What's Inside Leaks!

My oldest daughter, her husband, and my wife were conversing around the lunch table on Saturday. My daughter had been invited by the leader of an exercise class to demonstrate an exercise that she’d excelled in. Then for some reason my daughter made this comment, “Well, I always knew keeping my weight down was important.” It came out of no where. It seemed disconnected to the conversation and it caught me off guard.

I’m short and slender. I run marathons. I was in the lighter weight classes on the wrestling team. I’ve never had a problem with my weight. Our daughters pretty much fall into the same category. The daughter in question weighs 100 lbs--maybe. Staying slim has never been a problem for her. Even after pregnancy. It’s just not an issue. But for her to tell me that she knew that this was important to me, even as a kid, took me back. “When did I ever say that?” I protested. “Never,” she said. “I just knew it was important to you.”

Somehow I leaked a value that I never intended to. It’s made me think. Several things became clear:

(1) What’s going on inside me is going to leak out, even if I don’t intend it to. So I have to ask, “What’s going on inside me? What am I communicating about myself and others acceptability, based on my own thoughtless comments?” I sometimes make fun of myself in front of others due to my small stature and slender frame. It really doesn’t bother me. I’m not embarrassed by it. It’s fun, and frankly, sometimes funny. But I now wonder if I’ve made heavier people uncomfortable by speaking in such a flippant fashion about a problem many of them have; namely keeping their weight under control.

(2) This value, or reality, effected my daughter. It shaped her life. Without even meaning to, I somehow contributed to the insane body image issue of our western culture; namely that if you’re not thin and beautiful, you’re not that significant. And if you are, well then you’ve got significant currency in this culture. She’s thin and she’s beautiful. She’s got currency. But that’s not the point! What if she wasn’t?

All of this has grabbed my attention while reading Matthew 23 and Jeremiah 9 in the bible. In Matthew 23 the religious leaders had all sorts of inner spiritual issues. They looked great on the outside, but on the inside their lives were on a tragic trajectory; one that came to fruition in the crucifixion of their Messiah. In Jeremiah 9, the nation of Israel had made all kinds of gods out of all kinds of things. Perhaps I’ve made a god out of being physically fit, being in shape, or being slender in a world that values thinness and beauty.

In all of this, I’ve learned that the values of our hearts leak out in ways we are unaware of. And our families, for better or worse, have formed and shaped those values in us. If you are from a family or have a family of your own there will be a legacy! What do our comments, our actions, our thoughts and motives say about what we value? What will they leave as a legacy? If we are unaware of our own family of origin issues, it only means we’re doomed to repeat the same mistakes. Being spiritually healthy means we allow God to make us aware of, and then actually deal with, our family of origins.

I think for me, this is instructive in that I want to be less critical of others imperfections and differences of opinion and more aware of my own. The harsh and often shrill tone of our current political, and cultural, dialogue suggests very few of our countries leaders actually have this kind of self-awareness. We leak. We all leak something! What is it you leak? What does it mean? And when you discover it, will you take the time to ask the hard question, “Why am I thinking, feeling, or acting that way?” Stop. Slow down. Look for the leaks. And when you find them, begin the long process of repair that comes by anchoring those life changes in the sacrificial life, death and resurrection of Jesus. It’s worth it.

The Great Divorce--A Hellish Drama

I went to see the CS Lewis play, The Great Divorce, a while back. The play was off Broadway and in a very small theatre. What a production. It was amazing. If you’ve never read the book, consider it. It’s the story of a bus ride from hell to heaven. At the gates of heaven, each of the bus riders are given the opportunity to get into heaven, but all but one ultimately choose hell. I’ve read it over and over again. Lewis isn’t making a theological statement in the book. If you are reading it with that in mind, you are missing the point. But the characters at heaven’s gates are all very provocative!

For example: One of the characters was a grumbler. The actor walked across the stage mumbling and grumbling. The words cascaded from her lips like water over a water falls. Grumble grumble grumble. Over and over. Lewis used the character to highlight what happens when one becomes the qualities that get us into hell. He notes in the book, “The whole difficulty of understanding Hell is that the thing to be understood is so nearly Nothing. ….It begins with a grumbling mood, and yourself still distinct from it: perhaps criticizing it. And yourself, in a dark hour, may will that mood, embrace it. Ye can repent and come out of it, again. But [here Lewis warns us through the character, speaking in the book] there may come a day when you can do that no longer. Then there will be no you left to criticize the mood, nor even to enjoy it, but just the grumble itself going on forever like a machine.”

