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Categories Book Reviews

Book Review: “The Real America” by Glenn Beck

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Glen Beck’s The Real America attempts to give voice to “The Real America”–the one that cares about politics, but about more than politics. Beck discusses religion, celebrities, personal responsibility. For the most part, his views are classically conservative. His idea was good–talk about what America really cares about, not just the political stuff. However good this idea may be for a radio talk show, it makes a horrible book. This book was disorganized and not well thought out. There are too many good political and philosophical books out there to waste time with this one.

Rating: 1 star
Category:Political/Cultural Commentary
Synopsis: An attempt to discuss the topics “Real Americans” care about–not just politics. Generally disorganized and blowsy.
Recommendation: Not worth wasting your time. Find a good book by your favorite conservative columnist or check out a more focused book like A Return to Modesty by Wendy Shalit.

Categories Family & Friends, Reflections, Thankfulness

Luckiest girl on earth

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If I said I was the luckiest girl on earth, I wouldn’t be the first to say so. But that doesn’t change my general sense that I am indeed the luckiest girl on earth. And why might I be so lucky? What happy occasion heralds this joyous exclamation?

I began to realize it last night, when I told my family that it was official: Love Memorial Hall and AGN will be doing a bike-a-thon to raise money for Cedars Youth Services. We will be riding our bikes to the Missouri game on October 22. I mentioned that I should probably bring my bike back to the hall and start doing some serious riding before then. My mom told me that she’d gone out and gotten me a new inner tube for my bike as soon as she’d heard that I was possibly going to participate. My old tube was leaking around the stem and couldn’t be patched. My little brother Timothy put it on for me. But not only did he replace my inner tube, Timothy also prevented me from taking the bike back to the hall until he had adjusted the brakes so that they wouldn’t rub.

I’m the luckiest girl in the world because I have a family like no other. My sister offered to take me back to the hall in her new car, but took a bit of a circuitous route. First she dropped by Walmart to get me all of my little necessities–tissues, printer paper, deoderant. And not only that, she ran me by Wendy’s and got me a sandwich and a Frosty. What have I done to deserve my sister’s lavish gifts? Nothing. She works her butt off between going to school and her job as a Diet Tech, and I enjoy the fruits of her labours.

I’m the luckiest girl because for a seventh grade research paper, my dad brought me to UNL’s Love library. It was a research paper-why not go to a research library? He believed I could understand what I read and I was determined to prove him right. We wandered the stacks at midnight, searching for just the right book. We walked the stairs with crisp turns, pretending we were nerds without needing to pretend. In sixth grade, he got a book on HTML and wrote up an announcement to post on our family bulletin board. “Wanted: Web Designer. Must have at least a fifth grade education. Will train. Send resumes to…” I sent my resume in and got the job. We skipped, hand in hand, in the SAMS club parking lot on our way to get milk for the family.

I’m the luckiest girl because my mom spent five hours adjusting the bodice for a pattern I just couldn’t get to fit. It was supposed to be a simple pattern, the design of the dress would be a cinch to sew. I hadn’t counted on the adjustments–Mom patiently walked me through them. When I was in second grade, she read us The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I loved it and always will. When my fish died and she found it before I did, she flushed it so I wouldn’t have to. And when my bike had a leaky inner tube, that I didn’t even know about, she bought me a new inner tube.

I’m the luckiest girl because my sister Anna, though I once thought she was my worst enemy, is my best friend. Out of the blue, she announced to me that she was paying my car’s registration–“After all, I think you might have paid mine last year.” She’s at home because she can’t afford the hall, so she buys me everything I need to be comfortable here. She came and cooked for me on my busy day–despite the fact that everyday is her busy day. She never lets me dwell on crushes. She protects me from my own mind. To paraphrase Colonel Fitzwilliam, she takes prodigiously good care of me.

I’m the luckiest girl because I caught my brother Joshua as we were crossing Cornhusker Highway on our bikes today–going the opposite direction. I waved and shouted, and he was a bit embarrassed. But he’s my brother and it’s okay. When he’s in the middle of a deep history conversation and I break in with a piddling contextual question, he patiently answers. He lets me read his stories, even though I’ve always been a hard critic. And he took on my dish job when I went away to college.

I’m the luckiest girl because I’m always trying to one up my brother Daniel at busyness. I go to school and do a thousand piddly things. He goes to high school and works almost thirty hours a week. But that doesn’t mean he’s too busy to drive me around while the gas prices continue to rise. He’s always trying to torque me off about women’s lib, but I know that he respects me as a woman and as his sister. He started to work out and dropped fifty pounds after he scared himself at 200 lbs. And he had the grace to let me come to the gym and spot for him–even though I’d never done it before. He let me buy him some jeans for Christmas last year–even when I insisted on them being European style. And he asks me for clothing advice. He actually thinks my opinion matters.

