Then Everything Stops...

...and a lot of my life--ambitions, concerns, obligations, goals, interests--seems insignificant in comparison. I'm not sure I'd ever been as scared as I was for that hour or so early yesterday morning, nor so immersed in the present as I have been these past two days. I am grateful that my girls are alive, considering this reality seemed truly threatened. This is it, I think; this is as deep and true as life gets. I told Joann today that I feel primitive, thinking that this is what it might have felt like to be a hunter-gatherer: few ambitions and commitments other than health, survival, community and care.

Spring in Pictures

I’ve been rather silent here lately, feeling a lack of time and “space” to put up any kind of content. But it doesn’t mean I/we haven’t been having fun! Spring, according to my calendar, is nearly over; here are some glimpses (swiped from Joann’s FB page) into what we’ve been up to in this season of new life.

I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m crying. Joann made me laugh so hard I was crying and even having a little trouble breathing. That’s really all I’d better say in this venue. It was funny.

I blogged several weeks back about the Dragon Boat race preparation and implied some broader applications to the principles of effective dragon boat racing. You can see some of Joann’s extended family in the bottom shot, come to cheer us on, and one of the actual races in the top photo. That’s our team in the back—in last place. We raced three times against three competitors each race. We lost every race. Once we were way behind and caught up; another time we were in the lead, and then must have gotten overly giddy and lost focus, as we ended up in last. If winning is everything, then we did not experience “everything.” We did have fun.

Joann’s so good to me. She’s very tolerant of my obsessive Mariners fandom. I don’t usually watch the games, though we occasionally go to El Sarape to catch one (she usually brings something to craft or grade). I guess this is my game-watching face. I’m not sure what’s going through my head, or if I’m just kind of entranced, not really thinking about anything. If there was a thought bubble with this picture, it’d probably say something like: “Oh no…I’m simultaneously aware that we’re probably not going to score that runner from third, and that I forgot to ask for guacamole.”

 

And a real game! Thanks Mom, for a great birthday present. They lost. The weather was nice. I drank expensive beer.

Baby clothes and toys! Joann and I have an ongoing lighthearted feud about the value of acquiring baby clothes, especially so early. She, of course, feels it to be VERY important. Don’t worry, I know I’m wrong.

Our now-preferred branch of our favorite Olympia coffee, Batdorf and Bronson, next to the Farmer’s Market. And amazing, homemade oatmeal cookies Joann made later that day.

  

Out with the old, in with the used-but-new-to-us. My parents, concerned for us but more for the well-being of their coming grandchild, decided we needed a vehicle upgrade. We’re now driving an 03 Saturn Vue. It’s been a lot of fun…so many little conveniences that I didn’t know I was missing, including the ability to put down the back seat and take naps. We actually took our second car nap today, driving over to the marina and parking for an hour or so.

We continued (and likely concluded) a now two-year tradition of a Memorial Day trip to Ocean Shores. Here we are outside and inside the car, parked on the beach, likely waking up from our first nap in our new toy.

It’s official! I had been accepted a few months ago, but had to send this official document in as an “acceptance of my acceptance.” Been spending a lot of my free time apartment/rental house shopping in the bay area (heavily considering Alameda) and doing some preparatory reading to ready myself as much as possible for the program. My excitement for the move and life change has been a bit overshadowed by my emotions surrounding that other big life change happening…but…I’m ecstatic. It’s really a dream come true. Two dreams coming true. Actually…three dreams. My third dream is that pregnancy would end as soon as possible, so that my wife can return to some kind of normalcy. I’m sooooooo over pregnancy. J

My pregnant cutie.

My cutie again, doing something that she’s not as good as me at. Not to brag or anything.

I thought we’d miss them but we didn’t! My grandma’s lilacs were in full bloom during our last visit to Woodland, with their wonderful aroma and variety of colors. Joann made me do the muscle pose. I’m really not normally a muscle pose guy. I swear. I’m more of the frolic, jump-in-the-air type. Those bottom two shots were my creative choice. J

We did it…all six seasons of “Lost.” Started at the beginning of Spring, just finished a few days ago. Fun to take the “journey” again; definitely a different experience watching it all in about two months rather than six years.

So proud! Joann’s play—The Pirates of Penzance—was nominated for several awards by a Washington State awards program organized by a professional theater company (5th Avenue). More significantly, she herself was recognized with a nomination for best direction. Because, she’s awesome at what she does.

Some of my guests at the show—my mother, and a group of my English students on a “field trip.”

An early spring jaunt to Portland, down at the waterfront. I like this picture a lot.

