And now it’s time for “Silly Sayings With Liberal Lloyd” (stolen from “Silly Songs With Larry”)

Hi, it’s Liberal Lloyd here, bringing you some silly sayings to brighten your day and put a bounce in your step. After all, everyone deserves that. Right?

I’ve been thinking lately: If it’s such a great idea to simply legislate that something is bad or wrong and therefore should be illegal, and if it’s such a wonderful idea that if something is good or right, we need to make laws which make the inaction such things illegal, then why not be consistent? For the sake of maintaining and improving health, preventing disease, reducing deaths, decreasing sickness, curbing addictive behaviors, and ensuring the longest, best possible life for everyone, I hereby offer these consistent suggestions, categorized nicely. Let us all agree upon following them, for the betterment of our nation and everyone in it, of course.

The human body:

Certain height and weight ratios lead to severely increased health risks, lower quality of life, poor self esteem, body image issues and decreased interaction with children. Therefore, adults with BMI’s of a certain percentage and above will be required to undergo forced weight loss facilitated by in-house treatment centers where rehabilitation will be required before release. Too extreme of an example to begin with? Fine, just… Continue reading

a perfectly executed rear naked choke with body scissors…toddler style

This entertainment brought to you by: Small Fry and Stellan. Videography by MckDaddy.

Untitled from Jennifer McKinney on Vimeo.

No children were harmed during the making of this clip…aside from temporarily diminished pride, which was quickly restored with a hug. Continue reading

Am I listening?

Hearing God?

“A daring idea, some would say…presumptuous and even dangerous. But what if we are made for it? Is it not, in fact, more presumptuous and dangerous to undertake human existence without hearing God?” Dallas Willard

I don’t know when the last time you heard God speak to you was. If you have heard His voice, I’m curious if you’d be the first in a group to admit it.

This Thursday, I went to listen in on a speaker who was discussing with us the topic of prayer. Well beyond an interesting concept, prayer is. Yes, once in a while I write in Yoda-ish, I do. Engaging in the ebb and flow of conversation with The All Knowing, All Powerful, All Present Being Himself; more like universe ceiling shattering unbelievable as I ponder. Though, actually I don’t think of myself, as some Christian circles describe, a prayer warrior. Casual, routine, predictable, maybe even consistent but too much yada yada I would describe my prayer experience.

I don’t recall the speaker mentioning individual concepts that seemed to me at the time to be epiphanic in nature. Yet somehow, perhaps the cumulative message, all the bits and pieces together formed a kind of impressionable picture for me that was quite new: the significance of waiting for, recognizing, and listening to His voice.

I can imagine you’ve guessed already that the speaker mentioned that sometimes, when we pray or talk to God, this is often all that we do. Talk. I fit somewhere centered inside the hump of that bell curve. I’ve even written about how I commonly pray with the acronym ACTS (Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, and Supplication).

I’d certainly offer my hand high in the air if I were asked “Do you listen for God’s messages?” Yea, I mean, I pray alone, with our kids, attended church and small group, read the Bible, as well as other scripture based books so yea, I’m listening. Although, that really isn’t listening, is it? To belabor the point a bit, let’s say I talked at you, talked at you with our kids, went to two places once a week, one where someone talked about you and read from something you’d written, the other where we all talked about you sometimes reading your book sometimes reading a book someone else wrote about you, and even read your blog every so often. Would you consider with all my activity then that I’d been listening to you? Tables turned I wouldn’t get the feeling you were really listening to me all that well.

The speaker quoted John Eldridge, most likely at the time word for word. I offer here my memory of it, “The whole world is filled with God’s voice if we’d only listen.” That was perhaps the most enjoyable nugget I received that evening. She went into the history of God speaking. How, prior to Jesus coming to earth, God spoke through the prophets. He spoke in the New Testament through Jesus and today by the Holy Spirit. I was being a bit deceptive earlier on using the word “voice” when referring to God. I didn’t and don’t mean audibly necessarily. By His voice I’m talking about how he speaks to us. The speaker mentioned scripture, pictures, words, impressions, sensations in the body or emotional pain as ways in which we can tune into His voice. My antenna has been so far down I believe I’m in the process of digging it up out of the dirt at some unknown depth.

She spoke about stopping, being still, waiting and asking the spirit to speak to us, inviting His side of the conversation. My conversations with Him have been so one-sided. I didn’t get the sense I was hearing Him during our practice and co-operative prayer sessions that evening but, sweet fancy, I heard Him in my dream last night. And any of you out there that share my, oh, about 15 year history now with a morbid lack of dream recollection ability will without question know what I mean when I say I had a vivid dream last night. I’m not an early riser, and I don’t know that 5:48 am actually counts for early rising, certainly not when compared with my dairy farming neighbors whose trucks I see parked back in their driveway, for breakfast, back from morning chores already before 6:00 am…but it’s early for me and that’s when I woke from it, not even a yittle (Nuggy speak for very small) groggy.

During the prayer meeting the speaker had us sit still and meditate quietly for about ten minutes on four verses. She advised us to circle words that meant something to us, draw pictures that we saw, or write down things that were making impressions. About an hour later, we got into groups of four and prayed for each other. One of the gals there wrote two words down earlier on her paper and those words were, unknowingly, prayed for her during this time by two different people in her group. She spoke up about it afterward and was visibly ecstatic…she had heard God’s voice. A small number of others offered their experiences in hearing His voice and through different means that evening. I had invited the spirit to speak to me about something for me to hear as well as hearing things for others, but I didn’t hear the unequivocal thunderous boom of His voice. Not that His voice is loud, because maybe it’s not; what I’m saying is I know it when I hear it. And I get the feeling that’s universal. But I’m pretty new at this, so that last sentence don’t mean much.

