Sports

My son wants to be a professional athlete. He's not particular about the sport - football, baseball, basketball - he'd take any job. I tell him that no one makes it to the big leagues except freaks (the ratio of pro athletes to regular folks qualifies them as freaks), but that doesn't make much difference.

My first instinct when he brings this up is to belittle sports because they're frivolous. They don't manufacture a product like the auto industry does or provide a needed service like a plumber. They don't serve anyone in meaningful ways like a doctor or teacher or social worker does. But then he plays his trump card. He says this to me...

He says, "But Dad, what about Tim Tebow?"

Tebow is to the you-shouldn't-be-a-pro-athlete argument, what dynamite is to rock/paper/scissors--nothing beats it. It's also not fair, just like dynamite.

The Tebow model for justifying a career in pro sports, in case you're not familiar with it, goes like this: professional sports provides a platform for Christian influence, ministry, and evangelism that no other industry provides. Just as look at what Tim's done with it! It has to be good and right! Right?

Like I said, it's unfair.

Here's why: Tebow's justification doesn't work as the justification for a career in sports because it puts the same Tebow expectation on any and every professional Christian athlete. Not everyone is called to be a pastor or teacher or evangelist. Not everyone is called to be Tim Tebow. Some are called to Jason Hansons. Quiet, steady, rock-solid Jason Hansons.

Would it be un-Christian to quietly go about your athletic career, working hard, working as unto the Lord, without praise, and doing it in such ways that only your teammates and coaches know anything about your faith? If the answer is no, if it wouldn't be un-Christian, then the Tebow model doesn't stand up as the justification for such a career. It may be his, but not everyone's, and not necessarily my boy's. If the answer is yes...well, the answer's not yes, it's no.

So there must be more to our choice of vocation than the potential leverage for proclaiming the gospel.

I look again at my gut objection, that pro athletes "don't serve anyone in meaningful ways like a doctor or teacher or social worker does." As I think about the nature of work, I realize that my perceptions of value here are arbitrary. My gut tells me that the work of a doctor is intrinsically more valuable than that of a mechanic, whose work is more valuable than that of a pro athlete, whose work might be just a smidge better than a Hollywood actor.

Why do I think that? I shouldn't think that.

If I work in a plant in Louisville producing baseball bats, will I be doing more valuable work than playing the game for a paying audience? Less valuable? Is writing code for an actuarial table intrinsically better than writing it for a computer game? If so, how does the line get drawn? If not, why do we find it so easy to draw such lines?

I've always thought, and so told my kids, that a career in professional sports is silly and beneath one's dignity. Now, I'm not so sure. Jobs have become so specialized and fragmented that it's hard to qualify one as noble and another as silly. There are extremes, of course, and those tend to be easier to classify. A farmer works hard and feeds people. That's a good job and a no-brainer, right? A drug-dealer or day-time talkshow host destroys lives--his own and others. No-brainer, again. But between the two, where most of us work, it gets difficult. And I think it's difficult because, extremes notwithstanding, it's a futile exercise. To try to assign some value to work based on its cosmic good, or whatever, is just silly. It breaks down as soon as you look closely at it.

If Joe works in a factory producing picture frames, does he need to discern the empirical value of picture frames in society in order to determine the value of his work? We don't need picture frames, not really. They're nice but not necessary. But if Joe stops his thinking there, then he's sunk. He's living a wasted life. On the other hand, if Joe remembers that he's providing for his family through "honest" work, that God hasn't prohibited us from making picture frames (not that I'm aware of), that he's exercising dominion over the earth by subduing raw materials and creating something useful, then Joe has a career to be proud of. One of the leading Christians of the church in Philippi was Lydia, a seller of purple. Does anyone really need purple? No, but God made purple, so it's good. There's no scriptural prohibition against it, and as far as we know, God left her alone to keep selling it.

So maybe the criteria for work's value is not an empirical quality of the service or product, but something in the act of working itself. But that begs a question: what is the something?

The answer to that helps me draw my lines clearly. The something is faith. Paul says in Romans 14, "whatever does not proceed from faith is sin." And what is faith? Believing that God's word is true and that it's our only guide in all of life. If my son's choice (should he have the opportunity) to become a pro athlete proceeds from that, genuinely proceeds from that, then who am I to stop him?

