Tagged: parenting
Day After A Solo Thanksgiving + Creed = Blog Post
At the end of the film Seven, Morgan Freeman’s character opens a box and declares, “John Doe has the upper hand.” That admission characterizes my experiences at the seminary thus far. I thought I knew.
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When learning about God, there are apparently many, though not infinite, key terms. Many of you know these. Omniscient, omnipresent, omnipotent, benevolent. Some people have thought they were really witty and thought they really proved something by asking if because of these attributes God can make an rock that is so heavy he cannot move it. H. Ray Dunning writes, “Both [Martin] Luther and [John] Calvin vigorously resist all speculation about God beyond what is revealed. Each, with a great deal of seriousness, tells the same anecdote about anyone who would raise a question about what God was doing before He created the world. The answer: He was making hell for curious people.”* Ell-Oh-Ell.
If I may indulge in my own assessment of the passing scene, it is that the Adversary, the great Satan himself, had a hand in creating Microsoft Powerpoint and the idea that preachers should use it. If there is one thing God, in the person of the Holy Ghost, cannot do, it is overcome the trappings of Microsoft Powerpoint presentations. Perhaps my belief stems from my indoctrination at the hands of the US Air Force which had me reciting “death by power-point” when describing what a Training Day would entail to new officers. Or perhaps it is historical reality. In either case, I have yet to see this supposed communication tool be employed without embarrassment in any situation, let alone one as dynamic as a sermon. To be clear, MS Powerpoint is simply a better way to pass around a picture. Put the image on the screen. Tell us to look at it. Then take the image down and move on. Publicly tying yourself to an outline is a sure way to detract from any possible benefits unseen forces–whether holy or unholy–can add to your presentation.
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I saw Creed on Thanksgiving. It was simply fantastic. My brother mentioned that he was going to show his wife the first six movies before taking her to see this, the seventh. I told him that just wouldn’t work. Rocky can’t be “got” in 12 hours. The critics seem to agree. What is so special about Rocky? For me, Rocky is the ultimate example of man who lives without a hidden curriculum. My attempt to do the same is to share that I am taking the courses I’m taking at an Evangelical Christian Seminary because I can’t tell if I like Christianity because I was taught it at a young age or because it is historical reality in this time-space universe. What is odd, to me, is that while these days I definitely credit Jesus et al. with keeping me alive, I have no problem ceding that Stallone’s Rocky has had more immediate impacts on my everyday life. “Like” this post if you would have never attempted a one-armed push-up if it wasn’t for Rocky.
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If you’re looking for a Christmas gift for anyone who you think resembles me regarding their pursuit of self, get them James K. A. Smith’s How (Not) To Be Secular. Charles Taylor wrote a very long book that Smith summarizes succinctly. Taylor’s longer book is, Smith says, a map of our history and attempts to account for how in the year 1500 atheism didn’t exist and in the year 2000 theism is probably more difficult to maintain (yet people do). Taylor’s book is apparently 900+ pages. Smith’s is 139. One sentence is not going to do justice to Taylor’s ideas, but, again, it is a solid attempt to explain how the Protestant Reformation (a re-forming of worldviews), despite Christian designs, led to what Taylor calls “exclusive humanism” and atheism.
One of the main “hidden curriculums” that Taylor’s long tome exposes (according to Smith) is that it isn’t cold, hard scientific realities that have replaced the Christian story, but the appeal of being able to tell the story of how little ol’ me has now, through maturation and age, gained the courage to stare down the fact that life is without meaning.** And it’s a great story. But is it true? I don’t know.
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One thing that has my interest today is the idea of the inerrant nature of scripture. We’re learning Koine Greek and no one has any problem saying that the New Testament’s grammar isn’t inerrant. I can’t explain why, but upon hearing this my mind immediately went to the fact that grammar is itself only a convention. It’s not like God cares about whether sentences end in prepositions. So then I think about what written language is anyhow. Obviously it is communication. But this whole inerrancy thing seems to rapidly become merely a fight picked by *some* Christians. It causes lines to be drawn in the sand that perhaps allow for rightful displacing of heresies, but it also seems to fulfill prideful desires to be “right”. Do I believe the Bible is without error or contradiction? I certainly believe that many aged and mature Christians make that argument. And I trust their judgement. But, for me, inerrancy means that I believe the Bible, Old and New Testaments, is the final authoritative revelation of God’s word. I love Leo Tolstoy and Mark Twain–love them, probably idolize them. But where they disagree with the writer or Matthew or Luke or Paul or Moses, I concede that the canon of scripture wins.
