Starbuck

Captain Ahab commanded the Pequod to its doom, his monomania driving him to sacrifice everything, his money, his friendships, his ship, his crew. The madness of his powerful ego made his revenge against Moby Dick, a symbol of the power of all nature, more important than anything else in all the world.


His first mate on the other hand cared nothing of the killing of any particular whale. Starbuck was a whaler, willing to kill the white whale if it came within reach, but only as a part of his livelihood. He was in the business of getting whale oil, the stuff for lubricating machinery, lighting lamps, and anointing kings.

Ahab was mad, insane. His insanity more clearly revealed when reflected in the calm eyes of the man charged with carrying out his orders.

The literary term for characters which reflect qualities in another is a “foil,” as in a shiny metal used in the Renaissance to illuminate jewels.

Ahab himself was unable to see his madness though Starbuck tried to tell him, show him.

I think most people look at those around them to help them judge themselves, and the inability to see the norm in those we are near is a dangerous weakness, a step towards a hubris that leads to self destruction.

In short, being near others helps us remain humble, remain true to ourselves, to recognize where we differ and helps us to raise our standards for our own behavior.

That is but one of the benefits of friends.

The other day I wrote of Adam’s loneliness, though he was in the company of God. It is a mistake for us to claim that we find all we need in God, for even God Himself (Themself?) saw that Adam needed a mate, someone like him, in order to be happy.

I was at Starbucks today. I met with a friend. He cares for me, and I for him. He said he’d buy me a cup of coffee, and I told him I would repay him by mentioning him in my blog.


So, my friend, thank you for the coffee. I appreciate it. You are a hero.

Aside from the free dose of caffein, I got something more important from him.

I got to look in his eyes, talk about things in my life, things of importance and things of no import at all. And in the reflection of his eyes I could read myself. I could see the insanity I was feeling as I choked up in commenting about the loving elderly couple I had seen chatting sweetly with each other a few minutes before. I didn’t have to say how that affected me. He knew what it meant to me.

He looked at what I had been writing in my Moleskine and we chatted about the strange idea there.

(Hang on, sideways shift in topic here.)

Here is what I had jotted down:

A Divine Idea

Premise; Act of observation affects the object of observation (a quantum mechanics detail of modern physics). ?: What role does thought play in the universe? ?: Might powerful ideas be spread aside from communication? Independent of speech? They might present themselves to minds. Ex.: God is love. Love permeates the universe in the way that God sustains the existence of the universe, the atoms themselves. Might the concept of love be independent of minds, of thought? If a mind is constrained by the brain (which I believe it is, independent of the physical organ itself), might an idea be constrained by a mind? Could love, as an idea be a “living” thing?

He looked it over, smiled, asked if he could write a quote onto the page. (I’d share it with you, but it would reveal who my friend is, and I’m unsure if he would appreciate that much attention in my blog. No sense in giving him too much of the shadow of notoriety!)

What does all this mean?

Nothing in itself.

In sharing my notes with him I could better judge if what I was thinking made sense, or if I’m nuts. (Of course, that is supposing he isn’t nuts!)

What is more important is the time itself we spent together.

It didn’t matter what we spoke of. What mattered was we were together.

I think God intended for us to be with each other, to share our lives. It occurs to me that people must have people around them or they get strange.

Just as Ahab encapsulated himself in his obsession, in excluding all rational thought or input from others, those who eschew others become... odd.

Think of those we know who live apart from people. The hermits, the loners, the self-absorbed.

I once spent a couple of months alone in a cave, reading. When I rejoined society I had difficulty fitting in.

Is there an example of this in the Bible? Well, Jesus surrounded Himself with people, with friends, with disciples. The company of others is good, healthy I (though gettijng away to prayer is also immportn]ant.) Is there a loner in the stories there? Sure. John the Baptist, the wild man of the desert. Though John played a very important role in the gospels, it seems evident he was a little... odd. You know, eating bugs, wearing camel hair clothing and ranting and railing against the establishment.

One of the things I love about where I work are my coworkers. They are family to me.

I haven’t shared much with them of what has been happening in my life, yet it is clear they know something is up, that the are looking out for me, cutting me a little slack.

One of the things I love about where I worship are the members of my church family. Though I haven’t shared much with them of what has been happening in my life, yet the know something is up, and they tell me they are praying for me, the send me notes, they offer to bring food over.

One of the things I love about this blog are the readers who visit. They have prayed for me, sent me encouraging notes, told me I am not alone. And these are people I have never laid eyes upon.

Why do we need people so?