I’ve had prayers answered before. Undeniable, God who spoke the stars into the skies, genuine, The Great I Am type answered prayers. So I know talking to Him works. And the fact that you’re even reading this is substantial evidence that maybe you acknowledge this as well. Now this other side of the conversation is opened up to me and it’s new and limitless, and yea, a yittle scary.

Anyway, when I woke up I remember thinking about the lyrics of that song, that rich and flesh tingling song Redeemer by Nicole C. Mullen where in the lyrics she sings, “I spoke with Him this morning.” I imagine I won’t be able to hear that song again and not think of this morning when I heard Him speak back to me.

When was the last time you heard God speak to you? Continue reading

Breaking the law, I’m breaking the law. And my image.

On Sunday morning, before I woke up, I was intending to go to church with our family. We leave right about 9:00 am to arrive in time to get the kids to their classes and then mosey on over to service in time for some of the most enjoyable singing I’ve ever been a part of. Well, turns out, I woke up at 9:02 am. My wife had already bathed the kids and was finishing getting them dressed when I stumbled into the bathroom wiping the sleep from my eyes. She asked, “Can you be ready in several minutes?” To which I answered, “No.” I had valued my selfish desire to sleep in, had neglected setting my alarm, both of which led to my neglecting the gathering of the brethren. I desired to eat breakfast before leaving as well. My wife and kids were going to leave ahead of me, and I was to finish getting ready then drive myself there and meet up with them later.

Turns out, about a month ago, I had been pulled over for having a tint applied to my vehicle’s front driver and passenger side windows, which surpassed the current legal limit. I was assigned a non-mandatory court date and advised by the officer to simply remove the excessively dark tint prior to the court date and provide proof of such removal and any penalty, potentially pending, would be dismissed. Well, by no one’s fault but my own, I displayed a lack of willingness to attend said court date or call corresponding governmental offices and simply inquire of the fine attached to such offense and pay for the relatively minor ordeal. I did nothing, save have the tint removed. The court day came and went. A fine was assessed in addition to the revocation of my driving privileges provided by the State of Minnesota. Therefore, oops, I couldn’t meet up later on at church now could I? Which sent my wife and I into an argument which, well, happens at times when we are trying to get out the door to church. Those are funny things looking back. Here, let me rewind for you, “Let’s hurry up, we gotta get there.” and boo hoo with the whole feelings, respect and love thing, “Dang it! We gotta get to church for praise and worship, now move it!”

I disregarded mail sent to me reminding me of the court date. I wholly and completely abandoned my few and easily reconciled responsibilities in this matter. Now the once small snow ball has grown into a larger one. I, rightfully so, must now contend with the very annoying inconvenience of not being able to legally drive until I pay the fine and reinstate my suspended license, or face the further consequences of the potentially enlarging snow balling effect of being caught disregarding this.

I have contributed less, in comparison with my wife, to the financial needs of our family over the course of quite a number of months now. And to further generate tension in the matter, I don’t currently possess the funds to pay for either the fine or the reinstatement fees. Are you beginning to see how what I’ve created is less than a pleasant experience for both myself, my wife and our family in general? Naturally her money and my money is all our money, but still.

Now comes the image part of this equation. It’s a curious yet relatively substantial portion. Believe it or not, there are those among my wife’s readership (I intentionally describe you as readers of my wife’s writings, as I don’t flatter myself with the idea anyone would have any notion of me without my relationship with her.) who find value in watching her public records, and mine and our activities in general. I fail in understanding the “why” some would do such a thing, although, I question if that alone discredits the purposefulness of such inquiries. Simply because I’ve never sought out information in regard to someone’s public information, I imagine, doesn’t mean then that anyone who does so is…(insert your own ideas). What seems to be a means in the purpose of these inquiries is that of discrediting, shaming, pointing to faults, keeping record of wrongs and attempting to detach others’ association with us…to what end? I’m unaware. My guess would be to the end of our tarnished image or something similar.

Where are the lines in the sand regarding relationships for you? What words or actions are deal breakers for association with you? In your circle of influence, what comes to mind in justifying the termination of a relationship? What are those irredeemable things? I’ve recently had some experiences with this. An organization has advised my wife, as a result of some of my past behaviors and recent blog postings, that the content of ideas I offer were incompatible with theirs and therefore has severed their relationship with her and us. My conclusion is this, and other similar decisions, was made in large part for the benefit of what might happen to these organizations’ images, the ones who maintain an association with me. I don’t blame any organization for feeling this way or making such decisions; the decisions are theirs to make. I’m not even convinced that it’s wrong in and of itself for the organization to distance themselves from us. Still, I can agree to disagree with the decisions they made. I could type out a litany of fairly convincing evidences in support of my side of the disagreement. But why would I do that? Because I’d like to protect my pride mostly, I imagine, so I’ll stifle any of that. More importantly, is my belief that the organization I speak of is among the planet’s greatest organizers, contributors and perpetuators of a tremendous number of acts of service. They extend the often difficult duty of loving the hurt, hopeless and faithless here and, in fact, around the world. As organizations are, it is lead by people. And people, yes, you and definitely myself included, have the propensity to be less than admirable on occasion. Organizations led by people will inevitably mirror such flaws, be they petty or significant. Fact is, on the scales of what such organizations represent, what they do and even the actions of the individual folks themselves, the balance is tipped so far to the good side that the other side really is insignificant.

Image is everything. You’ve likely heard it said. I think some major company out there has even taken it so far as to coin the phrase as their slogan. Twisted. Maybe you’ve even tried, as I have, or (I’ll type this next part quietly, “are trying”) to pursue or maintain your image as being everything. Now, image has value, no doubt. In business, we contractors who pay our nearly $500 annual membership fee to the local BBB so they can keep a record of our shortcomings most certainly see the value in image. The shorter the list of complaints on record, for those who take the time to look, the better chance we’ve got of obtaining the potential customers’ business. Perhaps more importantly, and often overlooked by the way, is how well, quickly and satisfactorily the complaint is resolved. For surely, none of us can be expected to perform in life, be it in business, relationships, personally or otherwise, entirely without fault. Therefore, fault being a given, a priority is placed on the making right of wrongs.

