Somehow, we’ve managed to make it through the last few weeks without being bombarded by stories and images of September 11, 2001.  This means that our kids’ views of the event haven’t been shaped by the media coverage or political speeches.  It seems like a teachable moment.  The lesson outline is still forming in my mind.  There are countless resources available online to talk to kids about it.  But that assumes that you’ve decided to teach them about it.

If you have children who have only known a post-9/11 America, have you chosen to talk to them about what happened that day and since?  Why or why not?  If you have, what was the one take-away lesson you try to impress on them?

I could rightly be accused of being a control freak.  (I prefer to think of it as planned independence.)  That’s my default.  I don’t like feeling hemmed in.  I always want options.  I like flexibility.  I want to be independent.  I want to decide my own fate.

For example, I don’t carpool to work.  If I need to run an errand during lunch or after work, I don’t want to be limited just because I rode with someone that day.  Or, I don’t want every detail of a vacation to be planned because I wouldn’t want to become enslaved to the itinerary.

This weekend, a group of us from church drove about 90 minutes north to help encourage another congregation.  We helped teach them some new songs, shared a meal or two, and added some strength to their voices by staying Sunday morning for a worship assembly.  Though a small congregation, they are a good group of people.  There is a kind and sweet Spirit among them.

My wife and I chose to ride with some other people that were going, too.  At her suggestion, we chose not to stay in the hotel in town.  Instead, we took our chances on staying with a host family – a roll of the dice.  (Think: This is an adventure.  This is an adventure.  This is an adventure.)  We did this all knowing that it was just going to be 24 hours.  We can survive anything for 24 hours, right?

Without getting bogged down in the details . . . the weekend ended up being exactly what we needed.  The singing was fun and encouraging.  But the icing on the cake was getting to know our hosts.  They are a delightful younger couple in their mid-20′s.  We sat and talked for hours about life, family, and anything else that came to mind.  It was as natural and refreshing as re-connecting with old friends . . . like a cool glass of water on a hot, summer day.

For the last few weeks, our lives have been long on hectic schedules, frustration, and general fatigue — and short on joy, dwelling in God’s presence, and simply being.  We were growing desperate for respite.  This weekend, I think we got a good measure of what we needed.

Had I been in control, we would have missed out on the best parts of a great weekend.

Have you ever noticed that some people have a way of making a room darker just by entering it?  There’s something about their personality, attitude, or outlook on life that makes you wish you were somewhere else.

Then there are people that can make almost any situation better simply by being present.  Sometimes it’s their demeanor.  Sometimes it what they say, what they do, or the expression on their face.  Whatever it was, they made your day better simply because your paths crossed.

Here’s where I could use your help:  Please share your ideas on how to brighten the day of a stranger. How would you make their day better?

Or:  If a complete stranger came up to you, what could they say to you or do for you right then and there that would make your day better — a little bit brighter?

I’m looking for ideas that are small enough that just about anyone could do it, but noteworthy enough that the other person would probably remember it at the end of their day and maybe even tell a friend about it.

Please post your comments here on this blog so others can join in on the discussion. Thanks!

Witness doesn’t quite fit into any of those categories for me.  It’s a familiar story with familiar characters.  Yet it has been an incredibly insightful book for me — not because of the story itself.  Instead, it is the way the main character tells her story that makes this book well-worth reading.  And it’s a quick read, too!  (Keep reading . . . no spoilers.)

Debbie Webb and Mary Owen almost effortlessly weave together a story (a testimony, if you will) of Mary Magdalene.  This book is written as a series of letters from Mary to a (young?) man.  It is through these letters that you read and experience critical moments in Mary’s life as her faith takes shape, as she sees Christ working in her life.

For most people that are familiar with the gospels, the stories are not new.  Webb & Owen take some liberties with the accounts from scripture, but none that I’d consider to be a radical distortion of the gospels’ intent.  (It is good to remember that this is a fictionalized account of Mary’s life.  It does have a strong basis in scripture, but some of it is literary license — artfully done.)

For me, what makes this book special is that it puts flesh on the people with whom Jesus made contact.  Sometimes, I fail to see those people as real, live people.  I catch myself thinking of them as two-dimensional figures in history — they existed in a time and a place, little more than a little ink on a sheet of onionskin paper.  I subconsciously think:  They’re not like us.  Our lives are messy sometimes.  We’re distracted.  We have disappointments and unfulfilled dreams, good days and bad days, close friends and abusive relationships. At best, I find myself looking in their story for a principle or rule for living.  Not so, this time.

Witness helped put a face, an emotional context, on Mary Magdalene that I could not ignore.  These letters have moments of raw and heated fury — and moments of tender, desperate longing.  My heart broke and soared along with hers.  It is the story of an emotional (& spiritual) journey of a real person who encounters Jesus, is buffeted by the circumstances of life, and is able to find strength and encouragement through it . . . because of her desperate love of Christ and his influence on her.

