The Midwest

Today I visited Pocahontas, currently located in Arkansas. Didn't you know? Pocahontas is a town of 1,248 people. It says so on the small green sign standing proudly beside the only paved road in town. I drove into town in my rental car, rolling my eyes and sighing about what a ridiculous culture I would soon be dealing with. I often make fun of the Midwest because it is so easy to do so, but honestly, it is even easier to be jealous of it.

Being an avid “find the best deal online first” consumer, I was discouraged to drive past the only hotels in town, which were still advertising color T.V. and HBO. I considered that this probably wasn't a feature I was going to find under the “accommodations” section of Hotels.com. They probably don't pricematch, either. I imagine that the term “mom and pop” shop has never been used here because, well, what else is there? Oh yeah, Wal-mart, but only in the big city.

Shortly thereafter I started to drive through the neighborhoods. Naturally, I fake wondering about their property prices, while smiling coolly about the fact that I could probably afford any mortgage in town. Heck, I could probably afford two, especially if the houses are like those. It was just then that both sides of the road cleared out into soft cut grass and caught my attention. And then I saw it. A house. No, a mansion. Or, maybe even an estate! No, MY house, and an instant daydream. I can see it all now, Mr. Toad. I pull up to the four white pillars in whatever motorcar I drive. I invite my friends over to go fishing on my boat around my lake surrounded by my land behind my stainless steel brick barbecue. I write books to make extra cash, but I mostly live off of my earlier investments, whatever those may be, but I'm sure they're not important. You know, I really wouldn't mind living here. The red brick buildings surrounded by naturally healthy green trees reminded me of those more traditional and well-earned Christmases. I guess some quirks are really quite perks.

But there are some more serious quirks too. Every town I passed through on the way to Pocahontas (including Bald Knob, Newport, and Alicia with a population of 145 posted) had no shortage of churches. Small steeples, square buildings, and simple landscapes featuring Christian quotes on billboards seem to grow better in this climate than anywhere in the world. Unfortunately, so do cemeteries. In every town I went through, right next to the main (or only) road in town, one could see the town cemetery. But these cemeteries were noticeably different from ones I normally see because each headstone seemed to have a twin right next to it. In other words, rarely did I see a headstone by itself. Husbands and wives, mothers and fathers, kin and kin, cuddled and cozy. Pretty cute, pretty cute.

It is also clear to me that the Southern Baptists have clearly won the “We Have The Most Money” award. The cute Methodist one-story, the Pentecostal former dentists' office, and the non-denominational single-family home can all fit easily under the noon-time shadow of the local Southern Baptist church. Of course, the buildings also serve as the church campus, college, community center, and anything else beginning with the letter “C,” but we know what they really mean. Our congregation tithes, your doesn't, we've won. I kid, I kid.

So, while I don't understand how the roots of this culture could develop a Clinton, I wouldn't mind witnessing the goings-on here firsthand. I'd love to find a hot Midwestern wife, even if she had to be Southern Baptist. And despite my subtle appreciation of the styrofoam-packed poultry at Costco, I would absolutely love to know a local butcher.

My Room

Let me tell you a little bit about my room. My room is not a place anyone wants to show to guests who visit the house. My laundry basket was overrun a long time ago. There are at least six loads of laundry pouring out of my closet door by now. There is a trail of cleared carpeting leading from my door to my desk chair to my bed. Without this trail one would have good reason to doubt that the room has any carpeting at all. Behind the laundry sits two dusty guitars that still get played, just not polished. I do not wish to know what horticulture experiment is growing between the many sets of socks, jeans, t-shirts, and the carpet below. The closet door remains jammed open due to this mountain of decomposing cotton and polyester. That one corner of the room alone could probably make the most experienced maid blush and faint.

On my bed are two blankets which, as far as I can remember, have never covered all four corners of the bed at the same time. They lay loose next to two pillows with unmatched pillow cases. The sheets get washed about once every other month because, like some children, I enjoy that “broken in” smell over the fresh “ocean breeze” scent of laundry detergent. I prefer settling into my slightly unkempt sheets at the end of my day like I would a beer over wine.

