Truly Madly Deeply

Something very strange happened to me on Friday night.

Let me give you the proper lead-in.

On Thursday night, I was working (bartending) and it was a very slow night.  One person was sitting at my bar. Late in the evening, around 10:00 or so, a transgender woman came in with a growler to fill.  I've seen her around the neighborhood I live in.  Now, I consider myself to be a broad-minded, liberal person.  I use my votes to support gay rights, gay marriage, gay everything.  I swore off Chick-Fil-A.  I am devoted to watching RuPaul, and I've danced with gorgeous men at drag shows.

And yet I'm ashamed to say that I've laughed to myself when I've seen her walk by.  Hers is not a particularly convincing illusion of womanhood.  I wonder now why that should matter at all.

Let's say her name was Alice.  Alice was not what we might call beautiful.  Her hair was thin and wispy, and one eye wandered ever so slightly inward.  She wore very thick glasses and her forearms were too large for the lovely pink cardigan she wore.

I don't know when I've ever met anyone so lovely as Alice.  

She asked for a beer while she waited.  I poured it for her and filled her growler.  I gave her the bill, and she gave me her card.  Let's say the name on it was Adam.  Then I asked if I could get her anything else.  She had yet to try one of our house beers so she stayed and sampled a pint.

There was live music upstairs, and I had to deal with drunken barflies wandering down.

Alice finished her beer, and I asked if I could get her another.  She answered...

"I wouldn't hate you if you poured me a Russian River."

I love Russian River Brewery.  We had their Damnation beer on draft.  It's delicious, a creamy Belgian ale with lots of alcohol.

"I hope you don't have anywhere to be in the morning," I said.

"I don't," she answered.  It was fun, flirtatious.  We talked about beer, mostly.  Not much else.  I told her about meeting Vinnie and Natalie, who run Russian River.  We talked about the house-brewed beers, and her plans for the growler (long since filled).  Though I had seen her credit card, which betrayed and called her Adam, I asked her name.  Perhaps because I was looking for it, I saw a moment of hesitation, then the warm and brave pronouncement:  

"I'm Alice," she said.

We shook hands and chatted some more.  Nothing particularly important, or profound.  Just beer, really.  It was nice.  I liked it, and I felt self-satisfied.

"Hey everyone, come and see how open and loving I look."

Then it came time to close the bar and the encounter faded from my mind.

And then the next night, the strange thing.

I went home.  I picked up an Xbox controller and played Call of Duty.  In the midst of blasting my fellow man to smithereens, I remembered Alice.  Then I started to cry.  I'm not sure why, but I couldn't stop.  I started thinking about Alice's days.  Possibly full of uncomfortable stares.  Glares?  Empty, cruel laughs?  I don't know.

Maybe.

Probably.

Had she ever noticed them?  Almost certainly.

Had she ever noticed mine?

...

I'm sure that there are ways in which Alice's life is no harder than yours or mine.  I'm also sure that there are ways in which it is much harder.  And why is that, exactly?  I can't pretend to know, but I know it's not fair and I know it wasn't her choice.  Why on earth would someone choose to be mocked, belittled, reviled?

But if being outside the hetero-normative experience makes Alice's life inordinately hard, then I hope (so very profoundly) that her life is also inordinately rewarding.

I hope that she does work that she loves, and that it pays her more than enough to live on.

I hope that she has a family who is as loving and supportive as mine would be, if I'd been dealt her hand.

I hope she has someone who loves her.  Someone to fall into bed with, and wake up next to.  Someone to make her laugh, make her angry, make her proud.

I hope that she came into my bar late at night because she was in the company of beautiful and caring friends earlier that evening, not because she was afraid of being gawked at by the dinner crowd.

Most of all, I hope that I made her feel like she was special and beautiful.  In the moment I hoped for that so that I'd feel like I'd done an oh-so-good deed.  Now, I hope for it simply because Alice deserves it.  Because don't we all deserve it?

Two days later, thinking about Alice still makes me cry.  Maybe it always will, always should.  The thing I've realized is, I love Alice.  So deeply.  And what I'm wondering is, why does it take something out of the ordinary to make me love like that?  Why isn't that my initial response?

I don't know.  There's so much still to process.  Why this only occurred to me during Call of Duty, I may never know.  But I am so grateful that I suddenly saw her as Jesus sees her: spectacularly beautiful and worthy of love.

I do know that if you met Alice, and shared a growler with her, that you'd love her like I do.

