In Brian McLaren's book, The Secret Message of Jesus, in an appendix rather presumptuously entitled, "Why Didn't We Get It Sooner?" McLaren attempts to explain why, after 2,000 years, the church is suddenly discovering the real meaning of what Jesus taught (described in McLaren's book). There is a quote, there, from Soren Kierkegaard with which I resonated:
"The Bible is easy to understand. But we Christians are a bunch of scheming swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it because we know very well that the minute we understand, we are obligated to act accordingly. Take any words in th New Testament and forget everything except pledging yourself to act accordingly. My God, you will say, if I do that, my whole life will be ruined. How would I get on in the world? Herein lies the real place of Christian scolarship. Christian scholarship is the church's prodigious attempt to defend itself against the Bible, to ensure that we can continue to be good Christians without the Bible coming too close. Dreadful it is to fall into the hands of the living God. Yes, it is even dreadful to be alone with the New Testament."
The big issue today is, what is worship? How is it properly done? What is its focus?
Unfortunately, I have difficulty believing that the new, postmodern examinations of things (of which McLaren's is just a sample) will improve things much. The Emergent fascination with things "catholic" is an understandable reaction to the pace of change and innovation and the individualism that have infused our culture and our church institutions under the sway of modernity. But shall we retreat into liturgical formalism — essentially a more ancient, much more institutionalized, less entrepreneurial swindle — just because our current swindle no longer pleases?
I wonder if the church has always been, and will continue to be, hidden from those who analyze, theorize, philosophize, rationalize, criiticize and ultimately obliterate the Gospel's endless creative power. Maybe the church has always been those whose hearts and eyes lift heavenward and see the face of Christ and then, individually and collectively (as the Temple in which the Father and Son, by the Holy Spirit, are please to dwell), simply go out to serve others out of love for Him. They're there, in "free" churches, liturgical churches, pentecostal churches, quietly, humbly, obediently loving, serving, giving — passed over in all the current tumult, ignored because they don't toot their own horns, unheard because they don't write books or get invited to talk shows, ignored because they're not out in the marketplace making their marks, but instead frequent the hospice and the homeless shelter, take meals to the Muslim family next door down with the flu, provide a home for their neglected niece or nephew, help an elderly neighbor repair his porch and spend most of their time listening to how it used to be, and a thousand, thousand other acts of true spiritual worship.
I suspect these folks won't be leaving their current church institutions any time soon, nor will they abandon the forms of worship handed down to them. For one thing, they don't have the time for much critical reflection. They're too busy worshipping in thought, word and deed. In Spirit and in Truth. I think they know, in their heart of hearts, that the mere human forms aren't "it." They sense, but often cannot articulate, that these will always come and go like the tides.
I imagine millions of them, all over the earth — maybe many not "Christian" by many institional definitons — who nevertheless imbibe from the True Vine, not just once a week (with wine, bells and smells) or once a month (with grape juice) at a Sunday service, but continually, inauspiciously, gratefully as they live out His command to love your enemy, do good to those who despitefully use you, comfort the comfortless, relieve the oppressed, feed the hungry.
I don't know that this is true. These folks, after all, are hidden. They aren't "getting on in the world." They walk right by opportunities to make a Splash, do something Big, get Noticed and have Influence. Only God knows. But I hope they're there. In fact, I have faith that they are out there. And I love them for their perserverance in the face of the impediments that we thinkers and insitutionalizers set in their way. They know and live the truth of I Cor. 13. They are the secret message of Jesus. They are His Body. They are the True Worshipers. Their faith, hope and love abide.
What they do in secret, God will surely reward openly on The Day. And there may indeed be gnashing of teeth among those of us who are now so sure we've discovered the One Right Way.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Emergent, Submergent, Convergent ... Avergent
We've heard a lot, in the last couple of years about the "Emergent church," what many who are unhappy with the current state of the evangelical "free" church have proposed as an antidote to its ills. A friend of mine recently coined the term Submergent, for those folks who still (most of the time) adhere (more or less) to the Christian faith, but aren't particularly interested (not at all, in fact) in organizing it. (According to Christian pollster George Barna, that's one of the faster-growing groups.) But recently, I heard about another group, who see themselves as the Convergent church, as opposed to the divergent church (catholic, protestant, pentecostal) that dominated the 20th century.
Convergers are a collection of folks who once were exclusively committed to either evangelical, charismatic or liturgical forms of worship (some of them, to more than one, one at a time) who have, evidently, found they each need the other. The convergers' quarrel with church as it is, is this: The church's evangelical, liturgical and sacramental threads have become separated, and they need to be reunited, as they were in the Ist Century. Convergers say they're not opposed to the sense of mission that has enlivened evangelical faith and pratice, but they have subsumed the "saving of souls" under a larger concern for creating a "community of worship." As I understand it, they hope to bring together the best of what each brings to the party, and become the church that touches all the 20th Century bases, but doesn't get stuck at any of them. It remains to be seen if they've hit a homerun with that one (sorry, I got stuck in the baseball analogy and there was just no way out but through the middle.)
The Convergent idea has a lot of appeal. A few years ago, I went to an Episcopal Church in Ambridge, Pa. that lived out convergence, combining the liturgical worship from the Book of Common Prayer with contemporary worship music (we had a great band) and charismatic ministry. It was wonderful. But I don't recall ever hearing the word "Convergence." According to this, the Convergence "movement" isn't exactly new, either. I'm just living a pretty provincial existence, I guess.
Although Emergers have gravitated to convergent thought, too, it appears that capital "C"-type Convergers tend not to be young, enthusiastic and start-from-scratch types. Rather, those prominent in this group tend to be older, greyer and self-described "wounded warriors" most of whom are currently entrenched in well-established institutions. Recognizable names include:
Robert Webber, who wrote extensively about worship in the 1980s. His book Evangelicals on the Canterbury Way described and then helped encourage an exodus of protestant evangelicals to what is now the deeply divided U.S. Episcopal Church.
Thomas Howard (brother of Elizabeth Elliot, whose first husband was Jim Eliot, one of the five martyred missionaries whose story was recalled in the recent movie End of the Spear. Once an influential thinker and writer in evangelical circles, Howard's much publicized conversion to Roman Catholicism in the last century briefly stood the evangelical world on its ear.
Mike Warnke. Yes, he's the former Satanist (a disputed claim) turned charismatic Christian comedian, circa. 1970s. One of the more wounded of the warriors (most self-inflicted, according to this), Warnke became interested in Easterm Orthodoxy in the 1990s and actually started his own independent denomination, the Holy Orthodox Catholic Church in Kentucky.
Prominent among those at the meeting was Simon Chan, a professor of systematic theology at Trinity Theological College in Singapore. Don't be fooled by his Asian origins. Dr. Chan is thorough-goingly Western in his tendency to go to scripture and find in its complex web of song, law, history, prophecy, parable and epistle a systematic and, in fact, ontological argument for liturgical worship. For a taste of his argument, check out this interview on the Christianity Today Web site.
Convergers are — so far — an unofficial group, but I say "so far" because, unlike Emergers and, especially, Submergers, Convergers have a high view of apostolic authority. Their attempt to reunite the divergent strains of the faith is wrapped up in a larger desire to reunite the church not only as one faith, with one practice, but under one government. Convergers seem unashamedly hierarchical and simply assume that the church needs an institutional structure in order to accomplish its mission. So, while Emergers tend toward the catholic, with a small "c," Convergers show all the signs of a movement that would inevitably lead to something more Catholic, with a very large capital "C". Full circle, anyone?