Books are littered around my room like confetti after a wedding. Yesterday I found a book between my mattress and the box spring, though I never meant to hide it. Journals that I have kept since 1992 make up one-quarter of the remaining books on the shelf above my desk. I have a cook book sitting on top of my last oil change receipt next to the speaker for my computer that hasn’t been moved since I set it there last year. Coke cans, coffee cups, and plastic spoons lay two feet away from the inside of my trash can. And, as unlikely as it sounds, my trash can is filled with nothing but a trash bag.

Sometimes I feel like a rat living in a hole with bottle caps and old food lying around, but this is a rare feeling. I am rarely ashamed of my room because, believe it or not, this is my sanctuary. The light blue ceiling that I painted with my own two hands reminds me of a clear upper sky. The walls etched with white faux splatter on a blue-grey surface give me the impression that I am high and safe. On the walls hang gifts of artwork received from friends in remote countries, knives brought back from the highest mountain range in India, and a grey sweater signed by every student I taught in my first classroom.

Even though my mother would be terribly disgusted, as would any potential girlfriend, I get a strange sense of relief that my room is repulsive to others. Without me saying a word, it lets people know that they’re not welcome unless they receive a special invitation. I can retreat to my room on any day, at any time, under any circumstance and trust that I will be unbothered.

The exposed trail of carpet snaking along the floor is my trail. I have traveled it many times. It is the easiest path for me to walk and the most difficult for others. Surrounded by empty gum wrappers and a web of wires tickling my feet I have remembered by best moments in life. And, I am recalling one of them to you right now on this dusty, worn keyboard.

So, if I happen to meet a special girl one day who actually sees my room from the hallway and predicts a future with a messy houseguest, she may be right. But until she sees the room from the inside, walks my trail, pushes the shoes out of the way and closes the door, she won’t have a clue about me. It is not clean, but it is safe. Everything is provided, just not on shelves or in drawers. This mess is my nest. I have no problem cleaning my room, but I do not wish to substitute a clean room for a home. I do not refuse to please someone by cleaning it, just not everyone. My room is a testimony of my sincerity. And I hope the few who know me can gauge my character by my personal lifestyle, not by my personal hygiene.

The Importance of Listening

I read a book a few years ago that changed my perspective on every relationship and friendship I’ve ever had and will ever have. The book is called The Lost Art of Listening. It’s a deadly accurate and well-written instruction on how to listen. I never thought listening was important enough to write a book about. I was wrong, dead wrong. I’ll summarize what I can:

In common practice, listening is usually the time spent during a conversation when we either reflect on our own part of a story, start constructing a reply, or prepare some insight for advice. We listen so that we can respond, because we believe we are expected to. If someone calls us for help, we listen so that we might figure out how to can help. If someone speaks in anger or frustration, we listen defensively or we withdraw. In other words, we react when we listen. We do not know how to listen objectively. We listen with reactionary and lazy minds. We do not empathize. In short, we do not realize the importance of simply and actively listening to each other.

Ironically, I wasn’t inspired to read this book until I realized I get really annoyed when people are not listening to me. I thought, “Hey, maybe this will teach me how to get people to understand me.” People can always tell when you’re not listening: shifty eyes, easily distracted, interruptions, spacing out, call waiting, etc. I know you can relate to this. Ever talk to a loved one about some difficulty you were having? Have they ever responded with, “I don’t know what to tell you,” “Try harder,” or “I can’t really relate?” I don’t know of anyone who talks about their difficulties solely so they can get advice, be told to work harder, or wanted someone to tell their own story. In fact, this response only leads the speaker to feel isolated, neglected, or even abandoned at times. Is it any wonder why one of the leading complaints in relationships is that one partner feels the other is not listening to them or their needs?