Do you see what he’s saying? There may come a time when sin literally consumes us. It’s become so much apart of us, that it is us and when that happens, its hell. Hell is the by-product of what sin does to us—we become dehumanized and less of what we’ve been created to be to the point where we eternally disintegrate. Sobering!! The whole idea of hell as flames of fire is a metaphor for the eternal, non ending, disintegration of a human soul. Biblically it is searing heat and fire. It is outer darkness and isolation.  We never become what we were created to become: its utter, complete, and entire hopelessness. Lewis seeks to communicate that in the book.

After it was all done, we went out to dinner and discussed which character was most compelling. It made for good conversation. Read the book. The play was put on by The Fellowship of the Performing Arts which is a theatrical company committed to sharing theatre from a Christian worldview. The play, The Great Divorce, had taken several years to perfect and has gotten some great reviews. Max McClean, the founder, came out after the performance and took questions. There were three actors who played sixteen roles!! Honestly, living in NYC has its benefits when it comes to the arts. It was an amazing experience. 

The Picture of Dorian Gray--A Review

I read this book in 2010 and wrote a blog on it that I never posted. I referred to it in a recent post and then realized I'd never put it on my blog. So here it is--three years late!   

I recently read the book The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. It’s a book set in 19^th century England about a handsome young man whose good looks and persona inspire others to desire to be like him. For this reason, he can get whatever he wants, and he centers his existence around himself and his own pleasures. But in an odd twist of fate, Dorian Gray’s life takes a unique twist after an artist’s portrait captures his soul. So while on the outside, things look great: He’s energetic, creative, and appears youthful even as he ages; on the inside Dorian Gray’s soul begins to shrivel. And somehow little by little the painting mysteriously changes, revealing his self-absorbed and self-centered ugliness.

Fearful of being discovered for what he really is, Dorian Gray hides the painting in a room in his home to which he alone carries the key. Over the years he regularly visits the room and watches in horror as the painting, revealing the real Dorian Gray, becomes despicable, hideous, even grotesque. His withered soul was hidden from all but Dorian Gray himself, and it tormented him. The possibility that he would be revealed for what he really was, terrified him.

The Picture of Dorian Gray examines human nature through a modernistic lense. Several of the characters, including Dorian Gray himself, appear to take an objective view of life. Their perspective and emotion is tempered by their even keeled scientific method. But the sheer emotionally vacuous analysis of life events that, in the end, should pierce their souls does not. In the end, Dorian Gray lives out the Hedonism that his friends all wish they could but don’t or can’t. Ironically, those whose lives intersect closely with Dorian Gray end up devastated or destroyed. But none are as twisted and destroyed as Dorian himself. Without even knowing, it he destroys himself.

The book is worthwhile reading and made me wonder what realities there are about myself that can’t even be conveyed or even called blind spots because they are so hidden--not just from me but from others as well!  The moral seems to be: face what’s real, don’t hide it or it will destroy you. It did to Dorian Gray. 

Oscar Wildes must have been an interesting man. What secrets was he keeping about himself that he never revealed, yet in the end, destroyed him?

The Mirror

I looked in the mirror the other day. It’s something I do pretty much every day. I’d run six miles and was pretty sweaty. Hair all over the place, sweat dripping down my forehead, shirt discolored around the neck and armpits; you know the look. You’ve had it too. But then I looked again--I looked old! Yeah! I mean, real old. “If this is what running is doing to me, maybe I should stop,” I thought.

My mind went back to the book by Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray. If you remember the story, Dorian Gray was a handsome young man who somehow found himself painted in a picture that captured not only his outer attractiveness, but his inner soul. Over time, while he retained his good looks, the picture became increasingly distorted. He kept it locked in a room to which there was only one key—a key he went to great lengths to guard. He didn’t want anyone to see the picture. On the outside, he seemed to never age regardless of the abuse he put his body through. The picture, on the other hand, not only aged but over time, grew grotesque. With each passing year, and each degrading action, the picture of Dorian Gray grew more and more ugly. I’ll not tell you the end of the story. But its really interesting.