Prom! We didn’t go to Tumwater’s prom; it came to us. Our early evening picnic at Capital Lake received a welcome interruption from a group of Joann’s theater students. We didn’t dress up, so…we…ate each other’s sandwiches.

My latest, favorite food discovery—Quinoa. Which I’ve been pronouncing like “Kee-oh-na” like an idiot. That’s not even a reasonable mispronunciation, given the letter order. It’s of course, “keen-wah.” And it’s one of the healthier things you can put in your body…and versatile!

And finally…tree-climbing. I whimsically climbed up the tree, enjoying a moment of nostalgia. Until I began to distrust both the tree and my flip-flops and proceeded to climb back down. I’m really intrigued by the way we perceive people and how that’s different from how we perceive ourselves. A co-worker today was shocked to discover how messy my desk was (WAS…I gave it a good tidying today and it now looks pristine) with papers unorganized and haphazardly stacked—it didn’t fit her polished image of me. I wonder how many people I know would feel a bit of cognitive dissonance at knowing I climb trees. Or, differently, who would feel the same in discovering I’m pursuing a PhD. Or that I love to cook. Or that my desk was so messy. Or that I support gay marriage. Or that I love baseball statistics. I guess it’s a fascinating thought—the possibility that every person who knows me has a slightly different picture of me, just as I perceive you, if I know you, differently from how others perceive you. I don’t know what it means…maybe nothing significant. I just find it interesting.

Watching Tides and Mourning Brevity

Growing up we used to make a two hour drive up north to stay at a cabin on Hood Canal (west Puget Sound) that belonged to some church friends. One of my most vivid memories of those visits was tide watching. With the help of a tide guide/booklet, I would take frequent jaunts down to the beach to see how much the water had risen. I made seeing high and low tides a priority.

The coming and going of the water fascinated me. And, I’ll confess, I’m proud of my youthful self for so deeply appreciating something like this. The rhythm, the predictability, the naturalness, the connection between moon and water…I don’t know what it was that primarily captivated me, but something did.

I was thinking about this memory today because the rhythm of tides—the water coming in, the water going out—is an image connected with some of my emotions stemming from the season I’m in. Given the impending transitions coming for Joann and I, I’ve entered that final phase where I really start to prepare for the end of an era—if just under two years can be considered an era—and reflect back upon it.

My grandma’s lilacs have already come and gone, I hear, and I wasn’t able to get home for a visit to see them this year. Also, as I took off my running shoes yesterday to find cherry blossoms stuck to the soles, I realized that as quickly as spring has come, some elements of this season are already passing away. Even the sun today reminds me that as quickly as such nice weather comes, so quickly will it leave, this time of year in the northwest.

As Joann and I watched her last show at Tumwater High School this past Saturday night, I was a bit baffled at how quickly two years can pass by. I think about our initial reason for moving to Olympia—to start a church—and how what once seemed a significant part of my story feels now more like a blip, a moment that certainly packed a punch in the way it shaped who I am today but which also now seems only brief event in my story.

I think about all of my international students. Over my 20+ months at EF, I’ve seen hundreds of students come and go. That’s the nature of our school, with some students staying a whole year and some only two or three weeks. Lots of turnover, lots of goodbyes. Lots of people walking into my life and then swiftly walking out of it.

I cope with it by telling them I’ll see them again someday, or that Facebook will be a source of contact; and I do kind of believe that I might see them, given my love of travel and the increasing smallness of the world and my relentless optimism that makes me tell myself little lies, from time to time.

Moreover, part of how I understand Christian hope is that it is a hope that I really do have all the time I could ever need to see those who walked the earth with me. Still…it’s a coping mechanism, a reflection of my grieving over the numerous goodbyes I have to say and have said to me.

And I always begin to think a similar thing at this point when the “tide” begins to shift and recede: have I savored this time? How much time did I spend thinking about what’s next? How much time did I spend not thriving but simply enduring? How lightly or even indifferently did I consider and feel toward the precious souls who blessed my life simply by their presence in it?

It makes me a bit anxious…though I want that pressure, I think. Part of living well, in my opinion, means taking as much of my life as possible as seriously as possible—seriously in the sense of gratitude, awareness, appreciation…not in the sense of being uptight or humorless. But when I get to the end of something, I start to feel that pressure—have I loved this part of my life? Am I aware of its richness, of the greatness of these opportunities, or did I miss it?

I got a little preachy last Thursday to a roomful of 200+ students at a lecture/presentation I gave, and told them the value of “ending well.” Sometimes students leave our school disappointed by something about their experience, and often go out with negative feelings, eager to be rid of “rainy, boring Olympia” or whatever their lament might be.