Still, some may contend that image really is everything. If, by image, they are thinking of the definition of integrity, then I have a difficult time arguing. But a focus on the surfacy, skin deep, really the illusion of projecting an image as one’s priority, inevitably will end in failure. Why? Because for the sake of protecting one’s image one will deceive, lie, hide or pursue other less than admirable characteristics in order to preserve such a highly cherished image. And I know this from personal experience.

Growing up I had an obsession with image. My family moved frequently and therefore I was commonly the new kid at school. And if you weren’t one of us who moved all the time, then you may
remember when we new kids showed up, because we’d be tested, if you will. And those of you who moved a bunch, like me, know exactly what I’m writing about. And if you were one of the unfortunate few who did the testing then you’ll undoubtedly remember because you likely got hurt, humiliated, or more likely both. Go ahead and think of me as a caveman, even call me one, this doesn’t change that that’s the experience grade school was for many of us. Shucks, high school wasn’t tremendously different. The all important pecking order. Everyone knowing their place. Well, I can’t write too intelligently about the girls, but the boys anyway, we knew our places. By eighth grade I was 6′ tall, ran a sub 4:40 mile, high jumped 5’10″, dunked a volley ball and ripped off 500 consecutive sit ups. You pretty much had to bring your A+ game to knock the chip off my shoulder. I wasn’t the toughest kid in town, but there were few who had a leg up on me and fewer still with a bigger ego. All that to say, in my experience, image is so easily intertwined with ego, pride and a misplaced self-worth.

By my sophomore year, I ran a sub 4:30 mile, benched 215 lbs, dunked for real, dated arguably the most desirable girl in school and had my head so far in the clouds I’m not even sure if it was in this solar system. I ended up being prom king and was a high performer in the different sports I played. I had attempted to be everything to everyone, and the strain of my efforts had paid big time returns…even if they were short lived. But for the time being, then that is, it was tough to find a more well liked young fella. Other guys wanted to be me and other girls wanted to date me and I was living that life some consider a myth.

The story doesn’t end, mostly because I’m still breathing and typing this, but my image ended. Yes, it died. Progressively, bit by bit. Altogether, it took the course of about ten years for the darn thing to actually quit kicking. The culmination of events, including my arrests for Domestic Abuse, were my image’s final death twitchings. I literally was faced with rediscovering my identity and self worth. The value I found in my all precious image was now worthless. What others thought of me changed, seeing as my Domestic Abuse record was and is so socially unacceptable. I was forced to find acceptance, worth and value in something other than what others thought of me. It hurt, I mean pain, to rebuild myself beginning with facing my inadequacies, core hurts, vulnerabilities and personal shortcomings of all sorts that I’d been covering up with humor, intimidation, lies and who knows what else…all to protect my image.

After facing all my baggage, I had to rebuild my value system, find out what was actually important to me. God, country, family, integrity, personal responsibility, selflessness among others are of critical value and priority. Next, as well as currently, I have the honorable and difficult duty of working these values out in my daily life. Which isn’t easy because I’m a hypocrite, a failure, negligent, lazy, a selfishly illegitimate individual more often than should fit with what I profess to value. So I walk out along this road I’ve set before myself, upon which what I value I’m unable to consistently fulfill. What a miserable existence, some would say. And on my bad days you might catch me sulkily nodding in agreement. Only because I’m human, though. Shoot, even Iron Mike Tyson got knocked the expletive out. And if anyone was ever unstoppable, it was Iron Mike Tyson. Not convinced? Watch his first twenty some fights…you’ll be a believer. Point being, there comes a very real paradox in reconciling what can’t be reconciled. I write the values of such things of which I don’t have the integrity account from which to draw the funds. I’m so easily discredited, my image that is. Ah ha, but I’m not my image any more. My values are greater than I am individually. Those who would see my image tarnished, would in reality exponentially rather see my values tarnished. But they can’t be. Though I believe in these specific values doesn’t mean I represent them. They represent themselves, or maybe more precisely, they represent the One who makes them valuable. My image is as far removed from my values as the top is from the bottom…they couldn’t be any further separated. Naturally, I strive to have my image match my values, but often it doesn’t match. The two are not the same thing.

Anyway, regardless of if this is literally true or not, I have this image of some folks in their parents’ basement somewhere hacking away at their computers in their underwear looking on the Intertubes to find some ammo to break my image. I’d like to shake that image from my mind by declaring, “Homey, I ain’t gots no image no mo’! I came clean. Cracker, please!” Continue reading

the war on drugs

What does winning the war on drugs look like to you? And what is a functional, or the best, way to get there?

When did it become society’s responsibility to keep certain substances from individuals? I am not convinced it should be the job of others (outside of parents in relation to their minors) to ban drugs. Would regulation, similar to the existing regulations of alcohol, be a viable solution? My vote is yes.

Prohibition, clearly after nearly four decades since President Nixon declared “drug abuse…to be public enemy number one in the United States,” has not proven to be the functional answer. A quick look at the statistics on our drug war illustrates the losing battles on every front. Why do we continue the fight with this approach? What’s the cost of the war? I argue that its casualties are tremendous and its price tag is perhaps only less ominous than the obscurity of those price tags. How many children of well meaning law enforcement workers need to grow up visiting dad or mom at their headstones because the ultimate price was paid in a war that has no hope of victory?