Aging is a fact of life. So while my physique shrinks and becomes eventually becomes infirm, I hope my soul grows stronger. In fact, is it possible that in a room in some far off place there is a picture of Dave Miles under lock and key, that grows ever more handsome, ever more beautiful, ever more debonair as I become more and more like the One who is most beautiful? It’s the opposite of Dorian Gray! It’s described in some ancient literature, “…though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day…So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

You Have a Torn Labrum

2009 Boston Marathon--Time: 2:57:06

“You have a torn labram. The MRI says you have a torn labrum in your right hip." 

 “Spell it,” I said cryptically. The voice on the other end of the phone was my friend and physician. I trust him but the connection was bad and I wanted to get it right. “L-a-b-r-u-m. Labrum.” He said. “It’s called a labral tear.” I paused, thanked him for the news and ran up to my computer to Google “labrum.” It’s the cartilage in the hip. Somehow I ripped mine. Its not an irreparable injury. Frankly, physical therapy and maybe easy surgery will correct it. Its not badly torn—at least I don’t think so. But its torn and it took me out of the Boston Marathon. It would have been my 9^th in a row. My friends shake their heads and say, “Overuse! You train too hard.” Maybe. Or maybe not. I like to be focused and running hard—and surfing in the winter—forces me to do that. I want to read a lot and work my body hard because it forces me to have physical and mental integrity—something people seem to lose as they get older. But its disappointing. Truth is, I’ll probably trot the first 3.1 miles and, after crossing the 5K line, stop. Jan will pick me up. We’ll drive to mile 21 and I will watch the rest of the race with her as a spectator. A family friend from Seattle will be with us. Her son is trying to break 2:30! He’s one fast dude.

I enjoy running the Boston Marathon more than any other race. In fact, if I could just run one race a year, I’d choose Boston. The leaves aren’t out yet and there is a freshness in the air that’s unusual. Running through beautiful New England towns is exhilarating. Its honestly delightful. For me, it brings me into the presence of God. Beauty and loveliness should do that. They are pointers to God. “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord Almighty” (Ps 84:1) says the Psalmist. He’s referring to the temple described in the Hebrew Scriptures, but as a follower of Jesus, that loveliness is seen in Gods common grace reflected in sights and smells of nature, people, and activity. An ocean wave that crashes, wind that blows the trees, a good meal, laughter, fun, even running 26.2 miles can be worship when centered on a creative God who gives hints of his glory in the joy of living. More than that, it even points to the sacrifice of Christ in the cross—a very ugly thing in a very beautiful world.

I’m grieving the loss of this race. But the disappointment is a reminder that life’s short, we are broken, and yet God is good. He does what he does for his glory and our good. "No good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless" (Ps 84:11). Hard to accept that isn’t it?! Hard to understand, isn’t it?! Think about it. What's it mean?

A torn labrum is a minor inconvenience, that I suppose could turn into a major problem. But that’s a very temporal problem. I’ll probably heal up and I’ve already qualified for the 2014 Boston Marathon thanks to running Yonkers and Athens in the fall of 2012. If you think about poverty, racism, school shootings, and war—all major reminders of a broken world—an injury that’s unintentionally self inflicted is pretty minor. But it sure can seem big when life in the greater scheme of things is forgotten. Sin is ugly. Life is short. People are small. God is big! There is a solution to the evil in this world. If you mix that all up and are either forgetful, or incognizant, of the solution, life becomes very dark."No good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless!" Whose walk is blameless? How do we become blameless? Think about it!

Addendum: I ran the first four miles then dropped out. The issue seems to be more an abdominal hernia than a torn labrum. At any rate, it has all paled when considering what happened at the finish line with the bombings. 

Screw Tape Letters—The Play

I went and saw CS Lewis play The Screw Tape Letters Friday (Nov 18) with some friends. It was in Manhattan for a short showing. The play, a recreation in dramatic form of Lewis’s classic book written in 1941, was well presented.

