What's Under Your Trenchcoat?

People are great. And sometimes they suck. I am constantly struck by the truth of Lori Chaffer's song Alone Everybody off the 1Beginning cd. If you haven't heard it, you should find some way to hear it. Basically, the lyrics present the human need for community in tandem with what I like to call the pain in the ass factor of having people around. Note* Lori Chaffer does not use that exact term to describe the disadvantages of community*.

Having people in our lives that truly know us is one of the scariest things I have experienced. I find myself constantly trying to avoid being known. When friends emphatically point out my flighty forgetful habits, or my habit of singing along with a songs I don't know more than 4 or 5 actual words to, or my sensitivity to harsh words, or my craving for more than one bowl of cookies and cream ice cream in the same evening, I feel exposed. This feeling of exposure translates into vulnerability and then creates insecurity. Why?

If we can really call it like it is. Reality in the kindgom of God should encourage us to be exposed. Because the ability of one person to unabashedly stand in front of others as themselves, quirks and all, the more we testify to one another of the love and security of God. God has created each of us so uniquely and with such creativity. And to think that all our disparites come to union in God's character says something about the vastness of Him. We can be assured that our tiny personality is encapsulated in one tiny speck of his immense being.

So eat your four bowls of cookies and cream ice cream. Snort when you laugh. Be clumsy and perpetually late. Go watch your science fiction dramas. Read about George Washington, and then tell all your friends why he was the most amazing man and president the United States has ever seen. Do it.

Expose yourself.

Beginning Number 1

So, I broke down and started a blog. All of the persecution and mockery from those who are in the blogging world led me to start typing about myself on a daily basis for everyone to read. So I will give it a try. Often though, before I get really comfortable with a new task or sport I try I usually have to quit and start again several times.

Let's take Ultimate Frisbee for example. I hate this sport. Yet I try it again and again. And what do I prove? How completely inadequate my athletic ability is. But for all of those who understand this need to prove your inability in an area repeatedly, we know that there is another reason for returning to "the field" even though last time didn't go so well. (Let's recall the frisbee to the mouth incident.) I do convince myself of my perpetual ability to accept failure over and over. Which is not an ability to be discounted. You can face many a devestating suprise with this ability tucked under your belt. I have much practice, much "emotional muscle" primed and ready to contract and perform during moments that for all you amatures (the people who seems to float effortlessly through life and on the Ultimate Frisbee field) would render you helpless. There is my moment of glory. It feels almost as good as catching that freaking hard frisbee in the endzone while everyone cheers. The sport of surviving failures however usually produces less cheering, at least audibly. Sometimes I think I hear it. It may just be tinnitus.

So here is my beginning in the bloging world. I may fail at it, but like Paul, I count all my loss as gain. And I have included a picture of all of us on the Ultimate Frisbee field. A bunch of failure amateurs and me, i.e. a bunch of winners and me.