Yes, no hope, not down this road. And if you disagree, I contend that you may be either in denial or ignorant (Settle down, the word simply means that you don’t know something.). By insisting on the current course of action, we declare that tragedies like this as well as others are worth the results we see from continuing on this way. Fact is, the progress from our course of action in the drug war is a net negative. We’re worse off now then ever. Illegal substances are more readily available, there are more users in every age group, the violence as a direct result of obtaining and controlling the profits of illegal substances has reached fear raising heights, and there is no indication of a decrease expected. Gang activity from unsophisticated thugs all the way up to highly organized cartels and everything in between is swelling. The profits from the sale of illegal substances are the driving force behind almost all the societal ills related to a market now gone underground. And if you think the path we are on has been effective, then I can only hope you’ll keep the slightest opening in the door to your reasoning, as if you do, my guess is you might end up acknowledging that this is not the best course of action, not even close.

I don’t believe that by maintaining that something should be legal means I am therefore condoning it. Although, if I declare something illegal, then I remove individuals’ ability to assert personal responsibility. Which in the end is the ultimate solution-personal responsibility, that is. If I use drugs, then I own the full continuum of what results from my drug use. And if those results are to the detrement of others, then the law will penalize me accordingly. The root causes of many drug problems actually stem from conditions that are inherent within human nature, like self destructive behavior, depression, anxiety, peer pressures, experimentation, rebellion and distress of all kinds. These all boil down to one thing that matters…a market. A legislation cannot exist in practice or theory that will eliminate the want, need and desire for the drugs that create the market. And for the right price, someone will suffer the risk of any deterrent whether that be jail time, fines or even death. The human conditions aren’t going to subside, drugs aren’t going to disappear, and when dealers are incarcerated or killed, others simply fill their places. I contend that only when we allow each other to be the sole recipients of our actions, then and only then can we see drug use and abuse for what it is and start to see it decline.

I don’t agree with illegal substance use. It’s damaging to the individual’s health in every regard, except perhaps temporary stress relief. Worse yet, the damage is not contained to the individual alone. It seeps to everyone in the home. In some of the worst examples, others pay hideous second hand prices like death, emotional, physical and sexual abuse at the hands of the users or those associated with the user. These and other consequences of illegal substance abuse are wholly miserable and unjust.

I remember when I was growing up, the worldly culture was pumped to me and my peers relentlessly by movies, TV, music, magazines and other media. Illegal substance use had a glamorized, exotic and all around magnetic appeal. It’s what the rich and famous did; people who had arrived. A source of pleasure, release and even a way to further one’s understanding. These were the perceptions attached to the use of illegal substances like tobacco, alcohol, pot, mushrooms, LSD, even cocaine. These are the messages my friends and I received from outlet giant MTV among others. And these, even while we were still in high school, were available through a variety of sources. You could buy them from the jocks, punks, nerds, dirts, skaters, preps, about any group you felt most comfortable with obtaining them from, some one could “hook you up” (Please, I’m not labeling these groups or judging them, this is what different clicks were referred to as back in school and likely still are, so you are free to save your comments that I’m calling people names or belittling.).

I feel passionately about this issue. I have a tremendous number of thoughts about it. I was tuning into a local talk show host based right here in Minneapolis the other day, and the host spoke as intelligently as anyone I’ve ever heard on the topic. So I’m going to link to the last two podcast segments (segment 2 and segment 3) of his discussion about this rather than carrying on myself. His name is Jason Lewis and he’s recently gone nationally syndicated and for good reason. He’s absolutely brilliant, passionate and as well read as I could only hope to be in several lifetimes. Please, if you’re familiar with the self proclaimed Mr. Right, and are aware that he does not take the historical events of the Old Testament literally but merely figuratively, then good for you. I don’t agree with him on that specific topic, either, but I encourage you to refrain form dismissing his insights in other areas just because of this. If you dismiss him for that reason ,then you should be consistent and not receive any information from anyone, as each of us is wrong about something.

I’m also sharing a light hearted poke at drugs in the form of Ali G who I find buckles me in two with his ability to straight face. The audience is distracting and annoying but…consider, enjoy and let’s all get stoned. I’m kidding.

I wrote this post a few weeks ago and have since watched Drug Wars: Silver or Lead. It’s an instant on Netflix. The film certainly delivered on the horrific tragedies of kidnappings, murders, police and government corruption and, well, the overall price that’s being paid along our border(s) which inevitably will find its way to each of our front yards if we continue with these current tried and failed tactics of fighting the drug war. Being in Minnesota, we don’t hear nearly as much about the chaos that the states of Texas, Florida, California, Arizona and New Mexico contend with. I don’t want to hear about them.

I don’t want to hear about them mostly because I don’t want them to be happening there…or here. I think there is hope, though, of fighting a winning war on drugs, if we veer from the course of action our country is currently on. Continue reading

late night interview with Big Mac while waiting for Mom to get home from girls’ night out

Me: What would you like to talk about?

Big Mac: I don’t know what would you like to talk about dad?

Me: Lets talk about whats important to you.

Big Mac: Well, what’s important to me and Nuggey is working on instructions.

Me: Tell me what else is important to you.

Big Mac: The next important thing that is important to me and Nuggey is diggin. That is especially important to me dad.

Me: What are some things that should change in the world?

Big Mac: At our museum things change, right dad, they add new things every day. Magic stickers can change colors if they are a rainbow. And a shiny new badge can change colors too.

Me: What do you think is important to God?

Big Mac: Important to God is telling everyone what is right and wrong. Especially people who don’t believe in God. Who doesn’t believe in God and Jesus, Dad?

Me: Some people just don’t, they don’t understand.

Me: How did you get so smart?

Big Mac: Because I know about Jesus Dad, just cause I know about Jesus. I’m smart cause I’ve always been smart.

Me: What are some of your favorite things about spring and the weather getting nicer?

Big Mac: Oh, I don’t work in the cold really as much as I do in the spring. I don’t work as much in the snow but I do work in the snow cause it has to be shoveled.