Lewis book, and consequently the play, draws out several key things: the focus on pleasure, the little sins like pride, that actually send us to hell. The book is not intending to produce a theology of hell or the demonic. But it causes one to think about ones own behavior and how easily it is to fall into that.

The actor—Max McClean—became a Christian in college. He is now working on a play from one of my all time favorite books, The Great Divorce, which is about a bus ride to heaven from hell. Lewis isn’t trying to create a theology of hell. So if you read the book, remember it’s a story. But I’d suggest reading both books and if its ever back again, go see the play.

Babette's Feast--A Review

I recently watched the Danish film Babette’s Feast. It was recommended by a friend who described it as a story of healing and reconciliation. The movie is set on a tiny coastal town in 19th century Denmark, where a small Christian sect quietly live out their lives together. The minister who leads the sect has two beautiful and gifted daughters. The young women never marry but remain true to their father’s wishes to take care of the aging people in the community. Theirs is a life of sacrifice and devotion. As the movie progresses, Babette, a French refugee, finds safety in their home after her husband and family are killed during an uprising in Paris. She faithfully serves them for fourteen years. Her only ongoing connection to France is a lottery ticket purchased by a friend on a yearly basis.

As the movie moves towards a climax, Babette and the aging sisters--their Father long since dead--discover that Babette has won the lottery. She is rich and able to return to France. In response, she makes one simple request: As an act of gratitude and love, she desires to cook a French dinner for the people in the town. Not only does she want to cook it but she desires to pay for it herself. The sisters hesitantly agree. As preparations proceed however, they fear that they have made a terrible mistake; one that could lead them, at best, down the path of ungodly pleasure or, at worst, to outright witchcraft. They decide partake of the dinner but choose to show no delight or satisfaction while eating it. Meanwhile the community is in conflict, people fear for their salvation over past indiscretions, and the sisters do not know what to do.

The meal is the climax of the movie. Its beauty and the careful preparation that goes into it loosen the townspeople up. There is reconciliation, forgiveness, and joy. The movie closes as the sisters sadly wish Babette well in her plans to return to France. But shockingly, she reveals that she will not be returning as she has spent her fortune on the meal for the towns people. Her greatest joy was in using her culinary art to bless those who so generously sheltered her in her time of difficulty.

Babette’s feast is a movie about beauty and its power to bring reconciliation and healing. The beauty of the feast, the artistry of its planning and preparation, the act of love it demonstrates with the obvious religious theme is refreshing. There is no overpowering characters, no excessive drama, and the Christianity displayed is not for proselytizing purposes. But the message is clear: beauty has healing properties. Joy and artistry has a place in redemption. I am reminded of the Psalmists personal declaration, “Surely you have granted [me] eternal blessings and made [me] glad with the joy of your presence” (Psalm 21:6). C.S. Lewis autobiography Surprised by Joy details how simple glimpses of unexplainable joy helped bring him to faith in Christ. And Jonathan Edwards in his sermon on Isaiah 32:2 notes this:

"The soul of every man necessarily craves happiness…Man is of such a nature that he is capable of an exceedingly great degree of happiness…It must therefore be an incomprehensible object that must satisfy the soul; it will never be contented with that, and that only, to which it can see an end, it will never be satisfied with that happiness to which it can find a bottom… Men in their fallen state are in very great want of this happiness…Men in their natural condition may find something to feed their senses, but there is nothing to feed the soul…There is in Christ Jesus provision for the full satisfaction and contentment of such as these. The excellency of Christ is such, that the discovery of it is exceedingly contenting and satisfying to the soul…Christ’s excellency is always fresh and new…" (Jonathon Edwards, “Safety, Fullness, and Sweet Refreshment to be Found in Christ,” Sermon on Isaiah 32:2)

Babette’s Feast points to that refreshment, that fullness, that healing beauty in Christ. I highly recommend it. Bon Appetit.

Book Review—Man Alive by G. K. Chesterton

I just finished reading the book, Man Alive. What a great book. The book is about one man, a guy named Innocent Smith, whose love for life prompts him to shoot at people (he’s an expert marksman and always seems to miss), remarry his wife over and over again, break into his own house, and pretty much shake up everyone he comes in contact with by his often bizarre behavior.