To be fair, the investigation I've done so far (by no means thorough) indicates that their commitment to this concept is not necessarily to be confused with a commitment to such things as an all-male priesthood or a return to the deep division between clergy and laity that once kept the scriptures out of the hands of the laity — one of the many ills the protestant movement sought to remedy. But they've still got to ignore a lot of history. One of the reasons Eastern Orthodoxy has so much appeal to both Emergers and Convergers, I think, is that the Orthodox strains have a slightly less bloody history than does the Western liturgical strain, what with the latter's inquisitions, crusades and the other negative fallout from its political hegemony in Europe. If you're advocating a return to the idea of a single church institution, its best not to appeal to the Roman model.
I dunno. I suppose all of this is just part of the deal. We just keep searching for the One Right Way to "do church." I'd like to propose a new group (NOT a movement): The Avergent church. We are those who are simply averse to all this dissecting, theorizing, systematizing, codifying and pontificating about what the church is (or isn't), what it's supposed to do (or not do), and the endless writing and reading and discussing of books on the subject. It is this sort of endless discourse and the inevitable wrangling and nitpicking that attends it that first divided us. How is it, then, that we think it will, now, this late in the game — against the evidence of all this history — unite us?
Avergent churchers believe that if there was One Right Way to do church, there would be a book in the Bible entitled, "The One Right Way." There isn't. It's just not clear.
Jesus did say, "The world will know that you are my disciples if you love one another." Pretty clear.
We'd have to stop arguing with one another to do that. So in the meantime, we Avergers figure we do the best we can to do what is clear, and leave the wrangling to the academes.
Convergers are a collection of folks who once were exclusively committed to either evangelical, charismatic or liturgical forms of worship (some of them, to more than one, one at a time) who have, evidently, found they each need the other. The convergers' quarrel with church as it is, is this: The church's evangelical, liturgical and sacramental threads have become separated, and they need to be reunited, as they were in the Ist Century. Convergers say they're not opposed to the sense of mission that has enlivened evangelical faith and pratice, but they have subsumed the "saving of souls" under a larger concern for creating a "community of worship." As I understand it, they hope to bring together the best of what each brings to the party, and become the church that touches all the 20th Century bases, but doesn't get stuck at any of them. It remains to be seen if they've hit a homerun with that one (sorry, I got stuck in the baseball analogy and there was just no way out but through the middle.)
The Convergent idea has a lot of appeal. A few years ago, I went to an Episcopal Church in Ambridge, Pa. that lived out convergence, combining the liturgical worship from the Book of Common Prayer with contemporary worship music (we had a great band) and charismatic ministry. It was wonderful. But I don't recall ever hearing the word "Convergence." According to this, the Convergence "movement" isn't exactly new, either. I'm just living a pretty provincial existence, I guess.
Although Emergers have gravitated to convergent thought, too, it appears that capital "C"-type Convergers tend not to be young, enthusiastic and start-from-scratch types. Rather, those prominent in this group tend to be older, greyer and self-described "wounded warriors" most of whom are currently entrenched in well-established institutions. Recognizable names include:
Robert Webber, who wrote extensively about worship in the 1980s. His book Evangelicals on the Canterbury Way described and then helped encourage an exodus of protestant evangelicals to what is now the deeply divided U.S. Episcopal Church.
Thomas Howard (brother of Elizabeth Elliot, whose first husband was Jim Eliot, one of the five martyred missionaries whose story was recalled in the recent movie End of the Spear. Once an influential thinker and writer in evangelical circles, Howard's much publicized conversion to Roman Catholicism in the last century briefly stood the evangelical world on its ear.
Mike Warnke. Yes, he's the former Satanist (a disputed claim) turned charismatic Christian comedian, circa. 1970s. One of the more wounded of the warriors (most self-inflicted, according to this), Warnke became interested in Easterm Orthodoxy in the 1990s and actually started his own independent denomination, the Holy Orthodox Catholic Church in Kentucky.
Prominent among those at the meeting was Simon Chan, a professor of systematic theology at Trinity Theological College in Singapore. Don't be fooled by his Asian origins. Dr. Chan is thorough-goingly Western in his tendency to go to scripture and find in its complex web of song, law, history, prophecy, parable and epistle a systematic and, in fact, ontological argument for liturgical worship. For a taste of his argument, check out this interview on the Christianity Today Web site.
Convergers are — so far — an unofficial group, but I say "so far" because, unlike Emergers and, especially, Submergers, Convergers have a high view of apostolic authority. Their attempt to reunite the divergent strains of the faith is wrapped up in a larger desire to reunite the church not only as one faith, with one practice, but under one government. Convergers seem unashamedly hierarchical and simply assume that the church needs an institutional structure in order to accomplish its mission. So, while Emergers tend toward the catholic, with a small "c," Convergers show all the signs of a movement that would inevitably lead to something more Catholic, with a very large capital "C". Full circle, anyone?
To be fair, the investigation I've done so far (by no means thorough) indicates that their commitment to this concept is not necessarily to be confused with a commitment to such things as an all-male priesthood or a return to the deep division between clergy and laity that once kept the scriptures out of the hands of the laity — one of the many ills the protestant movement sought to remedy. But they've still got to ignore a lot of history. One of the reasons Eastern Orthodoxy has so much appeal to both Emergers and Convergers, I think, is that the Orthodox strains have a slightly less bloody history than does the Western liturgical strain, what with the latter's inquisitions, crusades and the other negative fallout from its political hegemony in Europe. If you're advocating a return to the idea of a single church institution, its best not to appeal to the Roman model.
I dunno. I suppose all of this is just part of the deal. We just keep searching for the One Right Way to "do church." I'd like to propose a new group (NOT a movement): The Avergent church. We are those who are simply averse to all this dissecting, theorizing, systematizing, codifying and pontificating about what the church is (or isn't), what it's supposed to do (or not do), and the endless writing and reading and discussing of books on the subject. It is this sort of endless discourse and the inevitable wrangling and nitpicking that attends it that first divided us. How is it, then, that we think it will, now, this late in the game — against the evidence of all this history — unite us?
Avergent churchers believe that if there was One Right Way to do church, there would be a book in the Bible entitled, "The One Right Way." There isn't. It's just not clear.
Jesus did say, "The world will know that you are my disciples if you love one another." Pretty clear.
We'd have to stop arguing with one another to do that. So in the meantime, we Avergers figure we do the best we can to do what is clear, and leave the wrangling to the academes.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Linguistic Tweaking
So ... could we retire the "F" word?
Back in the day (wa-a-a-y back, if you're my age), even the tough guys in my neighborhood didn't use the word. It was the most well known of several you just didn't use, especially in front of your mom or a girl you liked. Of course, I didn't come from a very rough neighborhood, so there may have been places where it was already impacting daily speech patterns, but if so, we didn't know about it.
Not so today. With plenty of encouragement from the entertainment industry (movies, rappers, punk rockers, etc.) it now peppers the speech of grade schoolers. Trash talk has become small talk. And, courtesy the feminist movement, it's also no longer the preserve of the guys. Follow a pack of teenage girls around the mall for 15 minutes some Saturday and listen to the conversation. "Swear like a sailor" comes to mind.