Big Mac: What question would you like me to ask you?

Me: I don’t know.

Big Mac: Where do you work?

Me: I work in replacing people’s roofs and siding.

Big Mac: Uhm, what kind of shirt do you wear at night time?

Me: I don’t wear a shirt like pajamas during night time. My shirt is my blankets.

Big Mac: Well, who do you think I should pick for getting married, dad?

Me: That’s amazing that you would ask me that, uh, I have to think a minute. You actually just asked me that, wow. I think you should marry someone just like momma.

Big Mac: What kind of pet do you like, Dad?

Me: When I was a kid, I liked dogs. And when I got older I imagine I would like to have a horse.

Me: How come you’re so much cooler than dad?

Big Mac: Well, cause I’m a little bit smarter, cause I can get stronger by pulling things, and I can carry three things at a time, and I can carry a really heavy suitcase that has wheels.

Me: How can Dad be cooler?

Big Mac: Well you just have to think of cooler things you can do. That’s how you can be cooler than me dad.

Me: If you could do anything you wanted to do what would you do?

Big Mac: Well, I would like to go to the museum. Play at the play ground, when it’s spring time.

And I told him he could ask me one more thing before he went to bed. He asked me to spin the fitness ball on my finger and then let him hit it off. So we did and he went to bed. What are some of the funny things your kids say or ask? Continue reading

daily habits by design with values in mind…and rhyme

If I ever get a chance to meet you, and I’m anything resembling what I have been like until now in my life, and if I’m really honest with myself…I’ll be sizing you up. Well, if you’re a guy, then I’ll size you up. If you’re a gal, I may be tempted to size you up and back down. The first look is free, can we all agree on that? And if you’re dressing in a manner that begs guys’ attention beyond that then, well, stop it. And get your attention desires met by your spouse so we guys aren’t over here tempted to give the attention. Fine, I admit that’s where gals’ responsibility ends and ours begins, but it sounds better to me when I say it like that first. Anyway, the point I’m trying to make here is about comparing.

I think I size you up and compare myself with you because of a lack of self worth or maybe better said a misplaced self worth. Here’s my attempt at an explanation:

I like to think I’m a realist. Used to think I was an optimist, maybe I was, but realist better describes me now. Hopefully I’m not on my way to becoming a pessimist.

Anyway, competition is a good thing. And I won’t change that opinion until I lose. Seriously though, didn’t we all grow up with competition all around us? During our schooling years, competition was literally present every single day. I mean, depending on what you were into, academics, sports, music, politics, chess club, marketing club, forgive me the activities I’m missing here. They were all designed to see how well each of us could excel. Now ideally we were to be challenging ourselves. Using our talents, personal bests, and previous experiences as the measuring tool of achievement. But who did that? My aim was to beat you at whatever I was doing. Ok ok, unless it involved brain activity, then I just conceded. Rarely did I push myself to see what I could do, but more so pushed myself to see if I could beat you. I think, after years of this backward thinking, I got a fairly unrealistic view on who I was, and rather, I thought in terms of who I was better than.

I was at a seminar once (I’ll remember in a minute who it was…Jim Rohn), where the speaker advised us that we find our self worth largely in our daily habits. Now by that I believe he assumed some things: habits that are consistent with our values, I imagine preferably manageable and trackable as well. But anyway, just that, our daily habits. Whatever they may be.

It’s dizzying to me how I enjoy imagining that I can be all things. I want to play instruments (currently can’t play a note), fly a plane (haven’t gotten past the introductory flight), speak different languages (good guess, only this one so far), make x amount of money (still owe a bunch a people a bunch of money), be such and such husband and dad (still working on peace and fulfillment here), be physically fit and maintain a ridiculous physique (well, just look at me), be so light footed yet so strong (thanks for the inferiority complex Nick Neilson). I want to own guns and amass a fortress of them (yup, I am currently gunless aside from the two attached directly below my shoulders), be able to swim so fast, run so far, jump so high, basically be tougher than any villain at any given moment, be a great lover, be absolutely sick in Halo or any other first person shooter game while not allowing the nerdyness of a true gamer to stick (might as well scratch this off the list as my wife would never allow a gaming system through the door, front or back), learn how to fearlessly super cross like my hyper cool neighbor, be sacrificially charitable, make everyone feel like they are a priority, and of course have hobby time (as if none of the above mentioned could be considered hobbies). Deep breath everyone…and exhale the stress from that sentence.

Therefore, I have to constantly reel myself in, reevaluating what my primary values are, as my time is limited and I can’t possibly be all those things. This finding of my self value (yes, aside from my value as a child of God, I’m not dismissing this, just intentionally not speaking on it right now) dawned on me in a surprisingly meaningful way recently in a discussion with our marriage counselor. The idea appeared to be a bit of a refresher for him as well, though, I don’t know how many ideas are truly new to him. To me, the idea was like, “Yes, myself image is very much related to how I perform my valued daily habits.” There have been many days where I struggle to find the value in what I’m doing. The thoughts of the meaninglessness to it all, all but drive me expletive loco. Out of all of the things that I could do, what should I do, and then in what priority? I listed them out, (currently can’t find the list, time to do it again) prioritized them, and began working on them…everyday (that I have the list that is). This has been a remarkably rewarding activity for me. And just about when things seem to be going smoothly, something changes in my life and the list needs to be revised/updated.

Our generation’s life is one of prevalent change. More change than generations past, if you ask me. Don’t bother getting me started on the current administration jokes including the word change. Please. I tend to end up more angry and snarly than jovial and laughing. Our parents and certainly grandparents often worked the same occupation their entire lives. Technology has brought developments to about every field of work imaginable over the course of history. And recently has been no exception but an explosion of development is our experience. As a result, we are all but always requiring to fine tune this and modify that. Upgrading this and incorporating that. Our schedules and daily habits truly require change and adaptation that our parents and ancestors had little necessity for, yet that change is crucial for us. And change is just stressful most of the time for me. Expetive change, sometimes I think “I can’t wait till I’m old and can just throw in the towel on the change thing”…that’d be the change I’m thinking of.

