit, Run; it's 1960 and Rabbit is having a quarterlife crisis.

Rabbit was a high school basketball star, but his star came crashing down with graduation. He joins the army, then settled down with a wife and a son and a daughter on the way. He works as a kitchen appliance demonstrator at a local market. And he is miserable--dissatisfied with being an adult. Rabbit spends the novel looking for a way back to the freedom and the glory of being 18. He begins by schooling a bunch of middle schoolers at basketball; for the moment he is satisfied. But when he returns home to find his wife drunk in front of the TV, he freaks and decides to run. He gets in his car and drives as far away as he can think to drive. In a moment of irony Rabbit does not feel adult enough to embrace his freedom, so he returns to his home town--but instead of going back to his wife, he moves in with a prostitute who is everything that his wife is not. The book proceeds, tragically, with little change to Rabbit's character.

(As an aside, Rabbit, Run is an excellent novel--anyone interested in American fiction should read it)

Okay, earlier I promised that I had a point, and I do. Rabbit's life is very different than mine and than most of my friends. He is settled: he has a growing family and he's working on getting a mortgage. Generation Y is not so settled: many of my friends and I are still trying to discover what we want to do, and starting a family is still on the horizon. However, I think Rabbit's choice to run and Gen Y's continual search for a calling are two sides of the same crisis. We grew up with big dreams, but the reality of adult life is not like our dreams--and so it takes us a few years to sort through the professional, relational, and emotional letdowns. It doesn't really matter what generation we're a part of, at some point our childhood dreams have to be altered to fit with reality.

"You cynic!" you say, "Don't you remember Yes We Can!"

I am certainly a realist, but I don't think I'm cynical. CS Lewis has taught me to love the romance of childhood. But more, I love seeing the redemption and the transformation of our world. Such work is our task as adults and requires blood, sweat, and tears as much as it requires inspiration.

Christ Against Culture?

Forgive me while I psychoanalyze...

I'm reading Christ and Culture by H. Richard Niebuhr--I'm about half way through and it is excellent. Niebuhr pieces together historic Christian approaches to how Christians ought to live in the World (which he calls culture and spends a chapter defining. Niebuhr in short: the World is the value systems, philosophies, art forms, politics, and economics that make up a culture).

The problem, it seems, is that Jesus promises eternal salvation, but we're not dead yet. How ought Christians live (and how should I live) in the interim?

Niebuhr examines five answers that Christians have posited to this question, and each answer is fascinating. Each approach has taught me more about my self and my faith.

Of particular interest has been the approach that Niebuhr calls 'Christ against Culture' or the 'radical' approach. These Christians--represented by groups like the Benedictines (back in the day) and the Mennonites, and people like Leo Tolstoy--were convinced that the Christian must separate from culture in a radical way, either through vows of poverty, disavowal of political action, or, in Tolstoy's case, disengagement with culture altogether. These men and women are to be commended.

"In history these Christian withdrawals from and rejections of the institutions of society have been of very great importance to both church and culture. They have maintained the distinction between Christ and Caesar, between revelation and reason, between God's will and man's."

Amen.

I have been drawn to this approach in the past and am drawn to it now. I dream of living a radical life and were it not for video games and girls I might pursue it more seriously. It seems to me that Christ is worth being radical for. Some people are radical Marxists or radical libertarians--that's fine--but those ideologies have very defined material ends, while Christ promises change and transformation that transcends politics, culture, and economics; affecting and saving the soul. He promises a new society, a new ethics, a new life, and a second chance for anyone who has failed. What a Man to follow radically!

But at times the 'radical' approach is not the right approach:

"Now that we have recognized the importance of the role played by anticultural Christians in the reform of culture, we must immediately point out that they never achieved these results alone or directly but only through the mediation of believers who gave a different answer to the fundamental question. Not Tertullian (a radical), but Origen, Clement of Alexandria, Ambrose, and Augustine initiated the reformation of Roman culture. Not Benedict, but Francis, Dominic, and Bernard of Clairvaux accomplished the reform of medieval society often credited to Benedict...in every case the followers did not so much compromise the teachings of the radicals as follow another inspiration than the one deriving from an exclusive loyalty to an exclusive Christ (against culture)."