Once a word that made a big, if negative impact, it's become as common as "and uh" and "like." In fact, for the generation now in high school, it is, like the once sacred act it purports to denote, nothing more or less than punctuation. The act itself — devalued through careless, thoughtless repetition with little connection to the intimacy of committed love it was intended to express — has lost all meaning and purpose. Neither the act nor the accompanying four-letter word carries much punch anymore. Spoken in the wrong company, it once might have earned you a punch in the jaw. Today it rarely raises an eyebrow. In fact, it's a badge of coolness in certain circles, along with baggy, fallin' down britches, black fingernail polish, multiple tattoos and piercings in sensitive areas.
Even Christians don't want to be left out. They do the best they can, albeit obliquely, using sound-alike terms in an attempt to get with the cool without breaking the rule, as it were. I've heard otherwise orthodox, Bible-believin', church goin' folk substitute forkin', freakin', frickin,' friggin' and just plain f'n — with no thought to what Paul might have meant in his discussion of the letter vs. the spirit of the law.
Linguists will tell you (if they haven't already given up and retired to monasteries in the desert) that the way we use our words says a lot about our culture. In this case, our society has managed, despite its best attempts to do otherwise, to make the subject of sex commonplace and ... well, downright boring. About as fun as chain-smoking cigars. The whole thing leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
I'd like to suggest that it-s time for a thorough-going change. We've worn this one out. So how 'bout we all agree on a new word?
My vote goes to tweak.
I know. It's an irritating word, but ... not quite the same. But say it over and over. Kind of obnoxious, right? Now use it three or four times in the same sentence. What have you got? An expletive that, unlike its well-worn predecessor, actually gets more distasteful with use!
And use it we do. Our project at work doesn't need a rewrite or another edit anymore, it just needs a tweak. We don't adjust things anymore. We tweak them. We don't get out ducks in a row, we tweak things into line.
Tweak is already in common use and, in my estimation, has already crossed the border into overuse, so it's an excellent candidate. Imagine it as punctuation — truly breathtaking, and certain to be every bit as aggressive, irritating, offensive and off-putting as the word we're retiring.
Back in the day (wa-a-a-y back, if you're my age), even the tough guys in my neighborhood didn't use the word. It was the most well known of several you just didn't use, especially in front of your mom or a girl you liked. Of course, I didn't come from a very rough neighborhood, so there may have been places where it was already impacting daily speech patterns, but if so, we didn't know about it.
Not so today. With plenty of encouragement from the entertainment industry (movies, rappers, punk rockers, etc.) it now peppers the speech of grade schoolers. Trash talk has become small talk. And, courtesy the feminist movement, it's also no longer the preserve of the guys. Follow a pack of teenage girls around the mall for 15 minutes some Saturday and listen to the conversation. "Swear like a sailor" comes to mind.
Once a word that made a big, if negative impact, it's become as common as "and uh" and "like." In fact, for the generation now in high school, it is, like the once sacred act it purports to denote, nothing more or less than punctuation. The act itself — devalued through careless, thoughtless repetition with little connection to the intimacy of committed love it was intended to express — has lost all meaning and purpose. Neither the act nor the accompanying four-letter word carries much punch anymore. Spoken in the wrong company, it once might have earned you a punch in the jaw. Today it rarely raises an eyebrow. In fact, it's a badge of coolness in certain circles, along with baggy, fallin' down britches, black fingernail polish, multiple tattoos and piercings in sensitive areas.
Even Christians don't want to be left out. They do the best they can, albeit obliquely, using sound-alike terms in an attempt to get with the cool without breaking the rule, as it were. I've heard otherwise orthodox, Bible-believin', church goin' folk substitute forkin', freakin', frickin,' friggin' and just plain f'n — with no thought to what Paul might have meant in his discussion of the letter vs. the spirit of the law.
Linguists will tell you (if they haven't already given up and retired to monasteries in the desert) that the way we use our words says a lot about our culture. In this case, our society has managed, despite its best attempts to do otherwise, to make the subject of sex commonplace and ... well, downright boring. About as fun as chain-smoking cigars. The whole thing leaves a bad taste in your mouth.
I'd like to suggest that it-s time for a thorough-going change. We've worn this one out. So how 'bout we all agree on a new word?
My vote goes to tweak.
I know. It's an irritating word, but ... not quite the same. But say it over and over. Kind of obnoxious, right? Now use it three or four times in the same sentence. What have you got? An expletive that, unlike its well-worn predecessor, actually gets more distasteful with use!
And use it we do. Our project at work doesn't need a rewrite or another edit anymore, it just needs a tweak. We don't adjust things anymore. We tweak them. We don't get out ducks in a row, we tweak things into line.
Tweak is already in common use and, in my estimation, has already crossed the border into overuse, so it's an excellent candidate. Imagine it as punctuation — truly breathtaking, and certain to be every bit as aggressive, irritating, offensive and off-putting as the word we're retiring.
Saturday, February 10, 2007
3Gs vs. TXT TLK
We're living in the dawn of a new age, which is spawning a new culture, right before our eyes.
If you've got any doubts about that, you don't have teenagers.
It's a technology-driven change, to be sure, and I suspect it will have effects as far reaching as the Industrial Revolution, which has rated initial caps in all the history books for decades. I'm predicting that the Electronics Revolution will get equal billing in high school textbooks of the future. Assuming there is such a thing as high school.
The explosion of intant text messaging, e-mail, and chat/billboard/blog/RPG (role-playing game) sites, such as MySpace, Invisionfree and Gaia, has almost assured that this generation will alter the English language forever. In fact, practitioners of instant texting already have a new name for the language they are inventing. It's txt tlk (in English: Text Talk).
As you've probably already noticed, two of the distinctives of this new language are the dropping of vowels and lack of capitalization (exception: ALL CAPS are used for emphasis). A third is the pervasive use of single characters in place of sound-alike words. Examples: u = you; 4 = for. This technique also is used to shorten multi-syllable words. For instance, educ8 is used, (rather ironically, I'd say) in place of educate. Then there are the three-letter combinations that stand in for common phrases: omg (oh, my god), btw (by the way), lol (laugh out loud) ... oh yeah, and the already well-worn wtf (what the f---?). Some forms are simply the instituionalization of common typos: teh or te, for the. Then there's pwn3d, which translates to "owned" which has acquired the new meaning of "the state of having had crap kicked out of." Punctuation, predictably, is unnecessary, the exception being the ubiquitous "smiley-faces" which dot txt tlk communications and represent, iconically, the writer's current emotional state. There's at least one Web site from which you can download a face, many with animation, for every imaginable emotional state.
This would not be so bad if it were not for the fact that these new rules are not followed with any real consistency and, depending on the practioners, there are a number of other modifications employed that often render the message indeciperable, even to those fluent in txt tlk. For example, educ8 sometimes ends up as eduk8, eguc8 — or even edu* for those who, for reasons known only to themselves, suddenly lapse back into use of the shift key. R u bgn-n 2c hw crzy it cud gt?
In part, text tlk is motivated by necessity. It's tough to fit a message in the tiny space available on a mobile phone screen. It's also a pain in the neck to use that tiny keypad as if it were a typewriter. And it shortens the hunt-and-peck time for those who can't type in the first place. But txt tlk has spilled over into e-mail, chat rooms, billboards and blogs.