Because we are made in God’s image. Not only have we souls, eternal spirits, but we are built for community, just as God Themself is three individuals in a single being.

From the obvious importance we place on having a partner, to the examples of those who reject true companionship for omphaloskepsis.

It is clear that being with others is healthy, needful, and the way God made us.

But Seriously, Folks...

I'm a little odd.

I can't seem to remember things my wife considers important, or at least worth remember (like what someone gave us for Christmas seven years ago, or what someone else was wearing at a particular social gathering), but I do seem to hang on to odd bits and pieces of things I have read in Scientific American, or National Geographic, or a conversation I had with a brain researcher while hiking in the Olympic National Forest.

I also recall my dreams as clearly as my waking life, and some of those date back to when I was only three or four!

I take these little bits of information and I make improbable leaps of logic. I toss ideas in the air and see if I can make them loop around in interesting patterns. Meme Juggling.

For example, there is a Sunday School class I am sort of helping out in (I’ll be the “sub” for a week or so, but my current role is being “the weird guy in the corner with the odd ideas”).

We were looking at chapter six of The Shack and the theological question of whether of not God abandoned Christ at the cross (having given up His part of the Godhead in order to bear the sins of mankind). The theology ran a little heavy, with scriptures and learned commentaries being consulted. That is until I threw in one of my too frequent odd ideas, which went something like this:

“Well, I might be wrong, in fact I probably am, but these thoughts occur to me...

“I’ve read that autistic children often swing their arms and legs about not because they lack control, but because in moving their bodies they are better able to distinguish who they are, where their body ends and the rest of the world begins. For most of us, we have a very clear idea of who we are, focussing on this physical body, and not really consider anything beyond it as being a part of “us.” We know exactly where our skin ends and clothing begins, and what is of us and what is of the room or the furniture.

“I’ve also read about a scientist who studies the mind and the brain, and he argues that the brain, the physical organ within the skull, is not the producer of the mind, but actually limits what the mind can express. His evidence is intriguing. In looking at folks with brain injuries, he notes how they are limited in the mind’s thought processes. If the injury is repaired, there appears to have continued the larger abilities though the brain was unable to express them. It seems that there is something beyond the organic brain which screens the mind and limits its capacity, its potential.

“Additionally, I have thought it interesting that all matter at the quantum level is an expression of six types of sub atomic particles called quarks, which may be “strings vibrating in 12 dimensions” and in those vibrations “sing” an expression of particles. It is interesting that these particle are “sung” into existence in quantities of thirds, as if there is a trinity behind the physical reality of the universe.

“Now, if that trinity which sings the universe into being is the same trinity we call “God”, then even though God is actively creating the universe, we still have free will, to be self-centered, which is the core of sin. God is not apart from us, though we sin.

“Now, consider, perhaps in becoming a man, in Jesus being born of a woman and living as a human being, He was sort of extruding Himself into the reality of our world, filtering Himself into this expression of himself in a way similar to how the brain might be limiting the mind. He was still, most of him, doing His part in the trinity in maintaining the existence of the universe, yet the part that was on Earth, was not only fully divine, but also completely expressed as a mortal being.

“And if sin is about being self-centered, in turning away from God and focussing on ourselves, then in opening Himself up to our sins, in grasping and turning to hold, to behold, to take in the self-centeredness of the world, His limited expression in being mortal was turned away from His Father. He turned away, and in doing so took His eyes, his human, physical, ordinary mortal eyes, away from the trinity, and He experienced the abandonment we all feel when we turn away from God.

The class sat stunned for a moment. Then a buddy I work with said: “This is the kind of stuff I have to put up with every morning!” and everyone laughed.

I have tackled all sorts of weird ideas this way, blending science and art and philosophy and theology and any other ology I can manage to fit in.

And here is the most important thing about this little habit of mine:

I'm wrong.

I am almost certainly wrong about everything I think about or know.

I perceive the universe with eyes that see only so far, ears that hear only so much (and less than they used to with my tinnitus), and most importantly, a mind that is constrained by a brain that works in a dubious fashion.

Don't take me too seriously.

: )

Later!

Stopping to Smell the Roses

I see a lot of folks continue to drop by this little blog of mine, even though I have not been respectful enough of their visits to post more often.

I am grateful.

As some of you may know, some time ago I found that I needed to spend some time writing about topics that are too personal for this space.

I believe there will be a time, perhaps soon, that I will have the time and energy to devote proper attention to the topics I have chewed on here.

So, out of a slight case of guilt, I thought I would drop a note here about a few thoughts that seem fine to write about.

The central issue of faith is the existence of God.