Augustine, Francis, and the other followers took ideas and values from the radical approach and used them to engaged culture. They saw tremendous change. Whole countries, whole empires became more just and more God-fearing because of their work.

Now, I'm trying to figure out how I want to live my life, and I keep getting pulled back to this desire to be a radical Christian. For some reason, I can't pull it off. I try to be a radical, but lose my desire after about 45 minutes. It seems like I just wasn't made to be a radical. In light of this struggle, I appreciate Niebuhr. Perhaps I can live for Christ as a radical-inspired non-radical. Perhaps I can take the ideas of Benedict and St. Antony and apply them in the context of my normal life. And as Niebuhr suggests, perhaps living this way I can have more of an impact than if I were a radical.

What do you think?

Europe! the video

I apologize for my lack of posts over the past month or so. My brother and I took a trip to Europe, and it's taken me a while to get back in the blogging groove. In the interim I've been working on a couple of videos about our trip. Here is the first one. The sound is not great, but hang in there because I've got some great shots of the alps at the end.

And I should have a fresh post for you guys by the end of the week.





And here is the second. Enjoy!

in defense of Bromance

(Ladies, I apologize in advance: I will address men directly in this post, but I neglect to address you directly. So..I decided to give you all this special note at the top of my post. Thanks for reading. I do appreciate it. Let me know what you think about masculinity and bromance.)

I'm editing a new video blog about getting glasses. I want to get it posted before I leave for Europe (on Friday!), but I just finished an article that deserves a blog response. The New York Times did a piece on Paul Rudd and his new movie I Love You, Man. It's a movie about guys being close friends--which popular media has dubbed "bromance" and academics call homosocial intimacy. I am passionate about bromance.

Just a note: I have not seen the movie, but will. So rather than blogging about the movie, I'll be blogging about bromance.

The article praises Paul Rudd--fashioning him as a model of twenty-first century masculinity. That's true, in part. Paul has taken roles where he plays liberal artsy guys trying to figure out life in their twenties and thirties. As a liberal artsy guy in my twenties, I can relate, so he is a representative of my kind of masculinity. But it's a stretch to compare Paul to masculine icons like Marlon Brando or Clint Eastwood.

Paul plays characters who are in touch with their feminine side: they enjoy art, carry on good conversations, and have (at least a few) liberal political leanings. I Love You, Man portends to be a great movie because it examines a major difficulty in the life of the twenty-first century liberal artsy dude: the problem of male-to-male friendship or bromance.

Paul plays a guy who is great with the ladies and has finally pinned down the one that he wants to marry. But as the wedding planning begins, he realizes that he has no close guy friends--no one that he could ask to be his best man. The movie documents his awkward quest to make friends with other guys and to find that one special guy who can be his best man.

I love that this movie addresses the issue of male friendship. It has often been overlooked or ignored, but I believe that guy friendships and guy community are essential to male development. Sadly, many of us don't know how to have close friendships with other men.

A sad bi product of the gay rights movement and the subsequent homophobic backlash has been increased fear among men of close same-sex friendships. We are afraid that if we are in a close friendship with another guy, then it means that we have romantic feelings for him. For the record, this is not true.

I first noticed this fear a few years ago while discussing The Lord of the Rings movies with other guys. More than once guys suggested that Frodo and Sam were homosexual. They were joking, like guys do, but the suggestion frustrated me--in part because these guys did not appreciate Tolkien's art for developing characters and relationships, and in part because I realized that we have no paradigm for close male friendship. We saw Frodo and Sam as Tolkien intended: intimate, loving, and reliant upon each other. But because close male friendship is little represented in modern culture and media (I can't think of many examples, can you?), my friends viewed the relationship through the only lens that worked: homosexuality.

We (American men) do not have a paradigm through which we can understand intimate male relationships. And we need one. The idea of bromance can, in a strange way, made male friendship accessible by making it funny. I hope I Love You, Man can contribute to a cultural shift away from the fear of the male friendship and toward real intimacy and improved male community. Certainly this shift will require more than a Paul Rudd movie, but it seems like a great start.

The Absurdity of Facebook

Here are a couple of videos that comment on the real friend/Facebook friend confusion. Hope you enjoy!

This video is a preview of a BBC show called Facebloke. My friend Jason found it while exploring his interest in British slang...



There's this woman named Christine who posts videos under the name Happyslip. All her videos are excellent--very high quality. Here's one she recently did on Facebook.