Here many of us are today, out of school and in the work force. More competition. I happen to believe competition is a terrific thing in the work place. Personally, I believe businesses should be allowed to fail when they are not realizing a profit on their own merits. Otherwise, we hinder businesses with better business models to make their way into the market and everyone suffers. After all, if I’m not providing what consumers want, someone will bring it to them when I go out of business. I imagine, unless you’re an uber liberal, Marxist, Communist, Socialist or some other idealogue, you can agree with this. Now, in business I’m not trying to beat you to be all “Ha!, I’ve got more money than you”, but more to provide a lifestyle that is consistent with my family’s dreams/goals/ambitions. This seems to me to be a more mature motivation for achievement than what I maintained during my schooling years. Although, if I were willing to assist others in reaching their achievements in priority above my own, wouldn’t that be the altruistic “gold standard” in motivating competition? Seems consistent with Jesus’ teaching in Matthew 23:11, “The greatest among you will be your servant.” And perhaps this is why I’m lead to believe I’ve a future in network marketing. Network marketing aside after this thought, we are all in network marketing, maybe a step or so removed, but we’re all pulling for ‘em cause if they do well, sales that is, the whole company does well, including you. That’s just the facts, Jack Barack! (Intentionally not using the name Jack here, as it’s my father-in-law’s name. Besides, a good ol’ fashioned Jersey accent will make Barack rhyme just f
ine.) No more rhymes, I mean it! And no, no one wants a peanut.

I think that I used to try to get happiness by comparing myself to you. As much as I believe in competition, I don’t think that my happiness is found in beating you, but more in the process. I’ll leave you with the most succinct explanation of what I mean with a quote from Brian Tracy. He said that “happiness is a progressive realization of a worthwhile dream or goal.” And in my experience, I agree. Yes, this last paragraph was initiated and forced (Aside by MckMama: I object! I did not force anything. I merely suggested. Strongly.) by MckMama for your full circle MckDaddy reading experience. Continue reading

ACTS

ACTS, it’s an acronym that stands for Adoration, Confession, Thanks and Supplication. I have enjoyed remembering this during my personal prayer, as I find it assists me in maintaining focus in each area. The Lord’s Prayer beginning in Matthew 6:9 has each component. If you haven’t tried your personal prayer this way, give it a try and see what you think.

More specifically, I’ve been thinking a bit about what doesn’t fit in my personal faith. When I pray alone, it’s usually at night while I’m half falling asleep. This alone is bothersome to me. I know that anything less than my best shouldn’t be offered to God. I don’t think He is interested in my partially conscious conversation. If I did that once with a person, I don’t think they would be too excited to speak with me again, you know, after falling asleep on them and all. Each night I know I’m going to do it. Usually it takes so little time for me to fall asleep, you can ask my wife. The reason for this may be a combination of several things including liking sleep, mentally preparing for sleep during bed time rituals, and most troubling, a lack of displaying reverence for our God. Anyway, I don’t find much comfort in these excuses when I’m considering this. You know what an excuse is, right? An excuse is the skin of reason stuffed with a lie.

To me reverence means respect in action. I was talking to a fella, who’s faith I admire, about this awhile back. He told me he gets on his knees when he’s at his bed. I’ve been fond of the idea of this but I have neglected, in large part, its practice.

I regularly pray with our kids before meals and during bedtime. Some how I don’t spend time with my wife in prayer though. For me I think not praying with her is a result of wanting to avoid the part of prayer which is incriminating, confession. My comfort level with disclosing my faults to God in her presence is less than a pleasant one. I don’t enjoy her knowing of my faults and certainly don’t like her hearing me say them. Especially the ones I do over and over again. It’s humiliating. Looking back, I see the times when we did pray together were after we had read a book together. We’d do this as a part of our bed time ritual. Mental note and written reminder, it’s time to start a new book with her.

I feel as if I’m making progress in detaching what I perceive the world thinks of me and my actions. For so much of my life I wanted approval from everyone else. So much so, that my thoughts, words and actions were heavily influenced, if not directly connected, in my attempting to acquire it. Literally, I was forming my reality around what I believed other people were thinking; an unreal reality. Unreal in that I was being nice to people because that’s what I saw people doing, monkey see monkey do, not in alturism. Being nice, practicing manners, and exercising other virtues wears thin quickly for the virtue’s sake itself. Quickly, I began providing niceties for others as they would often lead to their approval of me. This has developed into a tremendous inability to say “no” to people when they ask me for things. And I’m just realizing this lately. I think it’s an immature and skewed source of self worth. Don’t misunderstand me in that I believe it’s fine for me to enjoy and receive a sense of pleasure from the approval of others, it’s just that to the degree I’ve taken it, well, it’s not healthy.

What the last paragraph has to do with the title of this post, uh, I’m not certain…continuing on. Mostly, I’ve been thinking on this inconsistency, what I consider to be a flaw in myself and the community of Christians as a whole, in that I’m alright with doing three of the four parts of ACTS. It’s socially acceptable to adore and praise God (as long as you, you know, you don’t get weird about it, and go and make me feel uncomfortable or something). No one thinks twice about you when you thank God. It’s noble to ask God for things (especially if you’re asking God to help other people with their problems). It’s no thing at all to hear Christians speak of their adoration, thanks and requests of God. Confession, not so much. Why? Is confession less important than the other aspects of prayer? Too private? Does God consider it to be an inferior component and so many of us are being obedient by paying more attention to the other three? Is there less utility, wisdom or other beneficial attribute to confession, and as a result we are doing ourselves a favor by favoring the others with our time, thoughts and words? I sincerely ask myself these questions. And when I do, I tend to wind up at the same destination when I mull this over.