Smith’s unique journey to live life for all its worth begins in a college class where he is introduced to a nihilistic worldview. Coming to the end of himself, he would rather die than live a meaningless life. In a confrontation with his college professor he discovers, and to his amazement so does his professor, that life has meaning. It is worth living. He desires to be fully alive—thus the title of the book, “Man Alive.” Smith also helps others either embrace life or die. At one point, when confronting the reality that some people who live are, in fact, dead, Chesterton has one of his characters note, “We’ve been sitting with a ghost. ‘Blank’ (fill in the name by reading the story) died years ago.”

Chesterton is a Catholic and is known for his pithy sayings. Apparently years ago when a local newspaper posed the question, “What is wrong with the world?” Chesterton wrote a brief letter in response: “Dear Sirs: I am. Sincerely yours. G. K. Chesterton.” I can read a book written by a guy like that! The book has many of these kinds of sayings in it. At one point he has one of his characters note, “Marriage is a duel to the death which no man of honour should decline.” I have found this to be often true! Another Chesterton quote from the book, "I refuse to die while I am still alive."

The story unpacks Chesterton’s worldview but it’s not a religious work. A thoughtful reading of the book will challenge one’s thinking. Are any of us really desperately alive or do we just go through the motions of living, going to school, going to work, getting married, having kids, etc? The end of the book explains Smith’s often bizarre behavior with a humorous twist. I highly recommend it but it’s written in the early 20th century and Chesterton is British so his English is a bit tough but its worth it.

Slowing Down and Creating Space

I ran across this at a conference I recently attended. Slowing down, creating space for God, friends, life, leisure, is always a challenge. The poem is metaphor for the need we all have to create that sacred space.

Fire
By Sam Intrator and Megan Scribner in
Teaching with Fire: Poetry That Sustains Courage to Teach

What makes a fire burn
is space between the logs
a breathing space,
too much of a good thing,
too many logs
packed in too tight
can douse the flames
almost as surely
as a pail of water

So building fires
requires attention
to the spaces in between
as much as to the wood

When we are able
to build open spaces
in the same way
we have learned
to pile on logs
then we come to see how
it is fuel, and the absence of fuel
together, that makes fire possible

we only need to lay a log
lightly from time to time
a fire
grows
simply because the space is there
with opening
in which the flames
that know just how it wants to burn
can find its way

What Sean Bell Tells us about Race Relations

Sean Bell has been dead for a while now. But he’s still talking. It’s been a few weeks more than two years since Sean Bell, a black man, was killed outside a strip club early in the morning on his wedding day, November 26, 2006. He died under a hail storm of bullets when a police sting went bad. Two of the three officers involved were minorities. One officer, a minority, fired 50 shots from his service revolver. The officers felt their lives were threatened and had understood one of the suspects to have a gun. There was no gun. There was no crime being committed. There was just one big bad mistake.

Last May a judge handed down a verdict of not guilty for any of the police officers on any charges. I was a little surprised at the time, as it seemed that manslaughter, at least, would have been something they’d be charged with but it was not guilty. The black community was outraged per usual. In all of this there seems to me to be several challenges as we consider race relations and our human condition. First, people want justice. And justice sometimes doesn’t seem to be just. What is just for one person seems unjust for another. Would it have been just to put the police officers in jail? Second, it seems that we all need to believe the best about others a little more. The police officers heard one of Bell’s friends say he had a gun in his car. These friends were formerly convicted felons and they were all outside a strip club at 4:00 am. We can’t bring Sean Bell back but maybe whites and blacks alike need to believe the best in each other a little more. I have some terrific African American friends. I believe the best of them not because they are black or white but because they are human, created in the image of Almighty God, and have demonstrated that they are trustworthy. I could give you the names of some white people I wouldn’t trust for a minute. It’s not a white or black thing! It’s a people thing. Third, I think we need to spend time getting intentionally involved in the lives of those who are different than we are. How many of us actually go to someone’s home and eat if they are of a different race or different religion than we are? It’s rare, even in New York.

Each racial community brings special reminders of God that should be mixed into the soup of life. The relational meal smells really really good when a variety of racial spice is added! I think we all need to recognize the contribution each ethnic community brings and celebrate it. We also need to be aware of the negative tendencies of our own racial community. If we started dealing with the junk our own racial groups contributes to the trash of life perhaps we’d be less likely to be critical of others.