I can't seem to get more than 148 Facebook friends...

(this post draws extensively from the February 28 Economist article linked above. read it. it's great.)

Well actually, that's not true. As of today, March 10, 2009, I have 340 friends. Pretty sweet, huh? :)

But according to this Oxford professor named Robin Dunbar, a person cannot sustain a network of more than 148 friends and acquaintances. Apparently, it's just too stressful. Dunbar compares the human network dilemma to the primate network dilemma: "keeping track of who to groom--and why--demands quite a bit of mental computation. You need to remember who is allied with, hostile to, or lusts after whom, and act accordingly."

Right...

But Facebook is different, isn't it? Adding a new friend doesn't cost me money and doesn't cause me stress; in fact, adding a new friend can make me happy because I have reconnected with someone that I knew (or kind of knew) in the past and I have increased the size of my friend network, and thereby my bragging rights.

The Economist counters that most of my Facebook friends are not really friends, and in truth, Facebook friends are not even part of my network. (The Economist only considers a person to be in my network if I am interacting with that person...as opposed to anonymously perusing their profile. Some people call this stalking) Apparently, Facebook tracks how much we poke, comment, message, and IM one another. Here are the average number of contacts broken out by gender and number of friends:

• a guy with about 120 friends comments on about 7 of his friends' walls and chats or messages with about 4 of his friends. with 500 friends he comments on 17 walls and messages/chats with 10.
• a girl with about 120 friends comments on about 10 of her friends' walls and chats or messages with about 6 of her friends. with 500 friends she comments on 26 walls and messages/chats with 16.

A few comments on the data:

1. We interact with a very small proportion of our Facebook friends. But somehow I still want to increase my number of friends. Why is that? Maybe Facebook friends have more in common with baseball cards than real friends. When I was 8, I couldn't buy enough baseball cards--I would go to the store every weekend and tear into a pack or two with my allowance. The players on the cards mattered for a few minutes, but by the next weekend I had forgotten about the old cards and wanted to get new ones.

Now, I love Facebook but would like to suggest that many of our Facebook friends are actually just contacts or acquaintances--not friends. (Well now I feel like Mr. Obvious)

2. Women/girls/gals have more vibrant social networking lives than men/boys/guys. I think that's great. That's part of why I like women: they really enjoy socializing and building relationships--even online relationships. I have heard that guys, alternatively, join social networking sites to accomplish specific goals or to complete certain tasks. Most common goals/tasks for guys: flirting, making business contacts, planning events, meeting social needs. I read an article a few months ago that said married men are by far the least likely demographic to have a Facebook page--and I conjecture that their disinterest in social networking stems from their disinterest in flirting. What do you think?

3. I don't get stressed out by adding new Facebook friends, but Dunbar's theory about a limit on the number of human intimate relationships fits my experience and fits the data. We may have quivers full of Facebook friends, but still we are close with only a few.

I like that. Even as Blackberry, Twitter, and Facebook have made relationships easier to maintain, our real capacity for relationship and our need for intimacy has not changed. We still search for a few intimate friends and family members with whom to share our lives.

And it follows that our capacity and need for spiritual intimacy has not changed. God is still there and still relevant whether I have 50 Facebook friends or 500.

a kinder, but still shrewd, manager

(A couple of weeks ago I posted about the parable of the shrewd manager in Luke 16. I meant for this post to be the start of a three part shrewd manager series. Here's part 2.)

Davidthird comes from my position in my family. My dad's name is David, my grandfather's name is David, so I am David the third. Davidthird.

This post is about David the first, David Edgar Dilworth, or Grandpa D. He was a great servant of the church, first as a missionary, then as a theology professor, and finally as a pastor. Grandpa D passed away four years ago this week, and as a memorial I wanted to share a story of the shrewd manager in his life.

My Grandpa suffered from neuropathy, a disease that affected the nerves in his extremities. The disease became so bad that he could hardly move his hands or feet toward the end of his life; regardless, he taught classes at a church in La Canada every week until he was 82. He would roll into the classroom with his walker a few minutes before class. A few times he asked me to write some notes for him on the white board, but frequently he taught without notes--for his class and for himself. His final series of classes, the ones I remember best, were on the parables of Jesus, and he knew them so well that he did not need notes.