A walk with Christ is not one of facts and figures, times and places, logic and rules.  Those play a role.  But I think the essence of this journey is found in yearning to be with him — not in some far-off, eternal, in the next-life kind of way — but today.  And then letting him change who we are, who I am.

More information about Webb & Owen and their ministry can be found on their website.  (Curious what those symbols on the front cover mean?)

Just a bit of background:  My son has a thing for cars and other vehicles that look different.  Convertibles.  Monster trucks.  Garbage trucks.  He notices them.  Points out how awesome that pickup truck is — the one that you need a stepladder to get into.  Reminds us how he wants me to buy a convertible.  You get the idea.

We were sitting at an intersection when he noticed a Jeep Wrangler go by with its doors off.

Him:  Why do Jeeps sometimes have their doors off?

Me:  Because people sometimes like to drive with their doors off.

Yeah, but why can’t we?

Oh, because Jeeps are especially made so that their doors can be removed.

(Several seconds of silence . . . the kind of silence that tells you there’s another question coming soon.)

Why are special things expensive?

Why do you think special things are sometimes expensive?

I don’t know.

Do you think that expensive things sometimes cost more money to make?

Yeah.

Which do you think costs more to make — a convertible or a regular car?  (He has a thing for convertibles.)

The convertible.

Would you be willing to pay more money for a convertible than a regular car?

Yeah.

Suppose you invented something that a lot of people really liked.  Everyone thought it was pretty cool and wanted one.  Do you think they’d pay you money for to have one?

Yeah.

Do you think they’d be willing to pay you more for that new, cool invention than a regular version?

Yeah.

What makes you think they’d pay more for it?

Because they really want it.

What if you raised the price of the cool version?  What would happen?

No one would buy it any more.

Well, yeah, if you raised the price really high, no one would buy it.  But what if you raised the price just a little bit?  What do you think would happen then?

A lot of people would buy it.

And if a lot of people paid you a little more money for it, what would happen?

I’d have a lot of money.

Yep.

This was our first little life lesson on the effect of price on demand.  I’m under no illusion that this is a lesson that sticks with him right now or that he’s some budding entrepreneur.  A year ago, this would have been a simple “I want, I want, I want” conversation.  On this day, I’d like to think that this was a teaching moment . . . or at least an opportunity to look at “cool stuff” and their prices from the seller’s perspective.

Him: Dad, Barack Obama is our president now, right?  Who was our president before him?

Me: Yeah.  Before Barack Obama, George W. Bush was our president.

Why didn’t we vote for Barack Obama?

(I’m a little surprised at this question because I don’t remember mentioning this last fall.  And if we did, it would have been only because he asked.  It wouldn’t have been emphasized.)

Well, I didn’t vote for him because I don’t like some of his ideas about what he wants to do.

Like what?

(Wow, good question.) Well, for one, I think he wants to spend too much money.

Why don’t you like that?

(Hmm.  How to explain this….) Ok, see this road we’re driving on?  Who do you think built this road?

Workers.

Do you think the workers built this road for free?  How do you think they were paid?

With money.

Where did the money come from?

The government gave them the money?

Yeah, pretty much.  And where did the government get the money?

The President?

Well, sort of.  Let’s say that’s right.  Where do you think the President gets the money?

Hmm.  I don’t know.

Well, the President gets that money from me and other people that make money.  I have to give the government some of the money I make — that money is called tax.  Some of the money is spent on important stuff.  Some of it is spent on other stuff. (I’ll spare you my explanation of taxes, but it involved explaining “take home” pay versus gross pay.  I explained that in my estimation, I’m going to end up paying more in various taxes with the policies under this administration.)

Oh, so the other guy that ran for president . . . he didn’t want to make you pay taxes?

No, he wanted my money, too.  He probably didn’t want to take as much as Barack Obama.  Maybe.

So, what other ideas does Barack Obama have that you don’t like?

(It’s kind of tough to talk to a 6-year old about personal liberty, the role & limits on government, the appropriate level of government intervention in a capitalist economy & society, etc.  I managed to skirt those questions for another day.)

Eventually, our conversation wandered into economics, supply & demand, and the elasticity of demand.  I thought this was really getting interesting.  But I’ll save that for next time…..

Kids say the darnedest things . . . or so the saying goes. This week, I had a few interesting conversations with my 6-year old where he brought up some things that made me go hmm. Here’s one of those conversations.

We were out shopping for a birthday gift for my 4-year old daughter. A few miles from where we live, there’s a billboard along the highway that boldly proclaims Jesus Is Coming.

Him: Why is that sign there?

Me: What sign?

There’s a sign back there that says “Jesus Is Coming”.  Why is it there?

Because whoever paid to have that sign say that wants people to know that Jesus is coming.

Yeah but he already came.  Oh well, I guess that sign is from before.

What do you mean “before”?  Like when Jesus was born and lived like a normal guy?

Yeah.