And, yet, before any bible verses, some of the first quotes I have taught H- to recite are (relating to piano) Immortal Beloved’s, “A mistake is nothing. A lack of passion is unforgivable,” and relating to life, Tolstoy’s, “Happiness is not the realization of desire.” Then again, perhaps I’m not the most orthodox of Christians. Who knows?
*Dunning, H. Ray. Grace, Faith, and Holiness: A Wesleyan Systematic Theology. Kansas City: Beacon, 1988, 113.
**Smith, James K. A. How (Not) To Be Secular: Reading Charles Taylor. Grand Rapids: WM. B. Eerdmans, 2014, 77.
For Christians. (Pagans: Move along, nothing to see here.)
Religious indoctrination in a seminary has been very trying. There is an enormous love of the word “tension”–enormous. Tension between this and that. Tension everyday. Oh. And “unpack”. I have never heard the word “unpack” so many times before. “We’ll unpack this in a bit.” Okay then.
Here’s some unpacking from a Captain. (Former Captain–for those of you who were not privileged enough to make my group text, I am officially in every sense of the words “Honorably Discharged” from the Air Force as of last month.) Back to the unpacking. Here’s the greatest tension as I see it. The church fathers that history presents to us were avid writers. It seems at times that when they heard the bible verses which recommended unceasing prayer, they heard unceasing writing. We’re talking volumes upon volumes, confessions upon confessions. I love it. But I also want to do it myself. And I feel like there’s a unspoken belief that we (humanity) are beyond it. Well I’m not beyond it. I have my doubts and I want to explore them via the written word. This anonymous blog will have to suffice as I’m not entirely convinced I’ll be accepted into the group at school if I share everything with them. Let’s get started then.
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One aspect of the seminary I am at, an aspect that distinguishes it from other seminaries, is that there is a character development class. You read that right. I started this adventure with the idea of it being purely academic, and now face the fact that if I want a degree, I have to undergo two and a half years of character development. I’m kind of in love with the idea, while I simultaneously dread undergoing any changes. Because, you know, I’m perfect today.
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A part of this character development is the notion that my job has something to do with my religion. As I’ve recorded on this blog already, I kind of disagree with this idea wholeheartedly. The course presents the concept that, generally speaking, church-goers view a missionary as more important to the Kingdom than a plumber. Obviously this presents a huge problem since there are only so many missionaries, and yet my toilet runs right now. I believe that what follows are my most wise and encouraging to plumbers conclusions about life from one semester of introspection thus far. When talking about earning money, and whether or not there is a value in God’s eyes to the type of work you do, there are two questions that must be answered by Christians and whose answering will illustrate the ridiculousness of valuing one form of work over another.
“Should anyone be paid money to have a relationship with God?”
“What portion of your paycheck should be funded by sinners?”
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This brings me to another major tension. I confessed with the intent of gaining laughter and respect that I see the world through movies, and the professor responded with a, “Really?” She wasn’t entirely judging me, but her tone suggested some shock. Yet, every single class has referenced a major Hollywood production–every single class. The film Gladiator has made numerous appearances, and regarding a person’s professional endeavors, I have always identified Maximus’ servant Cicero’s line, “Sometimes I do what I want to do. The rest of the time I do what I have to do.”
Denver loves the idea of monetizing your passion. It’s horseshit to me. Just pay your bills. What you do when you’re not working is the real test. (In my humble opinion.)
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When dealing with God’s providence, by which I mean the notion of to what level God dictates your actions, I find strength in the non-canonical film The Last Samurai when Tom Cruise says about changing his destiny, “I think a man does what he can, until his destiny is revealed.”
Then again, I view all of life through movies.
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The other day H- learned how to play We Wish You A Merry Christmas during her piano lesson. The Muppets perform a hilarious version of the song and I had her listen to it. Randomly (and awesomely) H- responded by declaring that she has a new name. She says, “My first name is ‘Won’t Go’ and my last name is ‘Kindergarten’.” Then she looks up and says, “And my middle name is, ‘Light bulb.’ ‘Won’t Go Light bulb Kindergarten.'” I love the Freudian slip nature of that, and also the native american roots.
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Lastly, H-, who is 5 1/2 these days, always asks me to open her door when I finally decide to go to bed myself. I have often asked her why she wants the door open, because to me it seems like letting in any light at all would have the opposite effect on my own desire to sleep. In the past when she simply answered, “Because”, I let it go. For some reason tonight I didn’t let it go. I asked three times, “Why do you want the door open?” She finally confessed, “Because I don’t like turning the door handle.”