It worked out that he taught on the parable of the shrewd manager just a few weeks after I had studied the passage in my dorm. I was surprised at the timing--I had not heard of the parable in eighteen years of life, and suddenly it had popped up twice in one month. He began his exegesis slowly, constructing the world in which the shrewd manager lived and then walking his students through the sticky text of the parable. He took his time, savoring the text and the students. Grandpa D loved the Bible, and he used quiet charm and disarming smile to teach others to love it too.

But his charm did not cause him to mince words--I think especially in his old age. He knew that Jesus was serious when he said, "No servant can serve two masters...You cannot serve both God and money." So in his calm, compelling way, he called the class to conviction, and the room grew silent--La Canada is a wealthy place.

Grandpa D could have shied away from this last verse, shielding himself from the class's forthcoming hard questions and criticism, but he did not. My Grandpa did not draw his worth and his purpose from the class's approval, though he frequently had it; neither did he draw his worth from money, though he was not poor. He lived for a higher honor, which he has now received.

Well done, good and faithful servant.

Remember Speechwriters LLC

...apparently they're back! New EP in March. Here's a video I found on YouTube, embedded with love for my friends from Claremont.

5 Things about Chicago

When I was eight I asked my dad which city was the most polluted. He told me that it was probably LA. I didn't believe him--"What about Chicago," I said, "that places seems dirty." My dad told me about the Chicago winds and how they blow pollution out of the city, but I remained skeptical.

I never had high expectations for Chicago, which is probably a good thing. As has been the case with all John Krasinski movies, high expectations often lead to disappointment. But low expectations can lead to surprises (see Grape Nuts, they seem gross but are, in truth, amazing).

I have been in Chicago for two days, headed back tonight, and being here has not been like my first bowl of Grape Nuts, but it has been pretty good. Here are five surprising/interesting/nice things about Chicago:

1. Mid-west hospitality. Cold and confused, I walked off the train and onto the streets of downtown Chicago at 9 pm Thursday night. Within two minutes of looking confused two beautiful people (a guy and girl) stopped to ask me if I needed help. I said yes, and they spent a few minutes standing in the cold explaining how transit works in Chicago. And they seemed genuinely happy to do it. I have had a number of interactions like this over the past few days. It seems like Chicago people are nice.

2. Transit. I didn't get the whole taxi/train/bus thing at first, but I have gotten the hang of it and have discovered that one could live in Chicago without a car. Praise the Lord.

3. The Neighborhoods. Chicago has interesting neighborhoods. Like LA neighborhoods they have serious problems (racial/economic segregation, poor schools, aging infrastructure), and like LA neighborhoods they have history and culture and (some) sense of community. I like Hyde Park in particular, home to the University of Chicago and this guy named Barry Obama.

4. Food and tea. From what I can tell its cheaper than in LA--better Italian, worse Mexican. And there's this great chain called Argo Tea. If you're from Portland, think Coffee People but with tea and before they got bought out by Starbucks. If you're from LA, think Starbucks, but a little bit better in every way.

5. Friendly homeless people. I have no idea why--if I were homeless in Chicago, I would be miserable because of the cold. But I have had some great interactions with homeless people while here in Chicago. They have been friendly, talkative, and understanding--not overly aggressive. Lord, what are you doing in Chicago?

That said, it hasn't gotten above 30 degrees since I've been here, and some of the architecture is really ugly. But I like Chicago. If Pasadena and Portland are 9's, Las Vegas is a 1, and LA is a 6, then I would give Chicago a 7 (an 8 if the weather was better).

a basement, a shrewd manager, a conversion

I joined a Bible study in the basement of my dorm during my first semester at Pomona College. But I'm not entirely sure why. I guess I was spiritually interested. I was involved in a lot of different activities as a freshman, and Bible study seemed like a good addition.

My church in Portland had been a liberal Presbyterian church. We didn't study the Bible much, and there were a lot of members who didn't believe in Christ's unique ability to save. Nonetheless, I was a spiritually confident freshman, and I came to Bible study assuming that I knew everything about Jesus and the Bible. I was, of course, wrong in my assumption. The Bible and this group slowly opened my eyes to a number of my misconceptions about Christ and spirituality.

