I fell asleep last night pondering the word "more". It seems rather appropriate with the holidays so close. Kids recite Santa lists that to parents sound like, "Buy me
more!!" Meanwhile, parents look at wallets and checkbooks only to think, "Wish I had
more". Calendars crammed with parties, gatherings and end of the year work reports tick off minutes, hours, days and leave the flustered to need
more time. To do lists piled with cleaning, baking, and writing require
more help. Chaotic malls, post offices, and parking lots increase the desire for
more space. It seems everywhere I look I find examples of wanting
more.
"I want much more than this provincial life!I want adventure in the great wide somewhere, I want it more than I can tell. And for once it might be grand to have someone understand I want so much more than they've got planned" ~ Belle, Beauty & The Beast
Except in myself, there's not so much a desire to
want more as a desire to
be more. Lately life's been kinda crazy and I can't help but feeling like I'm not measuring up. When work is crazy-busy I feel like I need to be
more organized,
more efficient. When someone gives me a Christmas gift and I have nothing in return I feel that I should be
more thoughtful,
more caring. When I look at wrapping paper scraps scattered on my living room floor or the dishes piled in my sink I feel that I should be
more tidy,
more domestic. When I think about risks that I didn't take this year I feel that I should be
more bold,
more adventuresome.
"I can’t stand to fly, I’m not that naive. I’m just out to find the better part of me. I’m more than a bird, I’m more than a plane, more than some pretty face beside a train. And it’s not easy to be me." ~Five For Fighting, "Superman"
And as I write up this mental laundry list of my own shortcomings, I think about how this time of year personal faults can shine brighter than Rudolph's nose. Follow my mental train of thought here: in Christmas we celebrate Christ's birth and the miracle of God becoming human. With that incarnation, it's understood that in every second of his life Jesus was perfect. In two millenia not one other human has acheived even a miniscule fraction of that. Grasping that, a sense of humility - and let's face it unworthiness - can easily ensue. We want to be more because we want to be more like God. We want to earn His sacrifice and say that if the tiny baby in the manger was born with the purpose of dying for us, we're worth dying for because we're more than just average everyday humans. But here's the kicker, we're not. God came to us not because we're capable of being good enough for Him, but because He loves us just as we are.
"I love you more than the sun and the stars that I taught how to shine, you are mine, and you shine for me too. I love you yesterday and today and tomorrow, I'll say it again, I love you more." ~Matthew West, "More"
No matter how organized, thoughtful, tidy, and bold I am - there will always be room for improvement. In fact, I could have three months advanced work itineraries; gifts for friends at the drop of a hat; a house that Martha Stewart would envy; and be living every moment of my life to its fullest - and still I would want to be more. But God loves me when I'm inefficient. He cares for me when I'm not caring. He still likes me when I'm not into cleaning. And he's gentle with me when I don't feel very adventuresome. It's these gaps in my life, and many more shortcomings, that allow me be in need of His son, His sacrifice. If I knew all the answers of how to live my life to be the best lisa I can be, I wouldn't need a leader in my life. If I were perfect, I wouldn't need a forgiver. I guess it all comes down to needing
more of God in my life and what better time than Christmas to seek it out and accept it.
"...What You had in mind, through my weakness shine, show me grace, a little more than I can give, a little more than I deserve. Unearth this holiness I can't earn...With all this motivation, I still find a hesitation deep in my soul. Despite all my demanding I still find You understanding. Show me grace, show me grace I know is a little more than I can give, a little more than I deserve. Unearth this holiness I can't earn. It's a little more than I can give, a little more than I deserve." ~ Jennifer Knapp, "A Little More"
I haven't said much recently about what I've been reading lately, but earlier this week I finished a lesser known blog-worthy book. Edward Gilbreath's Reconciliation Blues: A Black Evangelical's Inside View of White Christianity isn't the type of book I'd normally tear off the shelf and breeze through in a day and a half but I found myself riveted by the no-nonsense semi-biographical analysis of race relations in the modern Christian church. Gilbreath, a writer for the magazine Christianity Today, takes historical, political and even skeptical approaches to the subject of racial reconciliation. He finds a great strength in including Latino, Asian and Native American voices in his book and avoids the problem of limiting his discussion to - quite literally - black and white issues. I checked this book out of the New Release section at my local library but I find myself hunting for it at nearby bookstores so that I can have my own copy to highlight, underline and (as soon as possible) share with others. I can't say I'd recommend this book to everyone simply because I don't know that it's the kind of topic many people are truly ready for but it should be a must read for anyone attempting to answer the questions of "Do we need multicultural churches?"; "Are multicultural churches possible?" and "How do you make multicultural churches work?".
perfectly to the color of a standard lab bench. Needless to say the stray grain of it inevitably winds up where it is least expected - usually on the hands of the unsuspecting lab tech who removed her gloves after what she thought was a thorough cleaning of the counters. And really, is there anything more complementary to a long hard day at work than leaving the office with palms and fingers the color of blueberries? I seriously looked like I'd been running around all day squashing Smurfs with my bare hands. If I had the black robe and malicious kitty I could've done a great Gargamel impression because certainly my annoyance at the incident brought out a long suppressed evil Smurf-killing countenance that I didn't even know I had in me. After a dozen washings (and Smurf curses muttered under my breath) my hands had only faded to a dark cerulean shade and two days later, two days of excessive hand-washing later, my skin was still resembling a speckled robin's egg. And truthfully, if that was the worst of it, I could cope. But as it turns out as I got to work today - on the verge of regaining my normal-for-me bleached chalk skin tone - Bromo-Blue Buffer was back on my to-do list. Regardless of caution - double gloves, paper towels, triple cleanings - I once again am the not-so-proud bearer of six out of ten blue fingers. I'll get you Papa Smurf if it's the last thing I do!
So the University of Illinois (my esteemed alma mater!) has officially retired Chief Illiniwek. You can read all about it in the Tribune or at U of I's official statement website. Personally I think the whole thing fizzling out seems like something of a joke. [Not that any part of the issue can be more of a joke than 2002's infamous Plummer report stating "the Board of Trustees has but two alternatives – retain the Chief or retire him." Uhhh... no shit, Sherlock!] However in light of the upcoming last dance, those that support the Chief get no type of honorable retirement for their "beloved tradition" and those that see him as nothing more than a point of contention lack the apology and denunciation of labelling him a "racist mascot". Perhaps this is the only way to achieve a compromise in which case I will concede that it is, in all ways, for the best. But when I look at the efforts of those that have argued the dilemma for the past decade or more, it seems quite the anticlimactic end to things. What has long been painted as a war between alumni dollars and Native American interests has come down to no more than the simple matter of hosting post season sports.