Boom.
Honesty on that level is so refreshing. “I don’t like turning the door handle.” So little H- is afraid she might not make it out of her room when she wakes up. I feel like there is a sermon in that admission. Something along the lines of how, metaphorically, the non-Christian, atheistic belief system alternatives give me no way to open the door whereas, on the other hand, Jesus provides the strength to open the door. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just addicted to the opiate of the masses.
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Oh, and lastly, if I may indulge myself, I am rapidly coming to the conclusion that American Christians must use the word “unfortunate” infinitely more often than they currently do. It is only in asserting how many people on this planet are unfortunate that American Christians will actually begin to recognize the possibly atheistic reasons behind their own good fortunes.
By way of example, I am incredibly fortunate. I come from a culture which values honesty and straight teeth. I have three years of experiential evidence that I will never have a difficult time finding a job that supports my lifestyle. And I can admit that that has nothing to do with Christianity. In fact, I view it as a hindrance to my Christian character.
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Actually I can keep going. In the character development course, the professor identified the idea of formal versus hidden curriculum. For example, formal curriculum is that all ages are welcome in a worship service. Hidden curriculum is that crying babies are not welcome (as disapproving glares from old people are gathered).
This is the big point of life, isn’t it? Announcing the hidden curriculum. What are we really saying to each other? From where I sit, humanity just hears the loudest claims. COCA-COLA IS THE GREATEST SOFT DRINK! BUDWEISER IS THE KING OF BEERS! LOUIS VUITTON IS THE BEST PURSE MAKER! WAL-MART IS THE ONLY STORE YOU NEED! HAPPINESS IS THE REALIZATION OF DESIRE!
Of course none of those are true, no matter how many beverages we buy or desires we realize, are they?
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Are they?
Theologian’s Log?
In a stunning turn of events whose deeper meaning even I am still struggling to discern, I just finished my first week at seminary where I am taking courses which line me up to earn a Masters of Divinity, with a major in theology. Smile, people. I am.
I don’t really have time to be writing for free at the moment, but I just feel like sharing some observations about this new journey.
First, this news should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me. I love talking/thinking/studying Christianity and theology. It only makes sense that I’d end up doing it in a formal school.
Second, I can now pronounce and write the Koine Greek alphabet in upper and lowercase.
Third, did I mention I can’t stop smiling? Here’s why. I was late to the orientation where the few other theology majors were chatting with the department heads. When it came time for questions, I asked, “So. Say a person doesn’t really know what theology is. How would you explain it?” My heart was pounding. I didn’t have time to add/drop courses etc, and so I didn’t want to discover that I was in the wrong room. Yet I had to ask the question. When he began to answer I played it cool and listened, though I am sure my eyes had a sparkle. When he stopped, I couldn’t suppress my excitement any longer. Boom. Huge smile. I was in the right place. I said, “You just made me happy.” The two professors couldn’t believe it. Ha. They chuckled and said, “We don’t usually hear students say that…” B, for one of my courses, I have to write a book report on a book called War in the Bible and Terrorism is the 21st Century. Knowing my own stance on war, post military service which included combat, I couldn’t help but feel like I just showed up to an all you can eat pizza buffet and discovered that there was also a dessert buffet. Read and write about whether “love your enemy” stops somewhere short of unless they’re building nukes? Yes sir. I’ll take another piece. And some ice cream.
Fourth, what this really boils down to is “I want to know what I believe.” I just want to know.
Fifth, as I’ve shared what type of Masters program I’m in with non-believers, I have chuckled nearly every time upon the discovery that while I’m the one attending, they seem to know more about my future as they say, “You want to be a preacher?” Ha. I have no idea. I just want to learn for now. It’s funny that learning as a virtue is totally gone. If there is no professional monetary endgame, then people become confused. “Why are you going then?” (Naturally, at this point I have to insist it’s to get in to heaven.)
Sixth, I cannot describe the feeling I get while on campus. Forget Jesus (forgive me Jesus), forget God (ditto), forget theology, forget the Bible (I’m really going to hell now), forget Christianity. Forget it all, and the place is still shocking. Unlike all the jobs and co-workers I’ve had, unlike the folks that constitute my beloved Toastmasters club, unlike those who attended my Mark Twain Listening Club, the seminary is a place filled with people who honestly want to make the world better. They’re not selling t-shirts, they’re not handing out business cards, they don’t have a desperation in their voice about closing the sale, they’re not trying to get the upper-hand in the conversation, they just have come to a place in their lives where they see service to others as their mission and want to do it in an as informed a way as possible. The campus, the offices, the classrooms, the chapel, the coffee shop, it’s just oozing with heart.