Some folks point to the suffering in the world and mark that as proof that either there is no God, or He is apathetic. I don't agree.

Other folks point to the evidence in the world, and the universe, which seems to show that scripture is wrong, and claim that is proof there is no God. I don't agree with that either.

Now, please don't get me wrong. I love science, and I believe the indusptible evidence that are offered, and even most of the theories that spring from such sleuthing.
But there are curious things about the world that science cannot solve.

For example, there has never been any definitive proof that God doesn't exist. I know, I know. How can one prove something doesn't exist when there isn't any concrete evidence it does?

Well, we can set aside all the anecdotal evidence, since science basis itself on the premise that all things are measureable and repeatable, and therefore, available for experimentation.

But... there is the odd fact that every leap forward that science takes, and some of them have been on leaps which have squared, and cubed previous knowledge, there is always a gap that just falls short of explanation. Always.

OK. Perhaps that is sophistry. That I am still arguing from a negative, not a positive. Though I believe that the gaps are intentional, thereby requiring a leap of faith and not the mancales provided by chains of logic.

How about this...

Why is there beauty?

Perhaps we can argue that beauty flows from perfect design, you know, the old adage that form follows function and perfect funtions is by nature beautiful.

But even saying that the grace found in the run of a cheetah, or the stately movement of whales and flocks of birds, does not address the fact that we appreciate beauty.

There does not seem to be any evolutionary advantage for appreciating beauty.

Now, I'm not trying to argue that there isn't evidence for evolution. I am saying that the lift we feel when we see a rainbow, the awe we experience in the presence of a might water fall, the joy that steals over use when we pluck a rose, smell its fragrance, and note its unfolding patterns of color, provides no advantage to propagating our species. In fact the reverse is true.

Might not the pauses we take in appreciating beauty have put us at risk in times past?

So... I just thinking...

Faith and logic are two different things. They need not be exclusive of each other. But that does not mean we can dismiss each other either.

I've never seen a dog enthralled at the sight of a sunset.

Wood Working

This post is heavily edited from the original.

Today we had our church’s monthly 24 hours of prayer. We get to sign up for one hour sessions.

I managed to get four sessions. I wanted the peace that usually comes from prayer.

Usually comes. Today I left feeling as heavy as when I started.

Worked on a picture on the wall there. Jesus as an ordinary guy... a carpenter. He’s using a chisel to notch out a large beam. I’ve drawn him slightly larger than life. His eyes down, looking at His work, making clear, sharp edges so it will fit another beam. He is wearing a sort of apron, nothing authentic, I just made it up, but it has a couple of pockets. in one pocket the handle of another chisel is barely seen. In another, four large nails.


I’m doing my usual thing, creating the image out of writing prayers and scripture. Slightly new technique though. I'm overlapping the writing where I want it to create darker areas instead of simply writing smaller. The effect has a little more control for color, but less detail. I think it's better.


I wrote stuff I do not wish to discuss here... but I know no one will be able to read it as it is written and rewritten and even I can't make out what is there once it gets covered a couple of times.


So, it will be our secret, OK? The picture is a little nicer than usual, and more personal. This time I know that when a year rolls 'round and it gets repainted, I will feel a greater sense of relief in covering it over. And hopefully it will be at a time when all this current mess is behind me and it will indeed be a new beginning.

Folks will wonder why I would want to paint it over, try to convince me I shouldn't. I will smile inside, knowing intimate prayers have been offered, received, and wiped clean again.

This is a tough time in my life. I believe that when that picture is painted over this coming year, this this challenge will be behind me. One way or another.

I’d like to sit and watch the Carpenter work. I’d like to be in that casual space of His workspace, the time before He began His ministry.

Right now, that is the Jesus I seek in my prayers. The guy who shaped things out of wood. I’m willing to let Him shape me now.

Doofus For Christ

(For unedited version see "The Journey")

Regular visitors to my blogs know I’m a rather strange guy. I write a lot of stuff about all sorts of topics, blending science and faith and technology and personal history with bizarre connections.

I’ve always been a little odd. I wasn’t the sort of teen my father thought I should be, I wasn’t the sort of student my instructors expected, and I’m not the usual sort of member of the congregation in my church.

I’m a doofus.

Just as I tripped over my suddenly too large feet as a teen I still trip over my words, my interactions with people, with ideas that don’t seem to fit in with how others see the world.

The best way to handle my social awkwardness is to keep my mouth shut. If I don’t say anything, if I smile and nod, then folks assume I agree with them and I don’t find myself attempting to defend the unorthodox views I hold.

