"Family Man"

From Love & Thunder, 2003

Andrew Peterson

"I am a family man.  Traded in my mustang for a mini-van."

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So I wrote this a while back, but I heard this song the other day and it reminded me of the post.  I have decided to re-post here...

My big brother is expecting his first child in November. He and his wife have decided, rightfully, that they should probably move. Their current situation isn't too bad, but the 206 pound, indoor dog probably won't make a great roommate for the newest Love. I spent most of today helping Dan and his wife get ready to put their house on the market. I changed all of the faceplates, painted the baseboards, and probably ingested significant amounts of Swinger's hair.

I am equally excited and scared for Dan and Rach; the blessing of a baby meets unprecedented responsibility. You see, I know that marriages are supposed to become permanent when you exchange vows and a kiss before God and witnesses, but I think that the concrete gets even harder once a baby enters the frame. I am scared because I watched them fight today--really they were bickering--over what to have for dinner and when Dan would read the baby books.

Through Rach's quiet tears and Dan's leaving to make one more trip to the store, I thought, "God. I hope that they can survive all of this." Rationally I know that, yes, they can survive. The move and the baby and the daycare and the diapers are all surmountable. But piled together, along with college tuition and deferred dreams, will these early obstacles help create a pile too high to jump, or will the years cause Dan and Rach be too tired to try?

Here's the root of my doubt: My father left my mom two years ago. I was 23, Dan 25. Mom never saw it coming; dad had one foot out of the door for fifteen years. Once the kids were "on their own" he saw no need to stay. Now, he has a new sailboat and fiancée, while my mom's still trying to find the pieces--much less pick them up. Maybe a 28 year marriage is good enough-and asking for more is just being greedy. After all, people change. Maybe, but I really, really hope not.

I often wonder what the divorce of my parent's generation will do to us Millennial’s. Either we will all be too skeptical going in that pre-nuptials and separate checking accounts will serve as our safety nets, or we will be determined not to suffer for the sins of our fathers. I hope the latter is true with all of my being. I hope that Dan learns from our father's faults, and that he will do anything in the world to keep Rach by his side. I hope that this baby, which is the final curing process for their marriage, will make them solid. I hope that they never go to bed angry over baby books and supper times, and that they will still hold hands after 28, 35, 50 years.

To Dan, Rach, Baby, and soon-to-be outside dog, I send prayers for conquering and enduring love.

To dad, I send the wisdom of retrospect, and the courage to own your decisions.

To mom, I send healing hope, and peace that passes understanding, for I fear that understanding will not come.

To all of those with divorced parents, I send empathy, healing time, and a charge to love more completely than those who failed us.

"Plan B"

From Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, 2005

by Anne Lamott

"The opposite of faith is not doubt but certainty."

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I read this quote and thought, AMEN!  That is exactly what I have been thinking.  I tried my best to describe this phenomenon in my Andrew Peterson post from last month, but Lamott says it so much better.  I am amazed at her ability to describe concepts so perfectly in so few words.  Maybe if I were a professional writer, then I could do it too, but I am just a amateur blogger.  

SO, mainly I wanted to add this here as a footnote to my earlier post--and to say "Thanks!" to Anne Lamott for working through what she calls "shitty rough drafts" in order create art out of the silly English language.  

If you are a person of faith, but are unsatisfied with the BLACK and WHITE versions of old, you must read Anne Lamott.  

"A Little More"

From Lay It Down,2000

Jennifer Knapp

"What I do I don't want to do and so goes the story."

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This line comes from Romans, but for some reason I recite Jennifer Knapp in my head instead of Paul.  

I mostly think about this in relation to working out / eating healthy (which I know dumbs down the original meaning a bit).  No matter how much I tell myself that being healthy and feeling good about myself really is worth the effort, I can't seem to make it stick.  I have never once regretted spending time at the gym, but when the alarm clock starts singing, I hit the snooze.  I feel no more rested when I finally wake up, I just feel bad for skipping my morning exercise. 

It's hard for me to believe myself when I promise that this try will stick because I have been unsuccessful so many times.  If someone else lied to me as much as I have lied to myself, I wouldn't want that person in my life.  I guess I need to find a way to earn back my own trust--if that makes any sense at all. 

I don't know if Jennifer Knapp (or Paul) makes me feel better or worse.  Partly I think, "Well, at least I am not the only person who gets stuck," but I also think, "If after 2000 years of evolving, humans still find themselves in the same predicaments, what makes me think I can succeed any better than our friends in scripture?"   

I guess all I can do is to keep on trying, while trusting that I need something greater than humanity (which is proven to fail).  If, however, any of you have some magic answers to this age old question, please, share the wisdom. 

"No More Faith"

From Clear to Venus, 2001

Andrew Peterson

This is not another song about the mountains, 

Except about how hard they are to move.

Have you ever stood before them

Like a mustard seed that's waiting for some proof?

I say faith is a burden.

It's a weight to bear,

It's brave and bittersweet.

And hope is hard to hold to, 

Lord I believe; only help my unbelief. 

'Til there's no more faith,

And no more hope.

I'll see your face and Lord I'll know

That only Love remains...

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I love Andrew Peterson's music.  He tells the truth--and doesn't ignore the difficult parts about trying to live a life of faith.  This song is one of my favorites, because it speaks to the harsh reality that believers often experience.  

I often talk about faith as something that isn't absolute.  When I know that something is true beyond a shadow, then it takes no faith to follow.  To me, faith is knowing that even though I could be wrong, I follow nonetheless.  Faith is admiting that I do not have a monopoly on truth, but that the glimpse that I have found in this world makes sense, and I will follow still. 

I was watching TV around Christmas, and came upon a news story about a man who dressed as Santa, drove to his ex-wife's Christmas celebration, and killed several family members before burning the house down.  Later that night, one of the networks decided to re-run the opening ceremonies of the Olympics.  During the introduction of nations, cameras cut to basketball star Yao Ming holding a young boy.  This boy was chosen to walk in the ceremonies because during the earthquakes in China, his school collapsed and he walked back into the rubble and saved two classmates.  

Ever since hearing both of these stories on the same day, I have pondered the width of the spectrum of human capability.  I am brought to tears by stories of love and of hate every day.  I wonder where God is and how he/she can stand this, and I hear him asking back how we can stand it.

Having faith forces us to struggle with these questions.  How can humanity be so greedy, and yet graceful? Am I doing all I should?  Do I really need all of this stuff?  Are we really supposed to give to everyone who asks of us?  What about the people that take advantage of grace and kindness?

Yes, Mr. Peterson, Faith is a burden.  But it is faith that will hold us all until we need it no more. All we can hope for is that one day we will see your face, and the greatest of these will remain--and that is Love. 

Coming Soon!

I'm working on my first real post...check back in 2009.  I'll have something inspiring and somewhat unoriginal for you then.