I’m the luckiest girl just because my brother John is alive and is my brother. Because he loves missions and is on our church’s mission team with me. Because he loves children and begged me to let him help out in the nursery–we work together so that he’s not a boy alone with them. He’s got more energy than anyone I know, and he never lets anything get him down. He loves people and he wants to do everything within his power to help them. He’s the only one of my siblings who doesn’t correct me when I sit down at the piano. And he actually begs me to cut his hair–even though I cut his ear the one time I tried.

I’m the luckiest girl in the world because I can talk to my brother Timothy about books. We started with Lemony Snicket, back when he hated to read. Now he’s begging me to read Eragon, because he thinks it’s the best thing in the world. We read Phantom of the Opera out loud together in three days. We discussed our melancholy over loving and hating Eric at the same time. Tim’s growing up and his voice is deepening, but he isn’t outgrowing his sister. He comes up to me at youth group and gives me a hug, tells me about his day. He’s gotten into fixing bikes recently, and wasn’t content until he’d gotten my seat to just the right height.

I’m the luckiest girl in the world because my little sister Grace spent the night with me on Saturday. She helped me prepare the Sunday school lesson, and tried to pick out what I wore. She asked my advice on the right kind of eyeshadow to get as her first makeup. She asked me if I thought Meg Cabot’s All-American Girl was appropriate for her. (It isn’t.) She asked me “What does eighties music sound like?” Grace sewed me a patchwork pillow that perfectly matches my decor, being careful that all the little people on the toile fabric pointed in the same direction. And she only glares at me but does no more when I call her Trixie for the thousandth time.

And that’s only my immediate family. I could go on for pages and pages about the rest as well. How my grandpa checked my antifreeze and gave me an extra jug before I came back down from their farm last spring break. How my grandma and my aunts and I always get into huge theological discussions every time we’re together. How my Aunt Martha-ma-ba took me for a drive and asked me why I was thinking about going into teaching. How my Aunt Lisa, new to the family, had my sister and me over for a week when we were eight or nine. How my Uncle Jim solemnly informed us not to drink the pickle juice out of the pickle jar until the pickles were all gone. How my Uncle Leo places coffee filters on the girls’ heads and suggests that we become Mennonite. How my Aunt Alice organized a family dance after we discovered that we enjoyed dancing together at my cousin’s wedding. Yes, I could go on forever, because I’m the luckiest girl in the world.

Categories Reflections, Technology

Internet Stalker

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I have a confession to make. I’m an internet stalker. Seriously. I have a bad habit of going on blog stalking kicks. Every so often, I get in the mood to hear about people’s lives so I check their blogs continuously-multiple times a day. The more frequently a person updates their blog, the more likely I am to stalk it. I lurk behind the scenes, checking the blog compulsively several times a day, never revealing my name or giving comments.

If people knew what I did, they might wonder why I stalk them of all people. Well, anyone unfortunate enough to have added me as a friend on Facebook is susceptible. And if that person has linked another person I know on their blog–I stalk them too. And if you happen to go to my church and have a blog–I’ve added you to my list too.

Because a list is what I have. On the link toolbar of my web browser, under F, then under Friends, is a list of links to weblogs. About once a month I run through them all–those that are updated frequently, I add to my mental list of sites to check frequently. Of those, the ones that disappoint me the least when I’m running through them, are the most likely to be stalked.

The video from CAPS we watched in Health Aide class mentioned that most people with psychological disorders think that they’re alone–that no one else experiences the same problem they do. Well, perhaps I have the reverse. I want to believe that I’m not too unusual–which is why I also compulsively check my website’s webstats. I have a log of every computer that has accessed my website–organized by IP address. I ping each computer so that I can discover the name of the computer–my website was visited x times this month by UNL computer lab computers. Look, I gave that person my web address three months ago and this is their first visit–at least I’m pretty sure that I know who that person is. Be careful what you name your computer for the sake of the network. It may give me clues as to who you are. Better to keep with a generic computer name if you want to avoid my detection.

But, alas, for all my attempts to discover that everyone is indeed a blog stalker like I am, I discover that they are not. Or if they are, they do not stalk my site. I am and am likely to remain the most avid visitor of my own website–even though no one else visits it, I keep the webstats page as the second most visited page after my home page.