Beauty--do we recognize it?

Do we really recognize beauty when we see it? I recently read a story about one of the world’s greatest violinist, Joshua Bell who in conjunction with a group of researchers, decided to test our nations capacity to recognize beauty. Bell, a handsome single man, is also one of the world’s best violinists. Gathering his $3 million dollar Stratavarious violin, Bell went to a busy subway station in Washington DC, and for 45 minutes, played some of the worlds best music created for violin. He was dressed like a street musician and opened his violin case to collect money for his performance.

Someone filmed the experiment and upon review, noted that 1097 people passed by Bell as he played. Of that number, only seven people stopped to take in the performance for at least a minute. Another 27 gave money, most of them on the run, for a total of $32 and change. The author of the article concluded that we have lost our appreciation for beauty in the modern world. At the end of the article the author made this intriguing comment: “If we can’t take the time out of our lives to stay a moment and listen to one of the best musicians on earth play some of the best music ever written; if the surge of modern life so overpowers us that we are deaf and blind to something like that—then what else are we missing?” Intriguing right? It made me wonder what I am missing.

Beauty draws us in an invites us to engage, touch, tap our feet, sing along, ponder, and look. I’ve decided to take beauty seriously. I’ve been trying to smell the smells and see the sites a little more intentionally. The ability to run, surf, smell the ocean, see the mountains and trees, read poetry, listen to music, enjoy architecture, food, and people is all part of the experience of beauty that God gives us. It is my opinion that all beauty points to the creator of all beauty; God himself. The Psalmist says, “One thing I ask of the LORD, this is what I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple” (Psa. 27:4). The video is Pipeline in Hawaii. Beautiful!!

Let's Celebrate Twenty Eight

I like being married. I like my female friends. They are very dear. My male friends sometimes send me emails like the one I received yesterday with the title, Fairy Tale. It goes like this: "One day, long, long ago.......There lived a woman who did not whine, nag or bitch. But this was a long time ago....... and it was just that one day. The End." Apparently, some people don't like marriage. Maybe some men don't like women! The friend who sent this to me is a nice guy. He thought this was funny. But I get tired of hearing women constantly criticized by men. Perhaps my friend was constantly criticized by women or hurt deeply by a woman. It makes me wonder.

Saturday, Jan and I celebrated our twenty-eighth wedding anniversary. Not a bad accomplishment for a baby boomer. It doesn't even remotely resemble the Fairy Tale I quoted. I don't have as much hair as I used to and I'm not as muscular as I was the day we got married. Jan doesn't have the youthful appeal she did either. Should I expect her too? Beauty and physical strength is fickle and short lived. Even a sunset over the Pacific ocean, though beautiful, can't be completely captured. "The beauty of the natural world," says N.T. Wright, "is at best the echo of a voice, not the voice itself." The same thing could be said of relationships.

Everyone wants to be liked, loved, accepted, and special. Marriage is the deepest completion of that desire. And yet so many marriages end in bankruptcy. I think people were made for relationship, yet making relationships work, let alone flourish, is remarkably difficult. Jan and I have had our moments. Billy Graham's wife was once asked if she had ever considered divorcing her husband. Her answer is profoundly humorous, "Divorce? No. Murder. Yes!" There was a period in our marriage when, outside of divorce, I would have been happy to get out. Surprised? Sorry to disappoint you. I'm sure Jan felt the same way. But God in his grace and mercy invited both of us to take a deep inner look at what was real in us. It was hard. I'd have rather had a root canal. But in the end, it was worth it.

I had dinner last night with a friend in Christian ministry. He acknowledged that there were things in his marriage that were not right. It was eating him up. Just that morning he and his wife had had a terrible fight. I tried to encourage him and let him know that the best thing he could give his congregation was a healthy marriage. As a few of my friends have said, "The best thing you can give your kids, is a healthy marriage." I believe it. Gerry Scazzero recently asked a poignant question that went something like this, "How would it have benefited your marriage if your parents had gotten help for their own." Great thought! I hope my kids can someday look at me and Jan and answer in a positive fashion.