Adults, predictably, are scratching their heads at this plundering of the mother tongue's rich heritage. But what you may not know is that a growing number of young folks otherwise hip to everything electronic have mounted a counter-assault on txt tlk. At the Gaia site (www.gaiaonline.com), an RPG site where members can join "guilds," based on their current interest, the most popular guild is (I'm not making this up!) the Gaia Grammar Guild. It recently surpassed in popularity the previously most visited guild, which attracted those wishing to learn how to draw Anime figures.
Members of 3G find and expose particularly egregious (and often hilarious) examples of txt tlk and offer correction. (The rule is, ridicule the practice, but not the person.) To join 3G, one must submit a written request, using proper capitalization, grammar, spelling and word forms accepted by Webster. They aren't snobs. They're prepared to forgive the occasional typo. But they're passionately for communication and, therefore, preserving enough of the language we already have to make it possible. They're after the intentional desecration. And there's plenty to be found.
They may be fighting a losing battle. Languages change, whether we like it or not. English, for instance, is a polyglot mixture of German, French, Latin and the remnants of Celtic and Gallic tongues used back when the Irish, Scots and Brits were loose-knit collections of warring clans. But the pace of change, for most of human history, had been slow enough to give most folks the impression of stability. What's different today is that the pace has accelerated to near light-speed. By the time these kid's kids hit grade school, it'll be a rare kid for whom the English we adults now speak isn't a second language.
No way, you say? Consider this: One Gaia member recently entered into evidence a student survey, composed by school faculty members in txt tlk. Worse, I read, years ago now (long before text messaging was even a possiblity), an article by a linguist who made the case for intentionally creating a new language eerily similar to txt tlk, as a means of keeping our communication up to the increasing speed of modern life. One could hope that, now that they (linguists and teachers) are doing it, many kids will decide it's no fun anymore. But don't be surprised if, in 10 years time, your local school board is debating, with straight faces, the wisdom of permitting students to turn in written assignments in txt tlk. Teachers, of course, will be compelled to spend their continuing education credits boning up on this new verbal phenom in order to "relate" to their students.
Future history books will have chapters entitled "d lektrnk rvlushn." No caps, of course. lhm (Lord, have mercy!).
If you've got any doubts about that, you don't have teenagers.
It's a technology-driven change, to be sure, and I suspect it will have effects as far reaching as the Industrial Revolution, which has rated initial caps in all the history books for decades. I'm predicting that the Electronics Revolution will get equal billing in high school textbooks of the future. Assuming there is such a thing as high school.
The explosion of intant text messaging, e-mail, and chat/billboard/blog/RPG (role-playing game) sites, such as MySpace, Invisionfree and Gaia, has almost assured that this generation will alter the English language forever. In fact, practitioners of instant texting already have a new name for the language they are inventing. It's txt tlk (in English: Text Talk).
As you've probably already noticed, two of the distinctives of this new language are the dropping of vowels and lack of capitalization (exception: ALL CAPS are used for emphasis). A third is the pervasive use of single characters in place of sound-alike words. Examples: u = you; 4 = for. This technique also is used to shorten multi-syllable words. For instance, educ8 is used, (rather ironically, I'd say) in place of educate. Then there are the three-letter combinations that stand in for common phrases: omg (oh, my god), btw (by the way), lol (laugh out loud) ... oh yeah, and the already well-worn wtf (what the f---?). Some forms are simply the instituionalization of common typos: teh or te, for the. Then there's pwn3d, which translates to "owned" which has acquired the new meaning of "the state of having had crap kicked out of." Punctuation, predictably, is unnecessary, the exception being the ubiquitous "smiley-faces" which dot txt tlk communications and represent, iconically, the writer's current emotional state. There's at least one Web site from which you can download a face, many with animation, for every imaginable emotional state.
This would not be so bad if it were not for the fact that these new rules are not followed with any real consistency and, depending on the practioners, there are a number of other modifications employed that often render the message indeciperable, even to those fluent in txt tlk. For example, educ8 sometimes ends up as eduk8, eguc8 — or even edu* for those who, for reasons known only to themselves, suddenly lapse back into use of the shift key. R u bgn-n 2c hw crzy it cud gt?
In part, text tlk is motivated by necessity. It's tough to fit a message in the tiny space available on a mobile phone screen. It's also a pain in the neck to use that tiny keypad as if it were a typewriter. And it shortens the hunt-and-peck time for those who can't type in the first place. But txt tlk has spilled over into e-mail, chat rooms, billboards and blogs.
Adults, predictably, are scratching their heads at this plundering of the mother tongue's rich heritage. But what you may not know is that a growing number of young folks otherwise hip to everything electronic have mounted a counter-assault on txt tlk. At the Gaia site (www.gaiaonline.com), an RPG site where members can join "guilds," based on their current interest, the most popular guild is (I'm not making this up!) the Gaia Grammar Guild. It recently surpassed in popularity the previously most visited guild, which attracted those wishing to learn how to draw Anime figures.
Members of 3G find and expose particularly egregious (and often hilarious) examples of txt tlk and offer correction. (The rule is, ridicule the practice, but not the person.) To join 3G, one must submit a written request, using proper capitalization, grammar, spelling and word forms accepted by Webster. They aren't snobs. They're prepared to forgive the occasional typo. But they're passionately for communication and, therefore, preserving enough of the language we already have to make it possible. They're after the intentional desecration. And there's plenty to be found.
They may be fighting a losing battle. Languages change, whether we like it or not. English, for instance, is a polyglot mixture of German, French, Latin and the remnants of Celtic and Gallic tongues used back when the Irish, Scots and Brits were loose-knit collections of warring clans. But the pace of change, for most of human history, had been slow enough to give most folks the impression of stability. What's different today is that the pace has accelerated to near light-speed. By the time these kid's kids hit grade school, it'll be a rare kid for whom the English we adults now speak isn't a second language.
No way, you say? Consider this: One Gaia member recently entered into evidence a student survey, composed by school faculty members in txt tlk. Worse, I read, years ago now (long before text messaging was even a possiblity), an article by a linguist who made the case for intentionally creating a new language eerily similar to txt tlk, as a means of keeping our communication up to the increasing speed of modern life. One could hope that, now that they (linguists and teachers) are doing it, many kids will decide it's no fun anymore. But don't be surprised if, in 10 years time, your local school board is debating, with straight faces, the wisdom of permitting students to turn in written assignments in txt tlk. Teachers, of course, will be compelled to spend their continuing education credits boning up on this new verbal phenom in order to "relate" to their students.
Future history books will have chapters entitled "d lektrnk rvlushn." No caps, of course. lhm (Lord, have mercy!).
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Signs of the Time
Time was when Time magazine was a bastion of editorial conservatism, by which I mean nothing like conservatism of the political or religious sort. I mean, instead, that Time maintained a commitment to editorial objectivity — or at least an attempt at it — when most other "news" outlets in the late 20th Century were gleefully abandoning theirs.
Alas, no more. I picked up the November 13, 2006 issue today while at the dentist's office. The cover copy indicated that inside, I'd find "a spirited debate between atheist biologist Richard Dawkins and Christian geneticist Francis Collins" in the cover story entitledGod vs. Science(click the title to read the archived article online at the Time Web site). Curious, I bit, and dived into the article. Done in interview format, the piece is billed as the transcript of a 90-minute debate moderated by a Time correspondent. The exchange however, is something short of spirited (I suspect the editors thought that was a clever play on words) and it delivered nothing like the sort of discussion implied by the title.