Seventh, I will not become a robot. One ex-mormon blogger-friend comes to mind now and I can hear her disdain at this news already. Allow me to rebut. Whatever other seminary’s exist, and what goes on behind their closed doors, I don’t know. So far this one is not a brain washing factory. So far the professors are classic professors. They are extremely well-read (and traveled), they are decent public speakers, they challenge commonly accepted beliefs and paradigms, and they have adorable quirks that can only be developed after years of standing at the front of a classroom and of which they are unaware. Let it be known: If anything gets weird, I’ll share it. And then I’ll definitely stay in the program. Undercover student in a cult indoctrination? That job is almost cooler than actually believing I might be able to learn how best to actively glorify God and perhaps be on the contributor side of the equation that might lead to a pagan experiencing the joyful spiritual transformation that occurs after accepting Jesus as his/her personal savior. You might call that a win-win situation.
Eighth, one of my first devil’s advocate questions to any heathen reader right now is this: “Do you believe human beings possess the parts/capability to discern that a leader is speaking from (brace yourself) God?” Put another way, is it possible for me to convince you that I honestly believe (as a reasonable, sane citizen) that leader So-and-So’s ideas/rhetoric/vision/plan/mission transcends generally accepted scientific knowledge? That they are acting as an agent of some unnamed ultimate reality? Or will you always label me a “sucker” or “delusional”? Why or why not?
Ninth, on a wholly un-theological note, I think God might have messed up. As H- gets older and older it is becoming clear that she is supposed to be the daughter of a blind couple. Does anyone else’s kid announce every single thing they do? “I’m walking. I’m putting on my shoes. I’m jumping. I’m playing. I’m swimming. I’m dancing. I’m raising my hand.” Yeah, H-, I get it. I’m right next to you and can see what you’re doing. These eyes aren’t just for show. Shyat!
Leave It To The Motherland…
And now, from the country that ended the slave trade, a little article unafraid to put ignorant youngsters with great personalities in their place.
It’s Just Us, Daddy, Written by Pete Deakon and Illustrated by Kaelyn Williams Now Available On Kindle. Buy it!
Buy it today for $2.99 by clicking here or on the images. And even if you don’t have $2.99 to spare, please, please add a review so that balance is restored to the force.
Speaking of Batman…
Click here to cry.
Dirty Floors
“I’m going to put on my socks just like you do, daddy,” H- volunteered one morning as she got dressed.
The little girl walked barefoot from her room to the kitchen, transitioning from carpet to faux-hardwood floors along the way. Next, she lifted her little foot up onto the kitchen chair. Her father watched with great intent as this struggle ended with no small amount of relief on her part. Nearly doing the standing splits, she now stood with one leg on the chair, one on the ground. Her body language displayed the smallest hint of her enjoying having his full attention. He saw her mimic his routine exactly. She bent forward, wiped off the bottom of her bare foot, and pulled the tiny sock on.
“Point taken,” the man thought to himself, smiling. “You’ve definitely got the gift, H-.”
“Where are you going, daddy?” she asked.
“To get the vacuum.”
Buy It Today! It’s Just Us, Daddy, by Pete Deakon and Illustrated by Kaelyn Williams is on sale now
You read that correctly. The long awaited illustrated children’s book is finally for sale on Amazon. Buy it by clicking here. Or here. Or here. You can also click here.
I plan on giving it to Glenn of Glenn Hates Books at the end of next week. Please don’t let his review (as awesome as it will be) be the first/only one posted.


Who Loves His Daughter More? Arnold vs. Liam, A Joint Review of Maggie and Taken
“Good will overcome. Trust in that.”
Lord Locksley is right yet again.
I hated Liam Neeson’s blockbuster Taken. Hated it. I hated it despite finding myself in a pool of people who loved it, people who adored it, people who worshiped it. It came out while I was still serving and both the men and women serving beside me couldn’t get enough of it. They also couldn’t keep their enthusiasm to themselves. A happy soul would volunteer they watched it on a long flight, and at least one listener would perk up with, “You saw Taken? What’d you think of it? Awesome, right? I loved it.”