I strongly suggested to them that a much better way to live life is to end well—to be grateful for whatever it is that’s ending, not because it’s ending but because it contained beauty, goodness, people that mattered, experiences that shaped you, invaluable learned lessons. I suggested that ending well is an important ability that will increase your overall happiness in life.

I’m hoping to feel the same. To do the same. To end well. To be grateful for these memories, but not feel anxious about how quickly everything seems to have passed, nor feel regret that I didn’t do this or that “more” or “better.”

A lot of things come and go quickly. There’s a balance I want to embody: to enter in as deeply as possible to temporary, passing things, yet not anxiously try to hold on to something when its time has come to an end. To both celebrate and mourn the end. To realize that life is full of ends, yet also of beginnings.

I tend to think that after I die, none of the precious events of my life will be forgotten, and that whatever the afterlife looks like, I’ll be afforded the opportunity to be aware of and grateful for all that’s happened in my life. That makes me feel better about letting things go in this life, knowing that they are preserved and cannot be totally lost nor forgotten.

I pray I’d have the capacity to do what I’m talking about. To savor, to embrace the comings and goings without anxiety and self-doubt but instead with gratitude and peace. The virtues of various religious traditions, including my own, come to mind as potential tools: the “mindfulness” and “attentiveness” so valued in Buddhism; the “discipline” I see modeled so well by many of my Muslim students; the “tolerance” and “respect” for everyone and everything and the way of the universe so sought after in Hinduism; the joy, peace, and hope Christians seek after.

Much of life follows this same rhythm of tides: coming and going, ebb and flow, presence and absence. I suppose knowing this is half the battle of coping with a season such as this. The other half of the battle is actually handling this reality well—both mourning it and being at peace with it.

I’m a generally joyful person, contagiously so at times, I’m told. :) But in my heart, I grieve times like this, and must work through the melancholy induced by this very natural part of life.

Do You See Me? Three Vignettes

I think one of my deepest needs is to be acknowledged. Not just the acknowledgement of my physical presence, which is important and sometimes sufficient acknowledgement. But also my mind, my heart, my opinions, my efforts. I think a lot of who I am goes unnoticed, every day. That’s almost a bit depressing but, ultimately, not really all that depressing.

Panhandler

On Monday I took my usual route home from work, exiting 101 onto Black Lake Blvd. As I coasted down the off-ramp and slowed to a stop, there he was perched at his usual spot, sign in hand, hoping to bum a cigarette or maybe some spare change.

But it’s really not a “he”—it’s a “them.” There are a number of different people who man that spot, though there are a few regulars who I recognize. I didn’t know this man. One side of his sign said something about money, the other side the mantra “Go Green.” Okay; I guess he was on double duty: seeking money and saving the planet.

I don’t ever give out money at this spot. I think I once gave out a bottle of water there. I usually make eye contact, and smile, then permanently look away. I guess it’s my way of communicating that I acknowledge you, recognize you are human and have dignity, and don’t consider you a nuisance, but I won’t be donating anything.

It was a gorgeous day and my window was down, so I anticipated some kind of interaction this time. He didn’t ask me for money; he just said “go green” pointing to his sign. I think I gave him a thumbs up and said something like “right on.”

He said something like, “people never look at the sign, man.” I told him that I always read the signs. Actually, I’m not sure he’s right; I tend to think everyone reads the signs. They just look away quickly after reading.

Then he said to me, “some people say I need counseling.” Without hesitation, I responded with a smile, “I could use a little counseling myself.” He seemed to hear both my spoken and implicit message, responding: “don’t we all.”

I didn’t give him any money. The light turned green and I drove on.

Special Needs

A diverse community of people cross my path every weekday. In class and walking to and from class, I encounter the EF International community, of course. I also encounter Evergreen students, about whom it’s become a bit cliché to call “odd.”

And then are the "special needs" kids who I don't know much about but who appear to work on campus in various roles, jobs I assume need to be done but which most people don’t want. As I felt in my past experience working with special needs people, I sometimes find it odd that they’re considered to have "special needs."

I mean, I do get it, obviously. But sometimes they don’t seem like they need all that much. This particular group of students, based on limited encounters in the lobby, around campus, and in the bathroom, don’t seem to feel a lot of stress or worry.

Actually, now that I think about it, these people might be some of that happiest people I know. Care-free, at peace with the world, it seems. I may be wrongly assessing them, but that’s how they seem to me. I think those not labeled “special needs”—myself included—have in their own way a whole host of needs that they feel must be met, many of these needs perhaps stemming from angst, discontent, fear. These young men and women seem need-free, in this respect.