Because you couldn't help yourself.

Because she's beautiful.

many fathers

for many, myself included, today is not a hallmark kind of day.  a piece i read on the relevant magazine website summed it up nicely:

"It wounded me deeply that my father was patently uninterested in me. It made me feel ugly, stupid and worthless. I entered adulthood clueless about what it meant to be a man. I pretty much just made it up as I went along. In many respects I’m still doing that today. Eventually I became a father myself; it’s not been easy figuring that out either. For many years I cringed when people referred to God as 'Father.' Inside I was thinking, 'Not interested!'

Oh yeah, I almost forgot, Happy Father’s Day!

Maybe it’s not so 'happy' for you. Perhaps you’re one of those people who will play the charade of giving a gift, sending a card, or making a phone call out of obligation or guilt. Maybe you carry deep wounds from your relationship (or lack thereof) with your father. Perhaps you’ve suffered from the disapproval, rejection, absence or abandonment of your father. Maybe you will try to drum up some positive demeanor toward your dad on Father’s Day even though you really feel nothing at all."

i've been through that whole spectrum of father's days.  and still, nearly two years after the last time my father spoke to me, i grieve the loss.  and although i have since realized that the man i miss never existed in the way that i used to see him, i still feel his absence keenly.

but rather than make today about what i do not have, what i have lost, i am choosing to focus on the ways in which God has made up for my dad's absence, specifically the outstanding mentors and steely-eyed missile men He has allowed me to encounter on my journey.

happy father's day to dr. john vitale, who has had a greater influence on who i am today than any man i know.  for giving me the gift of unfailingly wise counsel, and a love of ancient and sacred stories, wherever they may be.

happy father's day to mark swezey, who has given countless young people the gift of his passion for the theatre.  at first, i was frankly terrified of him.  but ten years later, i know him to have one of the biggest hearts of anyone i know.

happy father's day to alan shorter, one of the kindest people i have ever met.  although he has no children of his own, there are doubtless hundreds if not thousands who consider him family, as i do.

happy father's day to chamblee ferguson, who i wished was my own dad from the first moment i met him.

happy father's day to wayne wetzel, whose constantly smiling face and warm laugh make me feel at home no matter where i am.

happy father's day to jay nicholson, The Godfather, and inexplicably devout razorbacks fan (sorry jay, couldn't resist).  at every one of his daughter's weddings, i will raise a glass and offer up the words "...and may your first child be a masculine child."

happy father's day to george satterlee, the original iron man in every sense of the word.

happy father's day to rod hipp, proof that immeasurable strength and true gentleness can go hand in hand.

happy father's day to rick butin, tom busch, joe brown, and bob neihart, because being the father of a BDNA is every bit as impressive as being one yourself.

happy father's day to ned fleming, who, without a second thought, has done for me no less than what any man would do for his own children.  he showed me that an absent father will hold you down only if you let it.

happy father's day to paul engler, whose friendship is one of the greatest gifts i have ever received.  he is wise, he is funny, he is a man of so much integrity that his manute bol-like frame can barely contain it.  if you ever need to talk about life over a red stripe beer, he's your man.  and on a daily basis, he gives his two sons the greatest gift any father can give.  he loves their mother (an amazing woman in her own right), utterly selflessly.

happy father's day to harry brooks parker.  when i think about the foot we got off on, i can only laugh because today he is a man i would walk through fire for.  to be as good at his job as he is, and as good a father as he is, is nothing short of miraculous.  the world is big enough that i can imagine there must be someone who is as good at these things as harry is, but i cannot imagine that there is one who is better.

happy father's day to russell rice, who i can't really even talk about without getting teary-eyed.  during the worst and darkest days of my life, russell rice took me to fuzzy's tacos once a week for lunch where he gave me the gift of his wisdom, insight, and thirst for knowledge of God.  he was a life preserver, and remains proof of God's unfailing mercy in my life.

happy father's day to bob otsuka and todd arterburn, who i feel have been a part of our family forever.  they are wise, they are brave, they give without hesitation and without any thought of what they might receive in return.  and to top it all off, they are a whole hell of a lot of fun.

happy father's day to glenn forristall; the leader, protector, provider, and unapologetically tender heart of our mighty pack.  he lived the life of a salesman, but departed from arthur miller's script by creating his own happy ending.  he's not just liked, he's not even just well-liked, he is beloved and before it's all said and done, attention will be paid.  i love you, granddad.