What do you need to start listening effectively? There are really only two goals: the first is to attain knowledge from the speaker, and the second is to be completely available to the speaker. When attaining knowledge, it is important to understand the difference between what is being said and what is meant.

For example, if someone is speaking in frustration or anger, does that mean they are angry with you? A good question to ask yourself in this situation is this: do they want to vent or do they want advice? Listen to their intent so that you’ll know how to listen to what is being said. “Dang, I was driving to work, I was in a hurry, and THREE DIFFERENT CARS cut me off!” Put yourself in their shoes. Do they want advice? Probably not, the situation is over. Do they want to vent? Yeah, probably. So now, you can begin to empathize by exploring their perspective.

Observe their body language when speaking, tone, emphasis on emotions or events, repetition. Then, keep the conversation going by encouraging them to talk about those things. “You sound understandably upset, did you get to work late?” “How did you react to them?” “Was everything going okay before they cut you off?” “How did the rest of the day go for you?” Put yourself in their situation. Find out how deep their thoughts/feelings go. Don’t be surprised if they move to a different topic or event. Be available enough for them to fill your head with their perspective. Follow them in their feelings/thoughts/stories, let them guide you into each one. Emotional topics are hard to effectively listen to, because you need to transcend into their world and the suspension of your needs is complete. But, in order to listen effectively, you must be completely available to the speaker. You are theirs. Once they stop or pause in conversation, simply encourage them to give you more knowledge about their feelings/thoughts by asking insightful knowledge-seeking questions or simply saying, “Tell me more.” Do not turn the conversation to yourself. Good listening really does take more effort than it does to speak.

In contrast, how does it feel when you are truly listened to? Important. Cared about. Understood. How would you feel if someone effectively listened to you talk about whatever you wanted? What if, after you went off for a while, they said, “I enjoyed listening to you, but keep going! I want to hear more!” Loved. “What is your opinion about…?” “I’d like to hear your thoughts on….” Respected. When you truly listen to people, you treat them like a blessing, not a burden. It is clear when someone is and is not listening to you. It is unbelievably important.

Christianese

I’ve been having a problem talking with some of my Christian friends lately. For the first time in my life, I’ve been away from the Christian community for quite a few months and I’ve had a problem returning to it. Part of the problem is that I no longer completely understand Christianese. I don’t quite understand how Christianese ever started, but I regret that it did, and that’s not really the point anyway. I think very few Christians understand how difficult it is to bond with someone spiritually who uses this language. I want to explain what I mean by that.

Try to have a conversation with someone who speaks Christianese and you’ll usually hear the following phrases: “I have a passion for…” “I am blessed because…” “I have a heart for…” “I feel led to…” “I feel like God desires…” “My vision for…” “As Christians, I think we should…” “I have a lot of compassion for…” “What would Jesus do?” “I’ve prayed about it and…” “We should really seek God’s passion/vision for…”

In the examples above, the most common words used are passion, vision, desire, seek, feel, led, blessed, and heart. Rarely do those words occur in the English language in normal, every day life. In normal conversation, people who hear these words are not only forced to pause so that they can remember their meaning, but they also must understand the symbolism in context. For example, if I said “I have a heart for the poor,” native Christianese speakers would understand that I want to help the homeless. But our culture does not commonly use “have a heart” as a substitute for “want.” I understand that there is a deeper meaning in the term “have a heart,” but our common language is not without its deep meanings either. What if I said, “I have a heart for paying taxes,” “I have a heart to eat healthy,” or “I have a heart for not cussing?” Are these not still duties we can do as Christians? It would not only sound strange to say these things, but it would also put us at an unnecessary distance from our listeners.

This distance not only occurs between Christian and non, but also between Christians themselves. If you notice, the use of Christianese is considerably decreased between close friends and private conversations. It is possible that this is due to the dropping of social facades or fears, which might also be the reason Christianese is used in the first place. Honestly, I do not know. However, I can imagine myself speaking in vague, interpretive Christianese to get myself out of a conflict. “It’s not that I disagree with what you’re saying, it’s just that I feel like God desires me to have a passion for seeking his vision and purpose rather than doing what you say.” I know this works because I have used it many times before to avoid conflict.