Maybe public confession is avoided because it could allow others to think less of us. Confession is thought of as ugly. It’s self damaging when done publicly. There is no benefit to it. It tears down, rather than building up. At least I often find myself thinking of confession this way, and consequently I think others may as well. Oh, and then there is the “Well, we can talk about these sins, but these here, nay, nay, these are reserved for discussion elsewhere”? Right. Jolly well right then, or so at least I’ve agreed until fairly recently.

As far as I understand, every mention of confession in the Bible includes the mouth. This means saying the words of the faults out loud. James is more specific, telling us to confess our sins to one another. I don’t get the feeling that confession is to be something that is only to be done in private. Or that confession is reserved for a counselor or priest or anyone else. That it should be concealed, hidden or kept from others. Psalms and Proverbs contain verses that declare the opposite. Somehow the status quo is that we don’t openly confess our faults, flaws, sins, shortcomings…whatever term you’re more comfortable using. And this nuance, in my opinion, results in the convenience of continued sin and the cessation of what otherwise would be more spiritual and personal growth. I despise that about our Christian culture. The only person I can control is me, and a quick look at my criminal record will show that I’ve got less than a clean slate even at that. Regardless, when enough people act in opposition to the norm, the scales of what is considered socially acceptable make a marvelous cha-chink sound. And the proper way of viewing confession is perceived as it ought to be. A natural, normal, healthy and important part of prayer and discussion. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m still going to confess mostly in private and will likely continue to feel reluctant in my public confessions.

So, I figure I’ve still got some processing to do with this. Well, on further thought, nah, I’m pretty sure I’ve arrived in this arena. Oh, come on now, that was funny, and if you can’t admit that…you might just be angry. Oh boy, I’m going to stop now. Just kidding. No, really I’m done now. Is anyone gonna take me seriously after this? Haters? Can I hear a what, what? MckDaddy, out. What? My wife told me that she thought my posts were ending too abruptly, so this is what the opposite of abruptly looks like, I think. Or maybe it’s what it reads like. Yea, this is what it reads like. McKDaddy, out, take two: lsdfjlpajfojojhnv nophweoijgoansdopfjpoghv oioifjwponjeopmnpowejhf fjqwopeifopwijefopkjoho. Continue reading

love

Lately, our three older kids have been repeating back to us what my wife and I often tell them, “I love you.” Especially Big Mac and Nuggey. They nearly always reply back the words. Big Mac’s is more of a declaration: “I love you too, Dad!” McKNugget’s is more of a reciprocal, softer almost hushed tone: “I love you too, Dad,” usually accompanied by a smile, eye lock and a hug (tight hug, right around my neck). Small Fry says it, especially until recently, less frequently than the bigger boys. Although when she has said the words, I’ve nearly felt chips fly off my heart from her word chisel. From the outside, seemingly so gently tapping, yet from within me pneumatically: “I love you, Daddy,” while pulling at the strings of my hoodie. No eye glance, I don’t need it and she knows it somehow. There is something maybe, about not having a sister growing up, that now having a daughter, all her wonder, beauty, mystery and even rebellion (ok not always rebellion, but at times anyway) I view through the lens of awe and delight. She has helped me understand my relationship with my wife more clearly. My wife is so adult, self sufficient, an admirable decision maker and independent. Though, now having shared so many experiences with Small Fry, I can see the little girl in my wife too and that is endearing as about anything. I don’t know that I ever took notice. Was I ever capable of perceiving her little girlness until Small Fry afforded me the chance to see it? I don’t know, but I really enjoy it.

I remember my dad praying with me when I was younger, mostly when I was around the ages five to about eight. The last time I remember us praying together, we lived in Missouri. I was in fourth grade. Yea, we prayed before meals most always, at church of course and even occasionally as a family. But I don’t recall just the two of us praying together alone after that. This is memorable to me because somehow God was supposed to be the most important thing to our family. I mean, that’s what we heard at church. That’s what the Bible says. We talked about Him being the most important thing in our family. Somehow we didn’t really talk to Him individually, at least I rarely did. The habit hadn’t been fully developed in me yet, well, I don’t think so anyway because I don’t recall being rebellious about it like “I’m not praying on my own.” I’m not sure exactly why I bring this up. I’m thinking it’s because maybe praying with my kids and saying “I love you” both share some likeness. To finish this thought, I am confident my dad loved me very much. I’m not sure the reason we didn’t end up praying more together. It seemed to me he lived a very self disciplined life out of an expression of love for what his Creator had done for him. I just want my kids to see me communicating with our Father, together with them, as an expression of my love for Him. For them to hear and see me communicating adoration, thanks, requests and perhaps most importantly confession of my faults with them. That is important to me. Faults like lack of patience, yelling, being too harsh in discipline or disciplining out of anger instead of out of what is best for them…that kind of confession…for now anyway. My wife says the things that are truly important to a person get acted on. Which is convicting, because some of the things I say and think are important to me don’t get acted upon much.

Just recently I’ve begun asking the kids why they love me after they say they do. It’s really something to listen to what they say. Big Mac most usually says, “‘Cause you do all sorts of stuff for me, Dad.” Nuggey and Small Fry seem to have a unique answer each time. This time it’s a bit different, but here it is.

Really, I think I have “loved” in the past because, like my oldest son says, someone “did all sorts of stuff for me.” And I think where I have demonstrated love to someone when they haven’t done something for me is an expression of gratefulness for what our Creator has done for me. Although I’m not fully convinced that I’m capable of loving purely that way. I reason to myself there will be some reward, glory, appreciation or other lofty thing gained by my loving; some selfish tinge makes its way in. I hope though that by talking about why we love people, we will be afforded the chance in helping each other understand the uniqueness of love and, ultimately, the Source. Continue reading

foolish and weak

What comes to mind when you think of 1 Corinthians 1:27 “But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.”? What experiences have you had that fit with this verse? Or what are the stories that you think of when considering this concept? Maybe reread the verse, close your eyes before reading on so as to not distract yourself, and give just ten or fifteen seconds thinking of what in your life is relatable to what God is saying here.