From its inception the article assumes that intelligent design, an alternative to evolution that actually predates Darwin's work, is simply the religious wolf clad in new scientific wool. "In recent years," writes article author David Van Biema, "creationism took on new currency as the spiritual progenitor of 'intelligent design' (I.D.), a scientifically worded attempt to show that blanks in the evolutionary narrative are more meaningful than its very convincing totality." Scientifically worded? Very convincing totality? So much for editorial objectivity. So the creationists are mentioned, then dismissed, before the debate begins.
What does take place is a conversation between two scientists — one a Christian and one who, though billed as the athiest in the group, actually attempts late in the game to confess to agnosticism — who despite their differences about the existence of a deity of the sort currently worship by Christian, Jew or Moslem, both accept the prevailing theory of evolution as substantially sound. This is not God vs. Science. Rather its a discussion about whether or not an evolutionist can be a theist without surrendering his key to the lab.
Mr. Dawkins does his best to make it the promised spirited exchange. He twice refers to Collins' position as a "cop-out," the second time, "the mother and father of all cop-outs." He refers to those who believe the Genesis account of creation to be literally true as "clowns" whom theist Collins should ignore. He even trashes one of his own, Harvard paleontologist Stephen Jay Gould (who did more in the last Century than any other living scientist to rescue evolution from its critics by postulating changes to Darwin's classic theory that explained away glaring flaws) by saying that Gould's belief that evolutionary theory and religious belief could co-exist was a politically motivated sham. Collins, to his eternal credit, does not respond in kind. But he certainly is not a representative of those who oppose evolution on biblical grounds.
Van Biema notes that Dawkins is an outspoken member of a much published group of scientific types who are currently on the offensive against religion. The growing list includes Sam Harris, the much publicized and verbally pugnacious author of The End of Faith as well as a posthumous collection of astrophysicist Carl Sagan's skeptical lectures about God.
Personally, I welcome the assault. The rising atheist tide comes at a time when evangelical Christianity, the presumed progenitor of I.D., is in the throes of a much needed self-examination. But Christians are never more like their true selves than when persecuted. Historically, efforts to stamp out their faith have inevitably failed. Christians outlasted Russia's Secret Police and China's Red Guards in the last Century. And they will outlast America's 21st Century Materialists, too. Especially if they're no longer invited to the debate. That'll give them more time to do what Jesus told them to do. Arguing with atheist scientists really isn't on the to-do list.
Alas, no more. I picked up the November 13, 2006 issue today while at the dentist's office. The cover copy indicated that inside, I'd find "a spirited debate between atheist biologist Richard Dawkins and Christian geneticist Francis Collins" in the cover story entitledGod vs. Science(click the title to read the archived article online at the Time Web site). Curious, I bit, and dived into the article. Done in interview format, the piece is billed as the transcript of a 90-minute debate moderated by a Time correspondent. The exchange however, is something short of spirited (I suspect the editors thought that was a clever play on words) and it delivered nothing like the sort of discussion implied by the title.
From its inception the article assumes that intelligent design, an alternative to evolution that actually predates Darwin's work, is simply the religious wolf clad in new scientific wool. "In recent years," writes article author David Van Biema, "creationism took on new currency as the spiritual progenitor of 'intelligent design' (I.D.), a scientifically worded attempt to show that blanks in the evolutionary narrative are more meaningful than its very convincing totality." Scientifically worded? Very convincing totality? So much for editorial objectivity. So the creationists are mentioned, then dismissed, before the debate begins.
What does take place is a conversation between two scientists — one a Christian and one who, though billed as the athiest in the group, actually attempts late in the game to confess to agnosticism — who despite their differences about the existence of a deity of the sort currently worship by Christian, Jew or Moslem, both accept the prevailing theory of evolution as substantially sound. This is not God vs. Science. Rather its a discussion about whether or not an evolutionist can be a theist without surrendering his key to the lab.
Mr. Dawkins does his best to make it the promised spirited exchange. He twice refers to Collins' position as a "cop-out," the second time, "the mother and father of all cop-outs." He refers to those who believe the Genesis account of creation to be literally true as "clowns" whom theist Collins should ignore. He even trashes one of his own, Harvard paleontologist Stephen Jay Gould (who did more in the last Century than any other living scientist to rescue evolution from its critics by postulating changes to Darwin's classic theory that explained away glaring flaws) by saying that Gould's belief that evolutionary theory and religious belief could co-exist was a politically motivated sham. Collins, to his eternal credit, does not respond in kind. But he certainly is not a representative of those who oppose evolution on biblical grounds.
Van Biema notes that Dawkins is an outspoken member of a much published group of scientific types who are currently on the offensive against religion. The growing list includes Sam Harris, the much publicized and verbally pugnacious author of The End of Faith as well as a posthumous collection of astrophysicist Carl Sagan's skeptical lectures about God.
Personally, I welcome the assault. The rising atheist tide comes at a time when evangelical Christianity, the presumed progenitor of I.D., is in the throes of a much needed self-examination. But Christians are never more like their true selves than when persecuted. Historically, efforts to stamp out their faith have inevitably failed. Christians outlasted Russia's Secret Police and China's Red Guards in the last Century. And they will outlast America's 21st Century Materialists, too. Especially if they're no longer invited to the debate. That'll give them more time to do what Jesus told them to do. Arguing with atheist scientists really isn't on the to-do list.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Church Growth Dressed up as Emergent?
Found this post at the Apprising Ministries blog, concerning Rob Bell's Mars Hill Bible Church in Grand Rapids — not to be confused with the Mars Hill in Seattle, pastored by complimentarian Mark Driscoll who, last International Women's Day, took some serious heat for statements allegedly not in support of women in church leadership.
Rob Bell, who by all accounts is egalitarian, is pastor of what various observers say is the "the fastest growing church in America." He's certainly got a unique way of expressing the timeless message of the Gospel. And he's got a church of 10,000 that he started in 1999 in a gymnasium.
What many don't know is that gymnasium was pretty full the first Sunday. Somewhere between 700 to 1,000 people were there from the get-go. That's more people than a lot of pastors ever see come through a church in its entire existence (the great majority of U.S. churches number 100 or less).
Many of those attending that first Sunday apparently knew him well. He had helped oversee their spiritual development for four to five years as a pastor on staff at Ed Dobson's nearby megachurch — something Bell neglected to mention in his account of his church plant in his new book Velvet Elvis. Hmmmmmm.
Wouldn't want to take anything away from what he's done or doing, but ... you've got a better shot at 10,000 when you start with 1,000 than the emergent folks meeting in someone's living room.
What's troubling about his story is that it sounds more amazing than it is. You get the image of this guy just kinda falling into ministry (his first formal ministry is a patched-together talk he gives at a retreat when the billed speaker didn't show), and then after he gets some encouragement and completes his seminary education, he goes to Grand Rapids and just wants to preach the Gospel and sort of watches this church spring up around him. He's as surprised by it as you are! "We had no idea how many people would show up that first Sunday." Yeah, but Rob, you probably had a fair idea. I mean, you had a very successful teaching ministry at one of the largest churches in the country for five years. Since everyone at Dobson's church knew for quite some time that you and "several other people" were going to go set up shop in that gym, how likely was it that you'd preach to a room full of empty chairs?