It’s a tumor–benign or malignant I do not know. But it grows, preying upon my time. Sometimes it divides quickly, sometimes slowly, but it keeps growing. In a life that I have made too busy for real interaction, hearing of someone’s life second hand is the best I can do. I need to do something–and quickly. Because my busyness is a disease, taking over my life.

Categories Faith, Rants

Predestination

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My Bible study on Thursday digressed a bit to discuss the concept of free will vs. predestination. One of the girls mentioned a shirt a friend had seen. On the front, it read: “Calvinism: This shirt chose me.” The back read: “Armenianism: I chose this shirt.” I laughed when I heard it, but as I’ve reflected on the thought since that point, I realize how very Armenian that shirt is–and how much I abhor it for that reason.

The essential problem with the shirt is that in its analogy God:me::shirt:me. This is an inherently wrong analogy. For if I were to compare my power to God’s, I would say that it is almost equal to the shirt’s power over me. So in fact, the analogy would more accurately be as follows: God:me::me:shirt. I am as God to the shirt. It is infinitely less wise than I, it is infinitely less capable of choice than I. In the same way, we are infinitely less wise and powerful than God is.

And therein lies my argument with Armenianism in its many forms. Armenianism places man in the place of God. I control my destiny. I choose where I will go. In essence, salvation becomes less about God’s work of saving, but my act of choosing. It cheapens the grace of God, makes light of His justice, and spits on the cross.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am by no means a classic Calvinist. If you look at the spectra of thought concerning predestination, you will see that five point Calvinism occupies a very narrow band at the far right of the spectra. The entire rest of the spectra falls under the category “Armenian.” I lie a hair’s breadth from the Calvinist viewpoint.

When I look at the Scriptures, I cannot countenance the thought that predestination is really just a fancy word for “knowing beforehand what we would choose.” If that were so, why would Romans 8:29 make a point to say “For those He foreknew, He also predestined”? If the two were the same, Paul would have no reason to say also. The Bible is clear on the choice of God in matters of salvation. The Scripture talks of us being chosen, predestined, set apart for good works that God prepared in advance for us to do. All of these speak of the sovereignty of God in choosing us.

On the other hand, I cannot easily dismiss the call of God to personal decision in Scripture. From Joshua “Choose this day whom you will serve” to Mark 16:16, “whoever believes…will be saved.” John 20:31 states that “these things were written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ…and that believing you may have life in His name.” I Corinthians 1:22 says that God was pleased to save those who believe. When the jailer asked Paul and Silas what he must do to be saved, they told him, “Believe in the Lord Jesus and you will be saved.” (Acts 16:30) Romans 10:19 states that by believing in your heart and confessing with your mouth that Jesus is Lord, you will be saved. Personal decision is important.

I like to think of it like this: You are quickly dying of a disease. There is only one cure for this disease–a total heart transplant. The problem is that this operation is prohibitively expensive. It requires that someone else offer a still living heart (thus dying). It requires a physician skilled enough to perform the delicate surgery. It requires a good deal of money to prepare the operation room for both patients, to take care of the burial of the heart donor, to get everything in place. There is absolutely no way that you could pay for this surgery, and there’s no one around whose heart would match–they all have the same disease you do. And even if there was someone who had a heart that was free of this disease–they would have to die in order to give you this transplant. No one would do such a thing. And the surgeon? There is only one surgeon in the world capable of undertaking this surgery–you’d think your chances of getting in are nil.

Now imagine that one day, as you were dying of this dread disease, a man called you on the phone. He said, “I know that you have this horrible disease and that you are dying of it. There’s no way for you to recover. Well, it just so happens that my heart is a perfect fit for you, and my Father is the only surgeon capable of doing this type of heart transplant. I’ve fallen in love with you, and I want to give you my heart. My father, seeing how much I love you, is willing to do the surgery for free. He has a 100% success rate. All you have to do is accept my heart and we’ll fly right out and get the surgery taken care of.”

The question is: who saved who? It would be foolish to say that you were saved because you said yes to the man and his surgeon father. No, you were saved because this man offered you his heart, and because his father performed the surgery. There was no way that anything you could have done could have even come close to saving you. You were saved because that man looked out over the sea of humanity that was dying of this disease, saw you, and loved you enough to offer you his heart. You were saved because the man’s father loved his son and loved you enough to perform the surgery for free. Your only part to play was that of a desperate person clinging to his only hope.