For me, this has been an awkward and strange concept, to attach firm examples to. I mean, I’ve thought, “Yea, this is cool. God using the foolish and the weak to shame the wise and strong,” but I couldn’t quickly connect an experience with it. I see the strong among me as a result of their discipline in consistent straining and healing of their physical bodies. I see the wealthy as good stewards of the resources they have. And from lesser, through steady increments of applied skill, turned lesser into greater. Wisdom is a tricky one. As there are different types of smarts. But maybe we can agree there is the eternally profitable smart and the less than forever perspective intelligence. Heavenly wisdom and earthly wisdom. Each has a different means to their respective end, and that is a kernel that’s been elusive to me for some time. But today somehow this most recent puzzle piece has made life’s picture a bit clearer.

This morning and afternoon I walked in the Mathare Valley Slum in Nairobi, Kenya. If you know little of the details of this place, you can quite easily get your mind bent on the dizzying statistics. Much has been written on the conditions in Mathare. For brevity sake and because you can quickly discover the conditions on many other sites, I’ll mention just several things I saw earlier today. I walked over, around, and/or directly in human feces, literally slipping on it, as it mixed with the light drizzle from the morning. I sat in a mud house that was occupied by three families, one family having eight members, and the house had five rooms each about 8′x6′ (about the size of a modest bathroom). Any of you construction folks out there or anyone else that has a vague understanding of s.f. dimensions…that’s a total of about 240 square feet…for well more than 10 people…people. If you’ve ever experienced even the slightest feelings of claustrophobia, the cramped quarters would ignite a raging blaze of anxiety within you. Typically, warm arid climes can be a habitat for poisonous spiders, which is also a phobia of mine. When I inquired about the concern of this, I was mocked. Finding something to eat is of immeasurably greater concern than poisonous spiders. What would on my side of the Atlantic be considered a legitimate hazard is utterly dismissed as nonsense here. Again, I could go on with examples of what I saw but the financial poverty was as horrifically bad as perhaps even your imagination and then a few notches below that would be a reasonable imagery of what the reality is here, relentlessly.

What is explicitly obvious is the financial poverty. What is less noticeable but of equivalent if not greater deleteriousness are the other forms of poverty. Nutritional/physical, educational/cognitive, social/emotional, and spiritual poverty prompts the same gastral aches and has the same effect on tear ducts as financial poverty. I was struck with the unsettling enlightenment that a single one of these poverty conditions would be strenuous beyond many’s ability to ever overcome. There is little doubt that nearly each of Mathares’ 800,000 residents are currently burdened with every poverty I just listed above…this must be nothing but genuinely incapacitating. I have a very difficult time believing that those who call Mathare home have much of an exit strategy. Precious hope is ground down to the nubs of passivity, addiction, and cynicism quickly on the harshest of life’s grinding stones which is the daily life and reality in Mathare Valley. If any ones end consists of anything other than multiplying themselves or dying with in the rusted corrogated walls of this slum city then they fall into the catagory mathmaticians refer to as statistical outliers. A self perpetuating prison of poverty; no exaggeration required.

Now there are a number of programs Compassion facilitates here in Kenya. All of them have great acronyms (can any acronym really be better than another?). Like CSP Child Survival Program, LDP Leadership Development Program, and another one I can’t remember and can’t even let you know right now as the Internet is down and I can’t check Compassion’s site so…I’ll create this link to Compassion instead.

The greater point here is I got the tremendous pleasure of seeing first hand the fruit, if you will, of Compassion. The result. The end game. The real deal. I met two of the students enrolled in the LDP Leadership Development Program. I flat out wouldn’t have believed that either of these two individuals had been born and raised in environments such as Mathare. They are the examples of what faith, hope, love, and the invaluable investments of human touch can produce even from out of what the world sees as the armpit of the planet. Have you ever heard anyone speak intelligently or eloquently about the difference between rehabilitation and transformation? If you have, then this next sentence will pack the punch it’s intended to. These two individuals embodied everything that is text book (biblical) transformation. My writing will fail to thoroughly display how meaningful to me meeting these two final products of the Compassion programs were. What I can let you know is they sealed the deal for me. Sales people out there, hear me now? Maureen and Raphael. These two individuals are precious jewels in an overwhelming vastness of waste. Not that the other people of Mathare are a waste, because they are not. The level of poverty in each aspect of their lives is a waste though. They are capable people. They are valuable, skillful, treasure laiden people that most likely will never be cut and polished to allow their brilliance to shine. Not many of us acknowledge that brilliance within them. I am guilty of this. The shine and value our Creator declares each of us contains, the shell of which, is far too often born, lived, and dies without a soul catching a glimmer of the beauty within.

The world doesn’t see how the Maureen and Raphael’s could ever shame the wise. The worldly intellectuals can’t conceive this. The Maureen and Raphael’s are aspiring government positions here in Kenya. They are becoming leaders in all levels of their communities. The existing worldly teachers, business men and women, and social workers are being usurped by these “foolish and weak” from the Mathare Valley. And then it hit me that there is a self perpetuating freedom fire that is beginning to catch and over the months and years it will blaze into a great and glorious thing. Maureen and Raphael are both sponsoring children of their own. How beautiful is that? Is that a testimony of testimonies, or what? I am gidie that our God “…chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.” And at last this verse makes sense to me. I have seen two living examples as a display of God working here, today, in Kenya. Continue reading

« Previous Page — Next Page »