I instinctively hated Taken because it is too easy. Is there any thing Neeson can’t do? No. He’s the most highly skilled and trained operative the world has ever seen. And he’s a dad. Then his virgin daughter gets kidnapped. Yes, I said virgin. His daughter is a virgin, and the whole movie rests on this one simple fact. Like a Fifty Shades of Grey for men, Taken is nothing more than fantasy of the basest kind. What wouldn’t a father with Neeson’s skills do to get his virgin daughter back? American macho men itch for a predicament like this, for a hero to cheer on, for a scenario that they can dream about happening to them. Wouldn’t it be nice if perfect, beautiful, innocent girls were being harmed? Then we could go torture and kill some people without losing sleep at night. Give me a break. Don’t believe my little theory? Ask yourself if you would’ve enjoyed the movie if the daughter had a reputation of being sexually active? Ask yourself how you would’ve felt if when given the horse for her birthday, the daughter had responded, “Aww, you shouldn’t have. I appreciate the effort, but I wanted something ‘hung like a horse’, not an actual horse.”
Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’m alone in my criticism. What else is new? I’m alone, but never without hope. For a long time I’ve waited for someone–anyone–to tell a good father-daughter story. You can imagine my excitement when, yesterday, I stumbled upon Arnold’s newest flick Maggie.
The premise? Zombies. The location? Rural Kansas. The conflict? Arnold’s late teenage daughter is infected with the dealio that turns people into zombies. But Arnold promised her mom, before she died (the mom, not the daughter) that he’d keep her (the daughter) safe.
That’s a remarkable story. The kiddo is going to become a flesh-eating zombie, and you have to kill it or it will kill you. What do you do? What will audiences cheer for? Who wins? Is it believable?
In this simple story, Arnold, the man who single-handedly inspired me and countless millions of others to exercise, essentially standing chest kicks Liam and his Taken nonsense 300-style into the pit. In effect, Arnold says, “You think traipsing around the globe killing people over your virgin daughter is love? Ha. You don’t know what love is, buddy.”
Kansans know what love is though. And I’d like to take a moment to personally thank Arnold for demonstrating this. “Thank you.”
Even before Maggie, Man of Steel did Kansans right with an amazing, old t-shirted (seriously, how do they make a t-shirt look so perfectly old?) Kevin Costner and his confident-yet-never-certain wisdom that goes against seemingly common sense which molded Clark into, well, Superman. Yahoo for Kansas.
You know that I grew up in Kansas. Kansas, which is beside Missouri–the Show Me state–must be the place then where I picked up my anti-authority, anti-utilitarianism attitude. The same attitude that Arnold and the other Kansans have in Maggie. The attitude that says, “So what if the government has mandated that infected folks have to be quarantined until they’re killed, so what if I might not be able to do what needs to be done before it’s too late and consequently the larger group is put at even more risk. So what? Who are you to tell me what to do? I only have one daughter, and I made a promise to her dead mother. There is more going on here than you and your rules.”
In the end, of course, Arnold kicks Liam’s ass. The movie is fantastic. There is actually another father-daughter sub-plot that takes the cake, but you have to see it to believe it. No spoilers here. If you secretly or overtly laughed at Taken, watch Maggie.
Why I Am Glad I Went To Church On Easter Sunday
All she did was remove her daughter’s jacket. Her adult daughter. Her daughter that normally attended the mega-church, but was either guilted into joining her parents at their church or she possibly understood the importance of going with them this one Sunday each year.
It wasn’t really that warm on the sunny Easter morning, but the building’s south facing stained glass definitely did little to shield her from the sun’s heat.
At eleven thirty the service had been going now for an hour and yet there were at least ninety more minutes to go. All this is to say that I can’t put it beyond the young woman that her decision to remove the jacket at that precise moment had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with an attempt to increase her busy-ness and thereby make the time go by faster. In any case, it was her mom’s action that caused my attention to remain on the movement taking place on the padded pew in front of me.
Her mom brought nothing less than a mother’s tender, loving care to the moment–and a whole lot more. Her fingers, as they brushed her hand, her fingers lingered. And in that infinite instant lay an entire childhood. In that instant, I saw the reason to grab her hand every time she reaches up for mine, the reason to hug her body every time she opens her arms, the reason to kiss her cheek every time she is about to walk away, the reason to pick her up every dinnertime, the reason to rub her back every bedtime, the reason to never put whatever passing chores life presents ahead of touching her. That instant showed those with eyes to see the inescapable truth. It is its temporary nature that bestows upon touch its insurmountable value.