Don't get me wrong. I've seen some of his work, and he has a way of making the Gospel come alive. And truth is, there are a lot of pastors who could start with that 700-1,000 and walk away empty in five years. If you're into church growth, it's an amazing story even without the mythic implication of 0-10,000 in six years. I don't intend here to take anything away from what he's managed to do. It is remarkable. And I believe with all my heart that God's in it, too. But it does rob it of some of its mythic shock and awe when you find that Bell got to bypass, rather than find a way to overcome, those tough-to-get-past church growth plateaus (90, 125, 225 and 350) everyone used to write so much about.
Bell says he's not into church growth. The story that he refused to let his leadership team put up a sign outside the gym is, no doubt, true. Didn't have to. He says the church grew by word of mouth. Probably did. Several thousand mouths, apparently, assuming most adults at Dobson's church knew about the plans.
Bell's not into church growth, but his church plant is an almost by-the-book demonstration of classic church growth principles, developed and first taught, by the way, at Fuller Seminary, his spiritual alma mater.
Bell's not into marketing, either. Really? I happened to pick up his book off the rack at our church book room this morning and found it intriguing. I actually read his abbreviated account of his church's beginnings, which was why I Googled him this afternoon and came to find the above. There are, oh, 70-80 books, maybe, on the racks at church, and dozens of music tapes and other stuff. I'd just stepped in to sorta hide out, because it was that noisy period between services from which we ultra-introverts occasionally need a break. Why did that book catch my eye? Easy: It was smaller than the rest. Had a plain white cover and, in tiny type, running top-to-bottom near the upper right-hand corner, it said, simply Velvet Elvis. In a room full of flash, with authors names emblazoned bigger than book titles, it stood out like a beacon. "What's this about, I wonder?" I said as picked it up. I just hadta pick it up. That, my friends, is textbook good marketing. "In a crowded marketplace, differentiate your product." I'm not criticizing. You write a book, why? Presumably, because you want people to read it. It was good packaging. It did exactly what it was intended to do.
I have nothing against those who feel it is time to update or reinvent or rediscover the gospel. I guess I'll even live with the idea that Jesus had a "secret" message that we're just now unveiling. But this reinvention process is not new. Every generation has repackaged the faith to fit its present realities, complete with revised prayer books, "modern" bible tranlations (can't wait to see the "postmodern" bibles) and all the rest. But, unlike some, I don't pretend for one minute that this repackaging effort somehow escapes being marketing. When you repackage an old product to appeal to a new audience, that's Marketing 101.
The important question is, when you do your marketing, are you telling the truth about your product or trying to make it look like something it isn't?
Rob Bell, who by all accounts is egalitarian, is pastor of what various observers say is the "the fastest growing church in America." He's certainly got a unique way of expressing the timeless message of the Gospel. And he's got a church of 10,000 that he started in 1999 in a gymnasium.
What many don't know is that gymnasium was pretty full the first Sunday. Somewhere between 700 to 1,000 people were there from the get-go. That's more people than a lot of pastors ever see come through a church in its entire existence (the great majority of U.S. churches number 100 or less).
Many of those attending that first Sunday apparently knew him well. He had helped oversee their spiritual development for four to five years as a pastor on staff at Ed Dobson's nearby megachurch — something Bell neglected to mention in his account of his church plant in his new book Velvet Elvis. Hmmmmmm.
Wouldn't want to take anything away from what he's done or doing, but ... you've got a better shot at 10,000 when you start with 1,000 than the emergent folks meeting in someone's living room.
What's troubling about his story is that it sounds more amazing than it is. You get the image of this guy just kinda falling into ministry (his first formal ministry is a patched-together talk he gives at a retreat when the billed speaker didn't show), and then after he gets some encouragement and completes his seminary education, he goes to Grand Rapids and just wants to preach the Gospel and sort of watches this church spring up around him. He's as surprised by it as you are! "We had no idea how many people would show up that first Sunday." Yeah, but Rob, you probably had a fair idea. I mean, you had a very successful teaching ministry at one of the largest churches in the country for five years. Since everyone at Dobson's church knew for quite some time that you and "several other people" were going to go set up shop in that gym, how likely was it that you'd preach to a room full of empty chairs?
Don't get me wrong. I've seen some of his work, and he has a way of making the Gospel come alive. And truth is, there are a lot of pastors who could start with that 700-1,000 and walk away empty in five years. If you're into church growth, it's an amazing story even without the mythic implication of 0-10,000 in six years. I don't intend here to take anything away from what he's managed to do. It is remarkable. And I believe with all my heart that God's in it, too. But it does rob it of some of its mythic shock and awe when you find that Bell got to bypass, rather than find a way to overcome, those tough-to-get-past church growth plateaus (90, 125, 225 and 350) everyone used to write so much about.
Bell says he's not into church growth. The story that he refused to let his leadership team put up a sign outside the gym is, no doubt, true. Didn't have to. He says the church grew by word of mouth. Probably did. Several thousand mouths, apparently, assuming most adults at Dobson's church knew about the plans.
Bell's not into church growth, but his church plant is an almost by-the-book demonstration of classic church growth principles, developed and first taught, by the way, at Fuller Seminary, his spiritual alma mater.
Bell's not into marketing, either. Really? I happened to pick up his book off the rack at our church book room this morning and found it intriguing. I actually read his abbreviated account of his church's beginnings, which was why I Googled him this afternoon and came to find the above. There are, oh, 70-80 books, maybe, on the racks at church, and dozens of music tapes and other stuff. I'd just stepped in to sorta hide out, because it was that noisy period between services from which we ultra-introverts occasionally need a break. Why did that book catch my eye? Easy: It was smaller than the rest. Had a plain white cover and, in tiny type, running top-to-bottom near the upper right-hand corner, it said, simply Velvet Elvis. In a room full of flash, with authors names emblazoned bigger than book titles, it stood out like a beacon. "What's this about, I wonder?" I said as picked it up. I just hadta pick it up. That, my friends, is textbook good marketing. "In a crowded marketplace, differentiate your product." I'm not criticizing. You write a book, why? Presumably, because you want people to read it. It was good packaging. It did exactly what it was intended to do.
I have nothing against those who feel it is time to update or reinvent or rediscover the gospel. I guess I'll even live with the idea that Jesus had a "secret" message that we're just now unveiling. But this reinvention process is not new. Every generation has repackaged the faith to fit its present realities, complete with revised prayer books, "modern" bible tranlations (can't wait to see the "postmodern" bibles) and all the rest. But, unlike some, I don't pretend for one minute that this repackaging effort somehow escapes being marketing. When you repackage an old product to appeal to a new audience, that's Marketing 101.
The important question is, when you do your marketing, are you telling the truth about your product or trying to make it look like something it isn't?
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Fortress People & River People
It often seems like there are only two kinds of people: I call them fortress people and river people.
Fortress people, at their best, are conservative: They seek to preserve values, honor traditions, uphold their end of the Social Contract. They seek (and seek to preserve) formal education, and study a thing carefully in order to do it well. They set standards and think it's important to live up to them. They find peace and are most productive in times of stability. When something new is built, their prime concern is that it is built on a strong foundation, so it will last. They avoid error, respect authority, make long-range plans, keep their word. They like the idea that you can build a strong fortress in life (and not just materially), within which they, their families and their friends can be safe and productive. They want to bequeath that fortress to their children.