Of course, he'd have to play on Sundays.

Hmm...maybe I need to check my gut again.

Children are a (very practical) Blessing

Children are a blessing from the Lord in many ways: they're cute when they're little; they'll take care of us in our old age; they'll give us grandkids and anniversary parties and lives to live vicariously through. They'll contend with us in the gates (i.e. they've got our backs). All this is true. But what I've been thinking about lately is the very practical aspect of having kids who can handle responsibilities.


Now that's a blessing.


My two older ones, Charlie and Lewis, are evidence of this. They more than pull their weight around the house: they babysit, haul wood, shovel snow (I spared them this last time and sprang for a plow truck, but they know how to shovel), clean the kitchen and bathrooms, vacuum acres of carpeting. The youngers are right in the olders' footsteps, fully immersed in "blessing" training. No, we're not breaking child labor laws--it's just chores--but regular chores have proven an integral part of running a well-ordered home (H will roll her eyes at that, but I know better). Sure, they grumble in their minimalist, slope-shouldered way, but I'm convinced they feel a greater sense of being vested in the home through the work they do here. It might be hard to confirm that until they're much older and can look back with some perspective, but that's how it feels to us now, and that's what we've been hoping for all along. It's one of the key reasons we chose homeschooling: that we'd be in it--in all of it--together.


Occasionally, when I find myself in conversation about how many kids I have (and I only have "a lot" in certain circles), I'll say something like, "There's a point where you have an economy of scale, and the older kids start taking care of the younger ones." Then I'll say, "So you may as well have a dozen." The other person will then laugh and say, "I don't know how you do it." And while the whole conversation comes off as a joke, the economy of scale thing, thankfully, is really very true.


So I'll let Heidi know we can have six more.

"Christmas" Letter Brainstorm

It's not a Christmas letter, but that's what we still call it. I think of it more as a 1st quarter letter. This way the letter's not late; I just have to get it out by end of March.

But I'm not waiting until March. I'm writing it today, and since I haven't blogged in a while I thought I'd post the brainstorm session and kill two birds with one in the bush. Now, Heidi can't say, "you were supposed to start the letter and you blogged instead?!" Pretty smart, huh?

So here goes. I'll start with the kids...

Charlie - he's getting tall. I can almost wear his shoes, and since his tend to be newer and in better shape, he won't be tempted to wear mine. It'll be a good arrangement once it gets moving. I used to steal my brother's clothes all the time. He had better fashion sense. I figure by next year I'll be looking quite nice in Charlie's sweaters.

Lewis - wrenched his knee in basketball this week. We definitely feel his absence around dinner time when he can't do his chores. Children are a very practical blessing, especially when they're old enough to clean the kitchen, haul wood, and shovel driveways. Lewis does all three well, and then some. (this is a brainstorm - I'll come up with warm fuzzy stuff later).

Max - coming along as a point guard, and his piano playing is starting to sound like Miss Cathy knows what she's doing. As always, Max is cheerful and quick to talk to the closest human. He's got my flakiness and a true man's inability to find whatever he's lost, and he loses stuff with the best of em.

Hudson - It will be interesting to see how living life in pursuit of a bunch of older, bigger kids will play out in Hud's development. So far so good; He can hang with anybody. And though he does get sat on more than anyone else, we haven't noticed any response or coping mechanisms that might call for therapy later in life. I can see some of Charlie's science bent, Lewis's perpetual motion, Max's good nature, and Heidi's cheek dimple.

Elizabeth - she's a great big sister. And though she tries to make up for Bennett's lack of comprehension with sheer, high-pitched volume, she seems to be one of the boy's favorites. She's definitely girl-wired. Her proclivity towards all things pink and princess-ish is continuing on in the same trajectory. If there's any tomboy there, we ain't seen it yet.

Bennett - kind of a pain right now. H and the boys are at enrichment day, and he reeeeally likes to be held. He doesn't do much either. No skills at all. I tend not to find much interest in my kids until they're at least one. I love them, of course. They're just sort of lumpish until then.