Ephesians 2:8-10 sums up my view of predestination. “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast. For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand that we should walk in them.” God’s part: saving us in His marvelous grace by the work of Christ on the cross; giving us the faith to believe Him; creating us for good works; preparing the way for us to fulfill our purpose. Our part: to have faith in God unto salvation and to walk in the works He has prepare us to do.

Categories Everyday Life, Reflections

The Overwhelming Numbness of Completion

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Have you ever felt the overwhelming numbness of completion? That’s what I felt yesterday. Packing my bag for the afternoon and evening’s tasks and realizing I don’t have anything to study for. I can’t go into the office now because there’s nothing there for me to do yet. I can’t run errands because I don’t have any to do. Everything is completed.

And it’s the most uncomfortable sensation I’ve ever experienced. Nothing to do. Nothing to avoid doing. I’m always either running to do or running away from doing something. This, this is something new. I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t understand leisure, only avoiding work. I don’t understand relaxation–only the collapse of exhaustion.

I’m a workaholic without a job, addicted to deadlines, to hurrying, to busyness. If I have a free moment, I fill it. If I’m crunched, I add just one more thing. My heart is thrilled with the challenge of twenty-nine things to do in twenty-four hours. My schedule doesn’t affect my to-do list. Heaven forbid I do less because I’m gone more. No, I must stay busy.

And so the dull ache of Elijah, mission accomplished, now sitting alone under the terebinth tree. Addicted to busyness, I’ve forgotten that the goal was completion. Now I’m done, and when I should be celebrating-I’m begging for another buzz.

Categories Reflections

Coming home

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Returning from retreats is always melancholy for me. So much has changed in a brief amount of time–Now I must see how much of that change will last.

I meet new people, develop relationships. At the end of the week or weekend or whatever, we feel as close as any two pals can be. But now we’re back. Now the context is completely different. We all have our own sets of friends; we all have our own schedules, our own worries. All those things that, set aside, enabled us to have a relationship on a retreat, are now back at full force.

Walking around campus, I spot a familiar face surrounded by a group of unfamiliar faces. Do I smile, wave, go up and say Hi? I’m nervous. This is a new context. I’m not sure what to make of it. What f I’m an embarrassment in front of their friends? What if they’re too busy to talk with me? Now that they have their own friends, their own schedules, their own lives, maybe I’m not needed anymore.

Don’t mistake my words, there are plenty of people I’ve grown close to on retreats that I’m still friends with today. Week in the Word was a prime example–anytime I see girls from there or they see me, we rush across the room to say Hi. We ask how it’s going, sit around and chat for awhile. We’re still friends, not uncomfortable around each other. Still, it’s not the close-forged friendship of mutual experience that was formed on the retreat. Instead, we’re catching up on each others’ lives, lives we haven’t been a part of for a while.

I’ve always been somewhat of a loner, but I keep busy enough that I rarely recognize loneliness. Retreats, however, bring that out. It’s when I get back from a retreat that I long for a girlfriend that I can bare my soul to and she to me. It’s when I get back from a retreat that I long to have friends I can just call up and hang out with. It’s when I get back from a retreat that I wish I could count guys as everyday friends.

But I’m back and it’s busy again. Awkwardness keeps me from following through on what I want. Inertia kicks in and I do nothing to develop those friendships. I don’t even know how to develop friendships–and learning takes work. So returning from retreats can be melancholy for me.

Categories Faith, Reflections

On Leadership

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J. Oswald Sanders, in his book Spiritual Leadership, says “Spiritual leadership requires Spirit-filled people. Other qualities are important; to be Spirit-filled is indispensable.” Last night, I had a revelation of just that.

I was a bit depressed at the lack of interest for God that I was seeing in my girls at youth group. Few were even singing during worship, much less showing any emotion. I think a whole two brought their Bibles and only one was taking notes. Then a line from Remember the Titans popped into my head. “Attitude reflects leadership, Captain.” As soon as the thought came, I dismissed it. The sponsors were singing, even raising their hands. The sponsors had their Bibles and a couple were taking notes. We were doing fine-it didn’t have anything to do with us.

But as the service continued, I began to contemplate my life as a youth sponsor. I thought of our last meeting, where I’d urged more and more student involvement in leadership as a way of allowing the kids to gain ownership of Z-360. I thought of all the ideas I’d jotted down in my notebook–games to do, things to teach on, activities to do together. I realized I’d been applying human answers to a spiritual malady. The kids aren’t excited-let’s have more games. The kids aren’t involved-let’s give them more opportunities to get involved. The kid’s aren’t in the Word-let’s do a teaching on the importance of the Word. But none of those are the answer we need.