Beauty and the Soul of a Woman

I’m not a cross dresser. But I’ll admit that this winter, when I couldn’t find a pair of men’s running pants that fit, I tried a medium from the women’s rack—at the suggestion of the store attendant—and they fit perfectly. I have no idea why, but they do! I swore her to secrecy and now I’m coming out of the closet, so to speak, and can craft this post with a measure of integrity. I am going to write about women’s clothing and beauty. Here goes:

A couple of weekends ago I took my middle daughter Katie (see the picture) out to a woman’s clothing store to finalize her fitting for a bridesmaid dress. Walking into the basement I was astonished to see scores of dresses hanging along the walls, all big dresses for big women. And then to my amazement, when I looked into the mirror on the side of wall, I saw but a caricature of myself. I was smaller than usual or at least smaller than I thought I actually was. This was disturbing since I’m not so big to begin with! “All that weight lifting recently has done me no good,” I thought. But then my daughter stepped into the mirror and she looked smaller than she actually was and she’s anything but big. That’s when it struck me: the mirror created the illusion that the person reflected back was actually smaller than they were in real life. I have no idea whether this should be perceived as a really bad mirror or a really good business mind. Had the mirror intentionally been created to be that way? I don’t know. Any way you cut it, it disturbed me.

Being married to the same woman for 27 years, being the father to three daughters, one grand daughter, and having many fine women friends I have been privileged to learn a lot about women. I also have a mother (couldn’t leave her out even though she’ll never read this post). I am more than aware that our society imposes clear standards on what physical features are considered beautiful and which are not for women. Being slender and petite is one of the standards our society values. These standards are not typically applied in the same way towards men. I have recently been reading a book called Sex and the Soul of a Woman by Paula Rinehart. It’s an excellent read. (The last chapter is written about men and is worth the price of the whole book.) In reference to physical beauty, the author notes, “…there is no concept in our culture these days more conflicted than that of female beauty…I’m writing about something deeper, more intrinsic, than a lovely face or body. That kind of beauty a confident woman possesses is an odd mixture of mystery and warm allure that invites you always a little deeper into the essence of really knowing her.” (pg. 49) I think that this is true.

When you read the pages of the New Testament, you'll find that Jesus had a radically different view of women than the prevailing society. He valued women, respected women, and honored women. The same was true of the early church. Women were treated with more dignity than they were in everyday culture. (See The Rise of Christianity by Rodney Stark, Chapter 5). I know that, as a man, I swim in this culture like a fish swims in water, and its values and mores will affect me. But I hope that I value women not for how they look or how big or small they are but for who they are.

Beauty and Ugly in Hawaii

Someone died at Pipeline (a famous surf break for those who don’t know) last Sunday (March 16). I saw the ambulance go by as I drove out after Sunday service to surf at Alligator Rock and Marijuana’s on the north shore of Oahu, Hawaii. I heard the siren, pulled over, and let the ambulance (which was by then a hearse) race past me. I spent the next hour and a half surfing some of the most beautiful waves I’ve seen in years. Because of the direction of the swell the waves on Marijuana’s were double overhead rollers that, after riding them, deposited me in perfect position to see another break—Alligators—actually crash. The smooth, dynamic features of the curl and the way the wave broke, was like participating in a liquid dance. Back and forth, side to side, the water spilled in graceful beauty around me. I’d catch a giant roller then get a glimpse of a more complex breaker farther in without being punished for looking and getting too close. The sun, the wind, the warmth, the water all pointed me to a beauty beyond myself.

Then there was the siren, the ambulance, the grief of a family who lost a son, a brother, a boyfriend way too early in life. The kid they pulled out from Pipeline was maybe 23. He was a body boarder. The son of a friend of mine gave the guy C.P.R. but to no avail. For all I know maybe my friend’s son, a professional lifeguard, had to risk his own life to pull the body boarder out of the water! It was beauty and ugly in stark relief!! Isn’t this life?! One event, the death of a young surfer, points to the brokenness of this world because of our sin. The other event, surfing some of the most beautiful waves in the world, points to the beauty that can be ours in Christ. I’m unashamedly a follower of Jesus and on this resurrection day, I see the waves pointing towards the giver of new life: Jesus Christ. My wish is that he’d transform me into something as beautiful as those waves! Happy Easter.