these are all the poor words my very full heart can muster in praise of this remarkable collection of men.  i miss them all every day and carry the lessons i've learned from them everywhere i go.  i thank God for using them to help restore what was lost.

my father is gone, never to return.  nothing will ever replace that loss.  but how can i live in mourning when i think about these outstanding dads, husbands, and leaders among men who i am fortunate enough to call friends?  one by one, and each in his own way, they have picked me up, dusted me off, placed a hand firmly on my shoulder, and led me on.  where in the past i had only known opportunistic and self-serving love, they gave it to me unconditionally.

one day, i am sure my children will ask me about my father.  i will say to them, "my children, i am luckier than you.  for i have many fathers." 

choose this day whom you will serve

here's a thought...


"I am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: 'I’m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I don’t accept his claim to be God.'


That is the one thing we must not say. 


A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic — on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg — or else he would be the Devil of Hell. 


You must make your choice. 


Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse.


You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronising nonsense about his being a great human teacher.


He has not left that open to us.


He did not intend to."


-C.S. Lewis, Mere Christianity 1952 (emphases added)


i have more to say on this as it relates to the things i am wrestling with right now, but it'll have to wait.  hopefully not long but if my history as a blogger is any indication, don't hold your breath.




but as for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.

i am waiting for vizzini...

i haven't blogged since my first entry, and so to make up for it, we'll have one entry per day from now through christmas.  that should make up for months of inactivity, right?  on we go.

as a film geek, and a christian, i love seeing the imprint of the divine story on so many movies we know and love.  sometimes it's intended and sometimes it probably isn't, but there are countless stories we've seen since we were children that illustrate for us what it is to walk in faith.  here are some of my favorites, clips included.

the first clip is also the most recent.  it's from the latest harry potter movie, so any spiritual message must have been unintended because those books were written for witchcraft practicing heathens, right?  right.  all sarcasm aside, check it out.  i know it's super dark but i'm sure it was illegally recorded so just appreciate what we got.

i haven't generally cared much for these movies but this one was solid and this scene in particular stuck with me long after i left the movie theatre.  during this scene i was so overwhelmed because it sums up exactly how the enemy preys on us.  he takes our pre-existing conditions of fear and insecurity and exploits them, telling us we aren't good enough, aren't brave enough, are too sinful and shameful to be of any use.  how could the Almighty God do anything meaningful with our broken selves?  ron already felt inferior next to his friends, felt like he had nothing to offer to them or their quest and so the forces of evil took those feelings and manifested them in his mind's eye.  and yet when we cut through the lies, we see them for what they are.  smoke and mirrors.  no matter what mess we make of our lives, the perfection of God's plan is so powerful that it can overcome the biggest mistakes.  the Bible calls Satan the accuser of man.  he wants to point the finger at us, to feed our shame and use it to keep us distant from Christ's mercy because that is when sin rules in our lives, and not God.  we have to remember that forgiveness is never more than a prayer away, and that repentance is the blade that will destroy the enemy's lies.

this one is from lord of the rings: the return of the king.  sorry it won't embed, but the link is below.

put aside the ranger.

this is my perhaps favorite scene in the whole trilogy because of how perfectly it encapsulates aragorn's journey from ranger to king.  at the beginning of the story, he was a man who wanted to be ordinary, to get as far away as he could from his family's shameful past, his great grandfather who failed to destroy the one ring when he had the chance.  but he couldn't escape what he was called to become.  finally, there comes a time when he can no longer simply be a man.  he must choose to either risk defeat and the destruction of all that he believes in, or take the dimholt road and face his fears, his weaknesses, his darkest dreams.  but he doesn't have to go alone.  he is given a weapon, reforged from his ancestor's broken legacy, more powerful than any that came before it.  it's past weaknesses have become strengths.  it both empowers him and forces him to take the path that will lead him to his destiny.  finally, he has his two friends.  members of a splintered fellowship, uncertain of anything but what is directly ahead, they know only that they cannot abandon each other.

how many of us spend years in the wilderness, not because it was God's plan, but because it was ours?  we try to hide from our calling, fearing that it is too great for us, that we are not enough, too broken and sinful to ever live up to what God wants from us.  what we are forgetting is that God has equipped us with everything we need, and that He will continue to do so when we walk out in faith.

speaking of walking out in faith...