Do remember about Jesus being born, living and teaching, then being killed on a cross?  Then they put him in a grave.  Then a few days later, he was alive again?  Does that sound familiar?

Yeah.

Then he spent a few weeks with his friends.  After that, he went up into the clouds?  Remember hearing about that?

Yeah.

Well, he’s going to come back in the clouds some day.

Okay.  I think the people who put that sign up are confused.  All the stuff in the Bible happened already.

Not quite.  Almost all of it has happened already.  But there’s a little bit of stuff that hasn’t happened yet . . . like Jesus coming back.  That’s why that sign is there.  To tell people that he’s coming back.

Oh okay.

I think that conversation might have been more interesting for me than it was for him.  It didn’t feel like a teaching moment.  Or even an educational moment.  It felt more like a sharing moment, of sorts.

Up next, a conversation about politics with a 6-year old.

Jesus is seated on a hillside, perhaps overlooking the Sea of Galilee in the distance.  Throngs of people have gathered to hear Jesus, whose fame is increasing every day.  The people crowded in and around Jesus to hear him and to see him.  Perhaps on this day, they’ll be able to see a miracle like has been rumored.  Jesus begins to teach.  They listen with bated breath to his every word.  All eyes are on him.

People from the city, the villages, and the country have gathered to hear this rabbi teach.  Young and old.  The schooled and the simple.  The wealthy and the poor.  Clean and the unclean.

Ah, the unclean.  The ceremonially unclean, though not necessarily because of sin, they’ve been separated because of their uncleanness.  Separated from their community until they no long suffer from their condition.  On this day, it’s a man with some sort of skin disease and is unclean because of it.  He’s come to hear this rabbi teach, but only from a distance.  Close enough to hear.  Not so close to cause an issue with the other people.

The people are amazed at his teaching.  It’s different from anything (& anyone) that they’ve ever heard before.  This rabbi speaks and teaches with authority.

As Jesus leaves this place, the crowd parts, making a path for him.  He passes near this skin-diseased man: this man who has been cut off from his people for an unknown number of days or months . . . or years.  A man who may not have known the touch and acceptance of his fellow man in quite some time.  A man who has not lived in community with others in all that time.  All because of this skin disease that has made him ceremonially unclean.

Seeing Jesus so close to him, he falls to his knees, desperately crying out to this man he calls “Lord”, a man of authority.  Lord – if you’re willing, you can make me clean.

Then Jesus did the unthinkable.  He touched him.  I’m willing.  Be clean.  Don’t tell anyone, but go tell the priest so you can be declared clean to the community. (My paraphrase.)

But this man can’t do it.  He can’t keep this news to himself.  He’s been cured.  Made clean.  Restored.  Made whole.  Accepted.

What made this man so sure that if Jesus was willing, he could make him clean?  What excited him so much that he could not help but disobey a direct command from Jesus? — he had to blab about it everywhere he went.

Many people know that the word gospel means good news.  But for this guy on this day, gospel meant great news.  And great news is not meant to be bottled up.  Great news is meant to be shared.  To be told.  To be celebrated.

(This comes from accounts in the gospels of Matthew, Mark, and Luke.)

• How do eccentric tastes suddenly become a mainstream movement?  Seemingly overnight?
• What is it about trendsetters that makes them able to set off trends for the rest of us?
• What does an epidemic flu or AIDS or teenage smoking have anything in common with shoe fashion, kids television programming, or crime sprees?
• Ever notice how great and innovative ideas seem to flounder despite our best efforts — until the right person sees it?  Or until the right environment exists for it?  Why is that?
• Is there a way for us mere mortals to start epidemic movements of our own?

Gladwell sets out to answer some of these questions.  He tries to put some of the pieces of this puzzle together for the reader in a journalistic style.  He has collected information from scores anecdotes, historical accounts, and psychological experiments to build his case.

The book is compelling.  He starts with a premise and builds the rest of his argument on that premise — which is that ideas, products, messages, and behaviors behave the same way that viruses do.  And when a catchy idea, product, message, or behavior gets in the hands of the right kind of person, and when it is shared in the right environment — that idea can spread like wildfire.  (Like mono spreading through a high school….)

The quintessential example that Gladwell uses to illustrate this idea of a tipping point is that of Paul Revere.  The story of Paul Revere on his midnight ride through the Massachusetts countryside to spread news that the British were coming is interesting.  With this warning, many of those communities had time to prepare for the arrival of the British regulars.  What makes it fascinating is that another man made a similar journey at the same time, but had very little effect.  What made the difference?  That question is at the crux of this The Tipping Point.

At some points in the book, Gladwell’s original premise shines through so strongly, it leaves one wondering if he has selectively chosen specific experiments to prove his point.  In the midst of reading his book, his case is made so strongly, that the reader could be excused for concluding that all Change  (personal, societal, cultural, etc) behaves like an epidemic.  I disagree on this point.

Having said that, this book is still insightful and can be useful.  For those who are in the business of changing group behavior, there are ideas in The Tipping Point that could help.