An unintended, or sometimes intended, result of speaking Christianese is to avoid speaking frankly or honestly. It’s pretty lame, actually. If there were a Miss Christian America pageant, I could imagine the winner saying something like, “I have always desired to seek God’s face and pray for Him to change my heart so that I can be used to pursue His vision for the world.” In other words, “World peace.”

Anyway, I am trying to change my language such that every Christianese word that I use can be easily translated. I use the words “want,” “like,” “enjoy,” “love,” “hope,” and “happy” as much as possible now. To quote C.S. Lewis, “Nature never taught me that there exists a God of glory and of infinite majesty. I had to learn that in other ways. But nature gave the word glory a meaning for me. I still don't know where else I could have found one.” Perhaps we should not be inventing meanings for obscure words, but we should be using common, secular, and comprehensible language to describe our most intimate relationship. At the very least, I could start to understand my friends again, and they could begin to understand me. God knows I have a heart for it.

Judgmentals vs. Bad Christians

I talked with a friend today who spoke honestly and made perfectly good sense, though I disagreed with him. He told me that he is a Christian but does not often make that fact known to people because he is such a bad Christian. He said he doesn't want to be a bad witness. He thought the Bible backed him up on this, I didn't really know either way, but nevertheless I thought his efforts were good intentioned.

What could drive a person to deny their Christianity? My first guess would have to be the amount of pressure and judgment that comes from Christian communities to conform to Christian values and behaviors. I do not mean to generalize all Christian communities. However, I do know from experience that there are those few Judgmentals who conceal themselves within such communities only to drive people away at times when they are most vulnerable.

I am not innocent of being judgmental either. There are many stages of my life when I have been full of arrogance and pride such that practically nothing could escape my critique. So, I sympathize with the Judges. However, when I am on the receiving end of their narrow-minded “observations,” I get severely hurt by them. There is no love in judgment, no matter how nicely someone words it. And no matter how Biblical the critique, when the speaker does not listen and understand to whom he is speaking, then his truthful words turn to mere insults of character.

I wonder if this is why my friend has chosen to not bring shame on Christianity by denying his part in it. Perhaps he has had the “truth” spoken to him too many times, rather than others listening to the truth about him. As such, it makes perfectly good sense that a good person would deny their Christian faith to save the face of those who so strongly protect it. In reality, I fear that my friend is only protecting the pride of those Judgmentals who drove him away (“spoke the truth”) in the first place.

In either case, I think my friend points out a helpful flaw in Christian culture. We need to accept those who are less than perfect as though they are in fact perfect. We should not fake or conceal their imperfection either. Rather, we should embrace the person, as though they were family and had nothing to prove by their behavior or values. We should be freeing each other by listening rather than speaking and believing in each other rather than allowing the Judgmentals to win.

I would feel much better about being a Christian if this were true of my community.

My Ideal Community

I want to describe my ideal community. It is pretty much entirely imaginary, so bear with me if you can. I hope it doesn't sound too childish.

My ideal community is full of people who are risky. They are not careless or reckless, but they can throw caution to the wind if they so desire. If somone in the community is down, sick or lonely or otherwise hurting, they are sincerely responsive. No one is really alone unless they want to be, so no one every feels lonely. People takes risks for each other. They act out in service, as though they are taking care of one of their own family. For example, friends could call each other in the middle of the night and, despite having a wife or work tomorrow, they would come over and be company. In fact, some people even look forward to getting such calls.

Pity is not shown, but tenderness is, so there is no disrespect or condescention. The skill of listening is one of the highest personal achievements. People in this community know how important it is to be listened to and understood, so they put effort into making sure they listen to each other. No shallow "I'm sorry to hear that" phrases or other insincere remarks. Yup, they actually care, and they show it.