"only in the leap from the lion's head, shall he prove his worth."  as christians, i believe that this is what we must strive to do every moment of every day.  take the step that terrifies us, that seems to our eyes to lead only to sorrow and nothingness.  but once again, God is faithful.  He will not test us beyond what we can bear and knowing that we will not fall, He asks us to take the first step.  to walk out in faith, seeing nothing but trusting that He will not abandon us when we need Him most.  

i'm sure in that moment, Indy wondered why he didn't just stay home.  why he needed to take this journey and why he was now being asked to walk into the abyss.  but instead of turning around, he quieted his heart, mustered what little faith he could, and stepped out.  and because God is good, every step after the first one grows easier as we grow more and more confident that He is there for us.  but until we have the courage to leap from the lion's head, our faith remains insubstantial because we refuse to put it out on the line, to allow it to be tested.  

go to about the 3:45 mark on this one and watch luke make the decision that cements his place as the last true jedi knight.  

the emperor wants him to kill his own father and take his place, a place of power and authority where he will no longer be the scrappy, forgotten underdog.  but the cost is steep.  he must give in to his hate, to his pain, to his bitterness towards the father who not only abandoned him, but has pursued him and tried to kill him.  luke is tempted.  the years he spent in a boring life, craving something bigger weigh heavy on his mind.  the wounds, both physical and emotional from his father are deeply felt and rise to the surface. 

and then...

peace.

he knows he is called to greater things than what the emperor can offer him.  he remembers the words of his mentors, telling him to let go of everything he fears to lose, to forego anger and hate, to choose peace and self-sacrifice.  so he tosses his weapon aside, and says,

NEVER.

i'll never turn to the dark side.  you've failed, your highness.  i am a jedi, like my father before me.

the consequences are painful.  it is a choice that very nearly costs him his life.  yet in that moment, luke turns away from the easy answer, the primrose path, and walks out his calling.

bob feller, the great cleveland indians pitcher who died recently, said that what you need to succeed in this world is a father who believes in you.  i believe he was right, but i don't think he was talking about the kind of father i am.  some of us are blessed with an earthly father who believes in us.  i don't, and i'm sure many of you don't either.  for those of us who are not, we can never forget that we ALWAYS have our Heavenly Father who believes in us even at our weakest, most fearful, and most broken.

there is one last clip, and it's where the title of this post came from.  it's a little bit silly and the quality is terrible, but bear with me.  head to the :55 second mark.

yesterday i asked my mom what she wanted for christmas.  she sighed, and paused for a moment.  some answers are too big for the questions that elicit them.  justice, good fortune, a breakthrough blessing.  all valid wishes but they are tough to wrap up and stick under the tree.  she replied, "i am waiting for vizzini."  she went on to explain who she meant but i knew.  that's what happens when you come from a family of movie geeks.  i'll bet that at this time of year, a lot of us are waiting for vizzini.  it probably means something different for each of us, but the essence is the same.  

we are waiting for Heaven to reach down and touch .  we are waiting for His mighty right hand to brush aside our difficult circumstances, our heartbreak, and our despair.  we aren't waiting for vizzini, we are waiting for the Living God.  

but in the midst of all these things, we miss it.  it's already happened.  God gave us what we so dearly  needed, a bridge from us to Him.  and He gave it to us in the most precious wrapping paper there is: His only begotten son.  so this Christmas, i will strive to look beyond what i can see in the physical, visible realm and keep my eyes fixed on the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.  

and so i close with a tired old greeting card cliche (a nauseating rhyme, no less) and remind myself, and all of us, that THAT is the reason for the season.  now go watch some movies.

stay frosty, marines

when your children ask their fathers in time to come, saying, "what are these stones?" then you shall inform your children, saying, "israel crossed this jordan on dry ground."  for the Lord your God dried up the waters of the jordan before you until you had crossed, just as the Lord your God had done to the red sea, which He dried up before us until we had crossed; that all the peoples of the earth may know that the hand of the Lord is mighty, so that you may fear the Lord your God forever."

i've decided to start blogging again.  i guarantee it'll be infrequent at times, perhaps maddeningly so to any rabidly devoted fans who might materialize.  i apologize in advance.

i feel very strongly that this is a time in my life that needs to be documented.  just as God commanded the israelites to leave twelve stones on the banks of the jordan river, i want to memorialize the journey i am on right now.  not for vanity, but so that i can look back and see where i came from, or rather where i was delivered from.  in order to appreciate what it is to be brought to life, i must always remember what it was to have been a dead man.

something powerful is happening right now.  i don't know what it is or where it will lead, but i know what it means.

aslan is on the move.