Work - same. I'm thankful to be employed. Heidi's thankful she can be at home.

Friends, family, church life, personal interest stuff -- saving all that for the letter. I'll post it here too when we're done. Probably some time this summer.

We Don't Need Self Esteem - We Need its Antidote

I heard recently about a report on US students' math and science scores in comparison with the rest of the industrialized world. Apparently we suck at both subjects, but especially when we're compared with Asian nations. That wasn't a surprise. Japanese and Korean kids go to school a bazillion hours a day, all year long - hardly an arrangement I want my kids trading up to.

What did surprise me was another stat. Apparently, US students did score higher than any other nation in one category - confidence. Our students think they're great at math. They feel good about themselves and their math skills and believe in themselves (whatever that means). In contrast, students from Asian countries--and this may surprise you--are not only less confident in their abilities, but they actually dislike math and science more than US students do. So how do we make sense of this? I think it's easy - our students don't feel like they need it - we've protected them from such feelings - while the rest of the world knows they need it.

The self-esteem nonsense we've been feeding our kids for a few decades now is bearing its fruit: Our kids no longer excel at math and science because they no longer have to. They feel good and fine right where they're at. And why shouldn't they? They're learners, and we've been teaching them that they're just fine since they were teachable. Unfortunately, in this respect we've done our jobs too well. We've taught them right out of teachability and into complacency. No one is teachable who thinks he knows it all. No one is teachable who thinks she doesn't need the knowledge. 


Of course, no teacher is telling students explicitly that they know it all, or that knowledge and skills are unnecessary. But if a student is told for years that his work is good when it's not, that he should feel proud of his efforts when he should feel shame, if he's been affirmed in things that should have been torn down, then his perception of ability and need will be skewed. In such a head, self becomes the determining agent, and all things, including knowledge, must submit to it.  In "teaching" our kids self-esteem, we've thrown out the one thing our students need most - the humility of a teachable spirit.

So how do we reverse course? Well, we don't just do the opposite. The remedy to being bit by a snake is not to bite it back, but to find an antidote. The opposite of self esteem is not self negation or self immolation or self anything. It's not an inward or even a horizontal perspective at all--it's vertical. The only way to reverse the damage that self-esteem teaching has done and is doing to our kids is to show them who they really are before a holy God. And then show them what God's really done in Christ. We need to teach them that they're not fine, that they're not ok, that they have nothing in themselves on which to base confidence. But we don't stop there. We also teach that there's a place on which to build true confidence that is much broader, much stronger than self. We teach them Christ esteem.

That's what I'll do with my own kids, but as a public school teacher, I don't think I'll be attending in-services on it any time soon.

Stuff I Like Right Now

Heidi thinks some of my posts are too . . . something. Heavy? This one's not heavy, not at all.


Some stuff I like right now...


Mumford and Sons. I did a FB status a few weeks ago asking for music suggestions and got a few nods to M and S. Thanks.


Same for Kings of Leon.


True Grit. Haven't seen a movie in at least a year, maybe two, but when I saw the trailers for this film, I really wanted to see it. It occurred to me only then that I also like...


Westerns, at least recent ones (The Unforgiven, 3:10 to Yuma, Open Range). And because I really like...


Cohen brothers films (I've always known that), this one did not disappoint on either category.


Pizza. I have in mind a particular recipe, a childhood memory of eating pizza with cousins in Chicago at Gino's or Uno's, can't remember which. I'll be taking a shot at it soon, just need the right sauce. Suggestions are welcome.


Nyquil. I've been sick most of Christmas break (I'm sick every break; my body has a good sense for the calendar and knows when it can fall apart with minimal disruption to the rest of life), but I've been sleeping well. I recommend cherry flavored.


Bowl games. Doesn't matter who's playing, there's just something about watching college athletes playing what for many of them will be their last organized game of football. Whatever the something is, it's patently missing at the pro level.


My 55" TV to watch bowl games. I'm not audio/video guy. I'm not any sort of techie; in fact, I've never bought a TV in my life but have done pretty well with hand-me-downs. A couple years ago, a buddy upgraded and gave us his old one. Love it. Thanks, Tim.