I imagine this would be a small community. As in most small towns, everyone knows each other. But in this community it is different. Everyone actually knows each other, because they've taken the time to listen and understand each other. The weaknesses and strengths of the community are clear because of how freely communication flows. I told you they were risky. :)

For some reason I can't explain, because this is my imagination, I think this community deals with a lot of danger. There is always some outside threat to the community. This makes for a strong sense of loyalty with each other. It is important that they are in such a perilous situation. Without the danger, the communication and loyalty would be much less important and probably wouldn't even be there at all.

Hm, doesn't sound like America does it? Well, maybe after 9/11. But, it doesn't sound like any "civilized" places that I know of. When I reflect on this imagination, I wonder if I'm not supposed to live in a harsher environment than San Diego, California. I think the people that have the potential to be in this community exist here, but I don't think the actual community does. There are some good people here, but there aren't too many good communities. At least, I haven't found them yet. I hope I find a community like this. I'm sure it will be different than I imagine it, but I hope I keep my imagination vague enough for the details to fit in.

Cheers,
Benjamin

A Conservative Rant

I am a gun-totting lifetime NRA member. I am a single white male. I am a Christian. I am your stereotypical right-wing conservative. I am actually quite shy and quiet. But, I listen to Rush Limbaugh and read Ann Coulter articles. I smoke cigars and get an unusual sense of relief watching Fox News. I have never smoked pot. I am pro-life and I will never vote for a candidate who isn't. I love and strongly believe in America, traditional values, the Constitution, and the Founding Fathers; and I consider that love to be reasonable, not blind or narrow-minded.

I am disgusted with Hollywood for their political influence, and I loathe those in my 20-something generation that have bought into the liberal bias of university professors and the media. I love the military, not just because they're doing what they think is right, but because they are Americans fighting in a long historic battle to maintain American freedom.

I think every U.S. citizen should own a gun and know how to use it. Every child should learn to work with their hands and learn what humans are capable of. I believe every parent should teach their child how to use a weapon when needed, how to stay married, how to stick up for what's right, and how to apologize and take responsibility.

I think the movements against "intolerance" and "hate" are the bullshit leftovers of hippie propaganda. I think we need a little more intolerance and a lot more hate, and we need a hell of a lot more common sense than both of those combined. I think the confederate flag still deserves honor and respect because it stood for more than just slavery. I think a country ruled by its citizens should have nuclear weapons, while dictatorships should not.

I think those who want to protect "Mother Nature" will have a hard time defending it from people like me and from human influence, change, and evolution. I shoot deer and donate more money to animal and habitat protection agencies than every liberal I know. I trust corporate America more than PETA, the NAACP, and the ACLU combined.

I believe in gender roles: men are supposed to do certain tasks, women are supposed to do others. I think men are oppressed in this country. I think feminism started because women have a harder time acting as counterparts than men do. I believe women have a harder time submitting to men than men have in submitting to women. Feminists not only ignore this fact, they snub at it so as to ignore further maturity and responsibility as respectable female citizens.
I hope I frustrate every loud-mouthed liberal. I will probably never be seen on television. Never be seen in a picket-line. Never teach on a college campus. I'll probably never even convert a liberal. Nobody will probably ever think exactly like I do.

But, come November 2008, I WILL VOTE. And if I have it my way, Iraq will be the next Germany, the Middle East the next Europe, and we'll be competing with both with our Alaskan oil.

The time for honoring yourself will soon be at an end

It's nearing midnight, but I can't sleep. So, I thought I'd blog about something I was reminded of at church this past Sunday.

This deep thought came during worship, which seems to be the way these thoughts come to me. Most worship songs have something in them about "exalting" God or lifting Him up or something to that effect. Well, whenever I've been away for a long time, I get reminded of why "exalting" is so important. There's something about exalting or honoring or glorifying God that just strikes deep with who I am. Do you ever get that too?