When one of the sponsors mentioned at our meeting that the real problem was our students’ spiritual state, I brushed it off. After all, what could we do about that? That’s an easy way out, a pat Sunday School response. It’s a fatalistic response-if the problem is that our students are spiritually dead, then what can we do?

Back to Remember the Titans–“Attitude reflects leadership, Captain.” I thought about it and realized I can’t remember the last time I sat down with the other sponsors and prayed for Z-360. I can’t remember the last time where we sat down together to testify of God’s greatness or to share in our struggles. I don’t remember the last time we opened the Word together. I don’t remember the last time we ate a meal together. I don’t remember the last time we played a game together. We’ve been leading in a fleshly, carnal way. It’s only natural that our student’s attitudes be fleshly and carnal. Attitude, after all, reflects leadership.

“Spiritual leadership requires Spirit-filled people. Other qualities are important; to be Spirit-filled is indispensable.” When the other qualities become our only focus and the Spirit is pushed to the back burner in our ministry, the only logical outcome is loss of vision, loss of momentum, loss of souls. Without the Spirit’s action in our ministries, we cannot excite, we cannot grow, we cannot do anything of eternal value. The Spirit is absolutely essential to Spiritual leadership.

Categories Family & Friends

Photos in the Paper

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So I was in the newspaper today-on the front page. Okay, more precisely, my photo was on the front page of the Daily Nebraskan. But–before you run out an secure yourself a copy, be warned. It’s not a good picture.

You see, the photo was actually of one of my kitchen-mates flipping sticky rice. I had been standing in the kitchen talking to another kitchen-mate when they entered the room for a picture. So, I’m in the background of Taem’s sticky rice shot.

Adding to the “badness” of the photo was the fact that it was shot at a crazy angle. The photographer was standing on a windowsill trying to get a good shot of the rice in motion. Not only that, I was laughing because the photographer was asking Taem to flip the rice higher and higher and higher–and the rice was breaking up and flying all over the room. So the picture definitely shows some big teeth and squinty eyes-Lovely!

Note to the hall for next time we beg for an article–Figure out when the photographer’s coming so we don’t have to stage a sticky rice flipping with yesterday’s leftovers.

Categories Everyday Life, Faith, Reflections

A Bit of a Nag

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I have my doubts about the oft heard statement that “the Holy Spirit is a gentleman.” Instead, I rather think He’s a nag. LESTER retreat was marvelous–but a little bit redundant. It seems that God is into driving things home.

On March 6, I wrote on this website that God had been speaking to me about not being consumed with serving others. Instead, I should be focused on sitting at Christ’s feet. This Saturday, Mike Jordahl shared from Isaiah 52:13, which begins, “My servant…” Mike asked the question, Whose servant? God’s servant, of course. While being a servant of God will inevitably lead to serving men, the role of the Christian is not to please men. It is to serve God and walk in relationship with Him.

On August 27, I wrote of my desire for greatness and of what I want to accomplish with my story. Sunday morning Darin Durand spoke about greatness and the difference between earthly and spiritual greatness. In small groups, we discussed how difficult it is to die to selfish desires in the pursuit of greatness–the same thing I have struggled with over the past few months.

Then on Sunday night, Lauren Libby gave a teaching on leadership. One of his points stuck out to me particularly because it has been on my heart for a while now. He said, “The leader transforms strategy into action by empowering others.” This only confirms what God has been speaking to me about empowering others to do much of the work that I am currently doing within the church–allowing them to serve in an increased way and giving me more time to focus on what God is calling me to directly.

While the teaching was a highlight of the trip, it was by no means the only one. I enjoyed taking a dip in the “Punch bowls” in my pajamas. The water was colder than cold, but I didn’t feel cold until I’d been out of the water for fifteen minutes–then I was freezing. The hike up and back was beautiful. All around I was impressed by the greatness and majesty of God.

Another big highlight of the trip was developing relationships. In a way, I felt like I was talking with someone almost constantly ;-) From the gals in my room to the folks I had dinner with to those that I ended up spending time with during odd hours of the day, I was constantly surrounded by opportunities to fellowship and to grow in relationship. Of course, when talking about relationship building, you can’t discount the ride up and back. I can see that despite my rocky start, the maxim proves true: “God doesn’t make typos when He writes the story of our lives–even when we, like children, are sitting on His lap pounding on the keyboard.” Even though I didn’t pay attention to exactly which parking garage I was supposed to be at and wandered around–God worked all things together for good. It was this “mistake” that allowed me to get to know several people that quite possibly I would not otherwise have gotten to know. God is faithful to arrange all things according to His purposes.