Tea. It's cold out and I don't drink coffee.


My wood stove. There will come a time this winter when I'm sick of burning wood and everything associated with it. I'm not there yet. Wood is still good.


This post has caused me to think about two things: 1) I haven't included anything like wife, kids, friends, church, God. Somehow, telling the world that I like these things diminishes them. Such things are for a different category - they'd be sullied by lesser company; and 2) I don't like this kind of blogging. It's exactly the kind of writing that gives me a funny, slightly queasy feeling when I hear the word blog. The topic is me and I'm uncomfortable writing so closely on it. It's the same feeling I get when I begin, then delete, a FB update and say to myself, "who really cares what I had for dinner?" So if you said something like that to yourself as you read this, I apologize.


That being said, however, I'm not going to delete this. I want it on record that I posted a fluffy piece on stuff I like. But I think I'll stick with the heavy from now on. 


Sorry, honey.

A Picture? Or a Thousand Words?

I recently heard this narrow slice of our modern era—the late 20th, early 21st century—described as the “age of image.” The notion behind it being that our use of information today is primarily image-based rather than word-based. 

It’s not hard to see how this is true. Consider that in the last century we’ve seen not only the advent of digital media, but—going waaay back—of picture books for kids and pop-culture magazines that have had their verbiage squeezed out a little each decade by images. Our children today, and for the last couple of generations, really, have been raised, educated, pacified, and entertained with images. 

This would seem to speak to the old proverb that a picture is worth a thousand words. But is it? The answer, of course, depends on the words. For example, one picture cannot express…

• a mission statement
• your epitath
• a knock-knock joke
• what Emily Dickinson can with 10 words
• the simplest legal document

I understand what the maxim means to say: that some pictures—pieces of photo journalism come to mind—communicate ideas, truths, impressions that could not be captured in the same way with words. I don’t dispute that. But there’s a kind of job that images can’t do. They can’t argue. Not really. Images can’t present claims. They can’t reason syllogistically. They can’t sequence premises, conditions, and conclusions. For communication that compels a reader to action—whether the action is a change in thought, an emotion evoked, or a purchase—we need words. 

I am not proposing that words are innately better than visual images. That would be like saying trees are better than clouds; each has value within a particular context. And the context in which words have value is that of human thought and expression. More than these even, words have value that's rooted at our most fundamental essence. The power of words for humans is derivative; i.e. God first used words to form creation, and our use of them derives from being made in his image. Words are permanent (they can't be replaced by images) because they’re somehow essential to existence itself. 

So we can call this the bit of history—and the next one, and the one after that—whatever we want, but one thing’s certain, we’ll use words to do it.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. John 1:1

Merry Christmas!

Last night, as is the tradition in my extended family, one of the kids read the Christmas account from Luke 2. And though the angel proclaiming the news to the shepherds does refer to the child as "Savior", the focus of the narrative is on the circumstances of Christ's birth, not the reason. To fill out the reason, we can look to other scripture.

Here in Paul's letter to the Colossians we have the objective of Christ's incarnation:

He is the image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation. For by him all things were created, in heaven and on earth, visible and invisible, whether thrones or dominions or rulers or authorities—all things were created through him and for him. And he is before all things, and in him all things hold together. And he is the head of the body, the church. He is the beginning, the firstborn from the dead, that in everything he might be preeminent. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and through him to reconcile to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven, making peace by the blood of his cross.

And in his letter to the Philippians, we have the attitude that such a mission required:

...Christ Jesus who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death even death on a cross. 

So the baby in the manger came to die, "to reconcile to himself all things...by the blood of his cross." And while it's true that Christmas points to Easter, we should be careful here. To say that one celebration is better than the other (and I've heard the statement before) is to miss the point. The objects of both Christmas and Easter celebrations are part of the same story, which is the story of the entire Bible and the whole of the Christian faith--that God is a redeemer and he redeems at his own expense.

As I teach my kids to think about the incarnation (and it's an amazing thing to ponder), I must remember that it fits within a broader context--the whole gospel of Jesus Christ.  

Merry Christmas!