For example, I embrace science and faith and have little difficulty in seeing how they blend smoothly together. But... many who share my faith bristle at notions of evolution, the Big Bang, quantum mechanics and the age of the universe. Likewise, my favorite magazine, Scientific American, occasionally prints opinion pieces about how foolish faith is in the light of scientific reason.

Parties from both camps will sometimes bait me, try to get me engaged in some silly debate, attempting to force me to defend one side or the other.

I do my best to slide away from such topics except with those I trust enough to share the real me.

I was in a little gathering today, a group discussing the book The Shack by William P. Young. It was suggested that one should approach the book in two ways. One should read it as a novel, just enjoy the plot, the spinning of a tale, and not take it too literally. Meanwhile, to compliment the first, do not accept all the ideas it presents without engaging the mind, comparing it to what our book of faith, The Bible, has to say. I added that there is a third way to approach the book as well, by reading it with the heart.

What I meant by that is the book attempts to describe the indescribable, and it may not hold up to our biblical scrutiny or our own visions and interpretations of God. But, the heart of what is being described, the feelings and emotions, the spiritual responses we might feel, should also be a component in our examination of the novel.

Some around the room smiled at that. Some looked confused. A few had that knowing look, the one that says, “Greenleaf is one strange guy.”

But that piece of literary advice I offered got me thinking.

I know I am a foolish man with foolish ideas. I know that in attempting to wrap my mind around truths as esoteric as the nature of the Creator and how the random workings of the quantum universe results in the apparent order in Newtonian Mechanics, I am playing with concepts and fantasies that I really know very little about. It’s a little like taking the kindergarten class finger-painting virtuoso and asking her to expound on the fine points of Jackson Pollack. Well... perhaps that is a bad example... maybe Salvador Dali... oh... er... Rembrandt, yeah, Rembrandt.

Sometimes I am embarrassed by how goofy I am. I regret that sometimes I make those around me feel awkward.

For example, in church today, I felt like being demonstrative in my worship. I usually don’t let anything hinder me, but today, I knew that my wife would feel awkward if I raised my hands too high, if I shed a tear, or bowed low. So, twice I slipped off to the back of the sanctuary and worshiped where no one was watching. Just because I am a doofus doesn’t mean others need to see it.

But sometimes it is OK to be a doofus.

King David was sometimes a doofus...

David, wearing a linen ephod, danced before the LORD with all his might, while he and the entire house of Israel brought up the ark of the LORD with shouts and the sound of trumpets.

As the ark of the LORD was entering the City of David, Michal daughter of Saul watched from a window. And when she saw King David leaping and dancing before the LORD, she despised him in her heart.
2 Samuel 6:14-16

(If this is a little confusing, an ephod was a type of apron, and the implication here is that King David was wearing ONLY that.)

He was acting a little bit like a doofus.

But, he was acting that way because he didn’t care what anyone else thought, he wanted to dance and sing and love God with abandon.

I think the apostle Peter might have been a doofus at times.

He lept out of a boat to meet Jesus walking on the water... Of course, miracle though it was, he grew afraid and began to sink. Matthew 14:29-31

His heart was bigger than his abilities.

He once said that Jesus would not, should not, die and rise again. He really put his foot in his mouth there. I think he was trying to say, from his own inferior perspective, that Jesus would never die. But he got slapped down pretty hard for telling the Son of God what He would or should do.

He also had other times he put his foot in his mouth. He said he would die for and with Jesus. Jesus told him otherwise.

Later he opposed Paul, and subsequently realized he was wrong.

Peter was a big guy, with a big heart, and often a big mouth. A kind of doofus for God.

I have a lot of failings. I’ve often made a mess of my life. I’ve made mistakes in my marriage, in my parenting, in my employment, in just about everything I have tried.

I am full of strange ideas, and sometimes I open my mouth and tickle my tonsils with my toes.

I recognize many of the wondrous gifts God has given me, but too often I take false pride in them. Silly man who feels special because of a few talents he did not create on his own. Sort of like running around and shouting to the world that the Lord God has given me an... ARM! Uh, yeah.

I try to balance pride with self-knowledge, false modesty with humility, but I fail at it constantly.

And I am realizing this: I’m a silly man, suddenly older than he thought he was, and unable to control what he thought he could, and thinks about things that are almost certainly completely in error... but... I love God with all of my heart. I screw up in following Him properly all the time. But, I am unashamed of my faith, and I think that though I am such a screw up in so many ways, I think that God is pleased with my heart.

So... I may stumble over my own feet, over my own tongue, but that is OK.

I’m a doofus for Christ.