I think that when I'm away for a while I start to just naturally honor or "glorify" myself. Usually it starts with just a self-esteem or loneliness thing, but it ends up being something I'm really wanting for myself. I really can daydream with the best of 'em. I always wanted to be some kind of hero/savior/idol of someone or something. In at least half of the movies I watch I imagine myself in one of the better roles. I even imagine my friends or the people I know seeing me doing some absolutely brilliant thing and be utterly shocked that I could do such a thing.

That's how I am when I'm not worshipping. But when I'm worshipping, or even at least around worship, I get the most distinct impression that I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. It's like I'm exactly where I am needed and where I belong, like I SHOULDN'T be doing anything more. It feels so damn good. I don't feel the pressure of needing to be better or earn my praise or wanting to belong.

What's even more weird, and in the more intense times, is when I get the impression that God is thoroughly pleased with me when I'm there. It's like I'm doing EVERYTHING right. It's ridiculously comforting, much more than I can say in words. I really wish I could feel that way all the time, but like I said, I just tend to try to honor myself when I'm not around true worship.

So, throughout the week I'll continue to daydream, watch movies, listen to music and hope that one day I'll be the world's best guitar playing singing comedian who knows jujitsu and can decipher the world's most complex problems. But, maybe next Sunday I'll get more relief from that crap.

Being Single

Let me first say that being single is a blessing from God and can be much worse that we make it. And secondly, being single is one of the hardest challenges anyone can face. I’ve come to realize that there are many others in my boat, erhm… we’re in our own boats, but at least we’re floating adrift on the same ocean. And in spite of hearing about how many nice fish there are in the sea, we can’t help but feel lonely.

So, without going into too much depressing detail, here’s three rather unhealthy single thoughts I’ve had in the past few weeks:

“What the hell is wrong with me?” – The ol’ insecurity loophole. Relationship challenged? Issues? Hair? Car? :) Often disguised as genuine reflection, this statement comes in various perspectives and flavors, all sticky with self-pity. The only thing missing is the feeling of being loved by another, but when no one is there, we try to solve the problem ourselves by asking ourselves this question. Shrinks call this “bargaining.” When the cause of the pain is still up for debate, we don’t have to feel it quite as much.

“Why did I break up with my last girlfriend?” – Sure, now you ask. You didn’t count on this, didja? Once I had someone who made me feel better, but now that she’s gone, I don’t feel as good anymore. For some reason, my memory gets very clouded when this thought comes. On two occasions I’ve gone back to the old girlfriend, which instantly cured the memory problem of why we were no longer together. Either that, or she was with someone else. In either case, escaping this trap requires performing one of the most difficult virtues: remembering the truth.

“How do I get the type of wife my friends have?” It sounds bad, I know. I’m not scoping out my friends’ wives. I’m jealous of the relationship they have. Notice, I went right to “wife” not “girlfriend.” Because, ah ha!, I want the life partner, not a hopeful. I’ve already thought about the type of girl I want to end up with, all I need to do is find her. And despite everyone telling me it’s “God timing,” (funny how the people who say that are MARRIED), I can’t help but feel somewhat neglected. And that’s really all it is. There really isn’t anything to figure out. No magical method. No need for extra charm or sweet smelly stuff. Sort of like looking for a treasure without a map, you should probably keep looking for the treasure rather than start looking for the map.

The hardest thing about being single for me is being around Marrieds. Don’t misunderstand, I love my friends. But Marrieds, especially new Marrieds, are ridiculous to talk to about being single. My favorite bit of advice from a Married is this: “You need to be content with singleness before you enter into marriage.” Bullshit. If this is true, why did you get married? Apparently they weren’t content with being single, either.

Anyway, that's my rant. Most times I enjoy myself as a bachelor. There's so much freedom! It's just that, occasionally, there's too much freedom.

I'm back

Hello internet, I'm back!
For those who don't know, I was in Army training for the past five months. There is very little to say about it now, except that I'm glad it's over. I came away with a few awards and many proud moments. And I'm glad it's over.

Since being back, it seems I have a lot of time on my hands. So, between job searching and playing xbox, I'll see if I can post something profound. I am truly happy to be back.