My Bible study leader's name was Amber. My first impression of her was her height--she was pretty short (well, I mean, she was...); my next impression was her demeanor--she was quiet, a history major who liked to study (I think she's getting a PhD. now, studying the history of the Holocaust). We met in her tiny dorm room in the basement, and we studied the parables of Jesus. Amber started us out on the well known parables: the Good Samaritan, the Talents. She did a great job of pulling out the nuance and mystery of what Jesus was saying, and I began to appreciate the depth of each parable. Jesus' teachings had begun to scratch at my heart.

After a few weeks we came to the Parable of the Shrewd Manager (Luke 16:1-15, click here for the passage). I read the passage, and the group began to discuss. Amber, in her quiet but forceful way, would not let us settle for a simple explanation of the text. No, Jesus was not saying that we should cheat and connive like the Manager, and no, He also wasn't saying that the Manager was just a jerk--Jesus had a deeper lesson for our group and for me.

I was utterly confused. That night was my first experience of being confounded by the Bible (I think not understanding the Bible can be a good thing). I remember that night was the first time I prayed: "Jesus, what the heck are you trying to say?"

Slowly, He made himself clear. Jesus was addressing the idea of stewardship. We gain wealth, possessions, and power in this life, and there are many different ways to spend these resources. Jesus says, "Use them for the one thing that will not pass away!" When this teaching sunk in, I was left humbled. Jesus was saying something profound through this passage, and I had missed it entirely. In his own meek way, Jesus showed me that my SAT scores and hot grades meant very little when trying to understand the Kingdom of God. His wisdom is different than the kind of knowledge I was learning in school. I could be brilliant and still miss the point.

That night God converted my mind. He convinced me that the Bible is mysterious but true and that I can trust what is written there. It would take another seven months to convert my heart (that's another story), but this study in Amber's dorm room was crucial to God's victory in my life.

Thank you Jesus for your mysterious wisdom. Thank you Amber for not letting me settle.

Why is Saint Augustine so brilliant?

(A couple of weeks ago a wrote a post discussing the source of Malcolm Gladwell's brilliance. This post does the same but for Saint Augustine.)

I picked up Saint Augustine's Confessions just before Christmas for some vacation reading. Augustine is a doctor of the faith, incredibly influential in shaping Christian theology, so I thought that I should read one of his works. The politics major in me wanted to read City of God, but when I saw how long it was, I thought better of it. Confessions seemed more manageable.

I was primed for an intellectual marathon, but what I found in his Confessions was a readable and relevant description of one man's relationship with God. He discussed the Manichees and Platonism a bit (which I didn't really get), but as a whole, the book had a greater impact on my heart than my head.

Augustine knew God well. When I first began reading, I had to put the book down every few pages because I felt humbled in light of his description of Christ and the Father. He understood much about God that I am barely beginning to grasp. He emphasized one point that was especially poignant for me.

He writes, "If physical objects give you pleasure, praise God for them and return love to their Maker lest, in the things that please you, you displease him. If souls please you, they are being loved in God; for they are also mutable and acquire stability by being established in him..." Augustine gives thanks to God for each blessing in his life: nature, friends, family, opportunities, and more. If a contemporary Christian were to talk the way Augustine writes, I would probably label that person "hyper-spiritual" and a little out of touch with reality. But since Augustine is Augustine I am humbled and compelled to take him seriously.

The doctor gives thanks to God for the gift of intellect at length, providing an interesting counterpoint to Malcolm Gladwell's thoughts in Outliers. Augustine was probably a genius. By age twenty he could out-debate the best teachers in North Africa, so he moved to Italy only to find that he was a top intellect there as well. He writes, "You know, Lord my God, that quick thinking and capacity for acute analysis are your gift. But that did not move me to offer them in sacrifice to you. And so these qualities were not helpful but pernicious (deadly)."

Augustine skips over the terrestrial source of his intellectual ability--I get the sense that he doesn't really care if he's intelligent because of nature or because of nurture--and says that regardless of why he's smart, God is the source of his smart-ness.

I'm definitely not as smart or talented as Augustine or Malcolm Gladwell, so what does all this mean for me? More than anything, reading Augustine has inspired me to use the talents and gifts that I have been given to serve God. I think it is easy for me to get bummed because I don't have some of the flashier gifts to offer to God. Augustine is helping me see that what I have is what God wants--he just wants me to be me.