River people, by contrast, are (again, at their best) progressive: They value freedom, honor creativity, examine and critique the current social contract. They seek experince (the Great Teacher) and learn by doing, believing that even their mistakes have within them the seeds of wisdom. They know that rules sometimes must be broken if one is to do the right thing. They find purpose and are most effective in times of change. And when something new is built, their desire is that it meet a present need. They avoid rigidity, respect originality, adjust their plans as they go, keep their options open. They like that life is an adventure, that you can go witht he flow of it as if it were a great River (hence the name) and they believe that if they, their families and their friends just get out there in the water, they won't drown. Instead, experiments with a variety of swimming strokes will bring their own rewards and the River itself, somehow, will get them where they need to go. They want to teach their children how to swim ... even if it means swimming against the tide.
Question: Are you a fortress person or a river person?
Fortress people, at their best, are conservative: They seek to preserve values, honor traditions, uphold their end of the Social Contract. They seek (and seek to preserve) formal education, and study a thing carefully in order to do it well. They set standards and think it's important to live up to them. They find peace and are most productive in times of stability. When something new is built, their prime concern is that it is built on a strong foundation, so it will last. They avoid error, respect authority, make long-range plans, keep their word. They like the idea that you can build a strong fortress in life (and not just materially), within which they, their families and their friends can be safe and productive. They want to bequeath that fortress to their children.
River people, by contrast, are (again, at their best) progressive: They value freedom, honor creativity, examine and critique the current social contract. They seek experince (the Great Teacher) and learn by doing, believing that even their mistakes have within them the seeds of wisdom. They know that rules sometimes must be broken if one is to do the right thing. They find purpose and are most effective in times of change. And when something new is built, their desire is that it meet a present need. They avoid rigidity, respect originality, adjust their plans as they go, keep their options open. They like that life is an adventure, that you can go witht he flow of it as if it were a great River (hence the name) and they believe that if they, their families and their friends just get out there in the water, they won't drown. Instead, experiments with a variety of swimming strokes will bring their own rewards and the River itself, somehow, will get them where they need to go. They want to teach their children how to swim ... even if it means swimming against the tide.
Question: Are you a fortress person or a river person?
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Blessings & Cursings, Part II
OK, now I know the computer gods hate me.
Since last post, the computer gremlins followed me to work, and immediately went to work on my brand new Microsoft Word program on my beautiful, almost brand new MacBookPro. Yesterday afternoon and most of this morning, I couldn't key in Greek letter characters.
Who cares, you say?
As it happened, I was editing a magazine article submission written by a math brainiac in our industry who had peppered his written piece with equations. Greek letters all over the place — or at least there shoulda been. But when I opened the document, everywhere there should have been a beta or theta or epsilon, there was, instead, a little square.
Our IT guys, our art director and I spent about five man-hours yesterday and again this morning, searching "Help," restarting, rebooting, installing new fonts, re-installing old fonts, setting and re-setting preferences, re-installing software ... and scratching our heads. Late this morning, we finally came up with a work-around, but the mystery remains: Where the "Symbol" drop down says I should be able to insert a Greek character, I simply can't.
Turns out our art director can't do it on his Word program, either. Everyone else in our office — none of whom have any need whatsoever to insert Greek characters — can insert alphas, gammas and deltas in Word 'til the cows come home. But not us.
Our art director and I are looking for arcane charms and rituals with which to appease the capricious virtual deities. Suggestions welcome.
Since last post, the computer gremlins followed me to work, and immediately went to work on my brand new Microsoft Word program on my beautiful, almost brand new MacBookPro. Yesterday afternoon and most of this morning, I couldn't key in Greek letter characters.
Who cares, you say?
As it happened, I was editing a magazine article submission written by a math brainiac in our industry who had peppered his written piece with equations. Greek letters all over the place — or at least there shoulda been. But when I opened the document, everywhere there should have been a beta or theta or epsilon, there was, instead, a little square.
Our IT guys, our art director and I spent about five man-hours yesterday and again this morning, searching "Help," restarting, rebooting, installing new fonts, re-installing old fonts, setting and re-setting preferences, re-installing software ... and scratching our heads. Late this morning, we finally came up with a work-around, but the mystery remains: Where the "Symbol" drop down says I should be able to insert a Greek character, I simply can't.
Turns out our art director can't do it on his Word program, either. Everyone else in our office — none of whom have any need whatsoever to insert Greek characters — can insert alphas, gammas and deltas in Word 'til the cows come home. But not us.
Our art director and I are looking for arcane charms and rituals with which to appease the capricious virtual deities. Suggestions welcome.
Sunday, January 21, 2007
DSL Modems: Blessings & Cursings
I have a great deal of sympathy for customer service people, because they have to deal with people like me.
Especially the folks who sell and maintain Internet-related services. They are patient, enlessly kind, and willing ot explain things but ... too often, I just don't get it.
I do okay if they can tell me something practical to do ("Okay, Mike, now click on "Preferences" — its up in the upper left hand corner ... that's it. Good. You're doing great!"), I can handle that. But when they try to explain to me how things work (or lately, why things aren't working) I'm clueless. My friend Ted tried to explain to me how the Internet works yesterday, and I nodded along with him, because I understood the words he was saying, but the words did not conjure up an image that I could import into my knowledge file. After all these years, the whole deal is still a mystery to me. And no amount of experience with it nor the many conversations I've had with techies talking about it has improved my lot.
Today was no exception. This afternoon, I was trying to find out why I could receive e-mail, but couldn't send it. I installed my new DSL Modem Friday night and was initiated into the world of high-speed access with the help of a very nice fellow from Qwest who talked me through it like a pro (he was the pro, not me). We got everything all hooked up and — WOW — everything seemed to work. And gloriosky, was it fast! While he was on the line with me, I opened my browser and quickly found a couple of my favorite spots. I opened my e-mail program and right away, several e-mails dowloaded. Ah, that works, too! Delighted, I thanked the tech guy, hung up and whiled away a couple of hours traveling the world on Google Earth.
Woke up yesterday, nothing worked. I ended up having to restart my computer and then unplug and then replug the DSL Modem to get things going again. Once it was up, everything seemed to work. I decided to post on my blog again after a long absense, in part because I wouldn't have to wait so #$%&@ long for the old dial-up access to work. So I happily composed a post, put it up and composed an e-mail to everyone I know saying "I"m back" and ... I couldn't send the e-mail. It wouldn't go. It tried, then told me it couldn't do it.
After a long talk with the a techie at Qwest and then a techie at my ISP (a weekender, who couldn't figure it out and will have to have one of the regular 9-to-5 techies call me Monday) I was told I could send e-mail from ny ISP's WebMail feature. I, of course, did not know my ISP had a WebMail feature. So she graciously introduced me to it, and I was finally able to get off an announcement that you could find me here again.
I do feel a little better: Today, neither of the techies I talked to could figure out why it wasn't working. It shoulda. It coulda. I just didn't. And they can't tell me why. So I don't feel quite so dumb.
But I am getting a little niggling bit of paranoia. So far, the only things me and my techie phone pals could figure out to do about my DSL problems has been restart or unplug/replug. In fact, when you call in to talk to a techie on the DSL service line, they even have a recorded announcment suggesting that you unplug your modem and the plug it back in before you talk to the techie, with the assurance that "many times, this takes care of the problem." They don't even know what your problem is yet. Just unplug, replug. It all starts to sound like some strange ritual, performed to appease a capricious virtual god.
Maybe I don't want to know how the thing works, yo?
Especially the folks who sell and maintain Internet-related services. They are patient, enlessly kind, and willing ot explain things but ... too often, I just don't get it.
I do okay if they can tell me something practical to do ("Okay, Mike, now click on "Preferences" — its up in the upper left hand corner ... that's it. Good. You're doing great!"), I can handle that. But when they try to explain to me how things work (or lately, why things aren't working) I'm clueless. My friend Ted tried to explain to me how the Internet works yesterday, and I nodded along with him, because I understood the words he was saying, but the words did not conjure up an image that I could import into my knowledge file. After all these years, the whole deal is still a mystery to me. And no amount of experience with it nor the many conversations I've had with techies talking about it has improved my lot.
Today was no exception. This afternoon, I was trying to find out why I could receive e-mail, but couldn't send it. I installed my new DSL Modem Friday night and was initiated into the world of high-speed access with the help of a very nice fellow from Qwest who talked me through it like a pro (he was the pro, not me). We got everything all hooked up and — WOW — everything seemed to work. And gloriosky, was it fast! While he was on the line with me, I opened my browser and quickly found a couple of my favorite spots. I opened my e-mail program and right away, several e-mails dowloaded. Ah, that works, too! Delighted, I thanked the tech guy, hung up and whiled away a couple of hours traveling the world on Google Earth.
Woke up yesterday, nothing worked. I ended up having to restart my computer and then unplug and then replug the DSL Modem to get things going again. Once it was up, everything seemed to work. I decided to post on my blog again after a long absense, in part because I wouldn't have to wait so #$%&@ long for the old dial-up access to work. So I happily composed a post, put it up and composed an e-mail to everyone I know saying "I"m back" and ... I couldn't send the e-mail. It wouldn't go. It tried, then told me it couldn't do it.
After a long talk with the a techie at Qwest and then a techie at my ISP (a weekender, who couldn't figure it out and will have to have one of the regular 9-to-5 techies call me Monday) I was told I could send e-mail from ny ISP's WebMail feature. I, of course, did not know my ISP had a WebMail feature. So she graciously introduced me to it, and I was finally able to get off an announcement that you could find me here again.
I do feel a little better: Today, neither of the techies I talked to could figure out why it wasn't working. It shoulda. It coulda. I just didn't. And they can't tell me why. So I don't feel quite so dumb.
But I am getting a little niggling bit of paranoia. So far, the only things me and my techie phone pals could figure out to do about my DSL problems has been restart or unplug/replug. In fact, when you call in to talk to a techie on the DSL service line, they even have a recorded announcment suggesting that you unplug your modem and the plug it back in before you talk to the techie, with the assurance that "many times, this takes care of the problem." They don't even know what your problem is yet. Just unplug, replug. It all starts to sound like some strange ritual, performed to appease a capricious virtual god.
Maybe I don't want to know how the thing works, yo?
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Emerging from the Monastery
That's a metaphor. I haven't been wearing a robe and shaving a bald spot on the back of my head.
But I have emerged from a somewhat monastic sabbatical from "public" life. My retreat was imposed, in part, by several circumstances of my private life. But I found the exile useful and continued in it for a time by choice when life circumstances no longer required it.
Why the retreat?
First, blogging had become a burden. Too much "look at me" had crept in. I don't for one minute think I've escaped that. But now I think I let it scare me away from something I was meant to do: write. The looky-me serpent is always going to be there, looking to derail and sidetrack me. But now I'm thinking: Better to stare it down, and get on.
Second, I worried that I had nothing to add, really, to the conversation (in the blogosphere or anywhere else, for that matter). And when that wasn't niggling in my brain, I worried that I would add my two cents only to find myself suddenly out of step with people who I'd very much like to walk alongside. Both of these worries persist, but neither justifies silence. Again, better to stare it down, and get on.
Third, despite the insupportable motivations for escaping, I found leave-taking a refreshing experience. I not only stopped blogging, I backed away from several other activities (church-related and otherwise), declined to accept several invitations to participate in several others, and those few in which I continued, I cut back, so they occupied less of my time.
For the first time in years, I spent many hours at a stretch in solitary activities: One was mourning. Old losses and new. An important task I had been putting off. Another was learning to truly enjoy my own company. I walked. I read. I indulged my for movies, I even began experimental cooking again (something I've rarely time and inclination for). I also spent time thinking without feeling the need the need to talk about it or explain it or blog it and worry whether or not I was making an idiot of myself. I really needed that. And I got to where I really liked the quiet and solitude.
As a result, my stress level (which I hadn't thought was so high) abated significantly, and in the calm, I realized it had been quite high indeed.
It wasn't all peace and contentment, however. Since my last post, I have been hospitalized (Thanksgiving Day!) with blood clots on the lungs, a condition from which I am recovering. That was a shocker. On the other hand the three days I spent in the hospital after the inital shock were among the most freeing — and healing — of my sabbatical period. I had no computer, no responsibilities, nowhere to go and had the best excuse in the world to opt out altogether for a long weekend and let others take care of the world! I think it was a God thing.
Sometimes we just need to stop, if only to figure out where we are, where we've been and where God might be leading. So I did.
In the last couple of weeks, I've found myself writing post-like comments in e-mails to others and on other's blogs. I realized that it was time to emerge from exile and start again.
But I have emerged from a somewhat monastic sabbatical from "public" life. My retreat was imposed, in part, by several circumstances of my private life. But I found the exile useful and continued in it for a time by choice when life circumstances no longer required it.
Why the retreat?
First, blogging had become a burden. Too much "look at me" had crept in. I don't for one minute think I've escaped that. But now I think I let it scare me away from something I was meant to do: write. The looky-me serpent is always going to be there, looking to derail and sidetrack me. But now I'm thinking: Better to stare it down, and get on.
Second, I worried that I had nothing to add, really, to the conversation (in the blogosphere or anywhere else, for that matter). And when that wasn't niggling in my brain, I worried that I would add my two cents only to find myself suddenly out of step with people who I'd very much like to walk alongside. Both of these worries persist, but neither justifies silence. Again, better to stare it down, and get on.
Third, despite the insupportable motivations for escaping, I found leave-taking a refreshing experience. I not only stopped blogging, I backed away from several other activities (church-related and otherwise), declined to accept several invitations to participate in several others, and those few in which I continued, I cut back, so they occupied less of my time.
For the first time in years, I spent many hours at a stretch in solitary activities: One was mourning. Old losses and new. An important task I had been putting off. Another was learning to truly enjoy my own company. I walked. I read. I indulged my for movies, I even began experimental cooking again (something I've rarely time and inclination for). I also spent time thinking without feeling the need the need to talk about it or explain it or blog it and worry whether or not I was making an idiot of myself. I really needed that. And I got to where I really liked the quiet and solitude.
As a result, my stress level (which I hadn't thought was so high) abated significantly, and in the calm, I realized it had been quite high indeed.
It wasn't all peace and contentment, however. Since my last post, I have been hospitalized (Thanksgiving Day!) with blood clots on the lungs, a condition from which I am recovering. That was a shocker. On the other hand the three days I spent in the hospital after the inital shock were among the most freeing — and healing — of my sabbatical period. I had no computer, no responsibilities, nowhere to go and had the best excuse in the world to opt out altogether for a long weekend and let others take care of the world! I think it was a God thing.
Sometimes we just need to stop, if only to figure out where we are, where we've been and where God might be leading. So I did.
In the last couple of weeks, I've found myself writing post-like comments in e-mails to others and on other's blogs. I realized that it was time to emerge from exile and start again.
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