Yes, they need guidance and direction and supervision and support. I suppose there are different ways of being needy. I’m not sure they need to be noticed, like I do. I need attention, and praise, and validation, or my insecurities can emerge and thwart my efforts to be whole and good, to be a light to others. They don’t seem to need that, though they might appreciate it.

A lot of people don’t really feel that comfortable around special needs people; they’re not sure what to say, how to talk to them; it can be unsettling, uncomfortable. But they are settled, they’re comfortable. We should notice them, because they have a lot to teach us. But I can’t tell if they care that much whether they’re noticed or not.

Some of my shy EF students prefer not to be noticed and are terrified of speaking in class. They'd rather not be acknowledged; it's easier...no pressure. Some love the attention, love working the crowd. Some of the Evergreeners that come out on sunny days to juggle, dance with tribal drums, do yoga in the center of campus, or hold up protest signs, they want to be noticed, I think, or they wouldn’t do what they’re doing in the most visible spot on campus when there are other, more secluded places they could go.

I think that this special needs community does want to be noticed, because…they’re human. But their easygoing nature is enviable, and if they crave attention and acknowledgement from others, it seems to take a different form.

Flo and Wilhelm

Several months ago, maybe last summer, I decided to feed some bread crumbs to the ducks at my apartment complex. I’m not sure that this is ultimately the smartest or kindest thing to do, but it’s hard to resist them and the way these creatures, normally fearful of me, slowly gravitate toward me, definitely a bit suspicious of me and reactive to any sudden movements on my part, yet becoming progressively bolder in their proximity to me the more food I give them.

I don’t think these ducks have forgotten me. Actually, there are two ducks in particular that I’m pretty sure are my guardian angels. Flo and Wilhelm. I see them everywhere. I mean, I think they follow me. I’m sure it’s the same pair. Wilhelm with his green head, Flo with her gray colors.

Sure, maybe all mallard duck couples look like this. But I’m sure it’s the same ducks, following me around Olympia. I see them at my apartment complex of course. I don’t honestly remember if these are the same ones from my feeding months ago, but Joann’s pretty sure they are. I like believing they’re the same ones. It’s a convenient belief.

A couple weeks ago, I saw them downtown, a few miles from my apartment. And then I saw them this morning in yet another place. I’ve been ambitiously waking up at 5:40 every day this week to exercise. This morning I was in the woods near my apartment doing sprints, jumping jacks, dance aerobics, and pushups. During one of my sprints/jaunts, I saw them, behind a large mound of dirt, just sitting, motionless. I might have woken them.

Flo and Wilhelm. I’m sure they’re my guardian angels. They probably want me to notice them. Maybe they want me to notice them noticing me...to feel reassured that I’m not alone, I’m never alone, that my life is a shared enterprise. They might want some more bread too. I only feed them 100% whole wheat bread. And only the heels.

Dragon Boat Racing: A Metaphor, Probably

Along with several fellow teachers and students from EF International, I have joined a dragon boat racing competition, hosted by Saint Martin’s College in Lacey.

(Don’t know what I’m talking about or need a visual? Link: Dragon Boat Images)

We are very much a “rag-tag bunch” of participants, all ages and sizes (and English-speaking abilities). I don’t think we have any illusions of winning, for the most part, but probably staying afloat and moving in the right direction would be signs of victory.

The event isn’t until the 28^th, though we had our first practice this past weekend. It was…interesting. A lot of things struck me. I’m not sure how much of the following is actually about dragon boat racing, and how much of it is not about dragon boat racing.

• You must keep your eyes on the lead rowers. If you takes your eyes off of the lead rowers, you, and the team will falter. It’s tempting to look at the water, to focus on your own paddling. You must stay focused on the lead rower.

• Success is about harmony. If one person gets out of sync, out of rhythm, there can be a ripple (no pun intended) effect that causes other team members to become out of sync, threatening the success of the team.

• If one person is out of sync, you can’t began to mimic their rowing, their actions, because then you too will contribute to the problem. You cannot be dragged down by those around you, but must remain focused on the leader.

• It’s not about strength. When padding, if individuals are exerting too much force, not only might they get hurt, but it can ruin the group performance. The goal is togetherness, not individual performance. The group’s success depends not on might but on focus, on feeling the rhythm of the team.

• Not only does the poor performance of an individual—usually meaning someone who is out of sync—affect the team as a unit; it can harm individuals too. I got whacked a couple times in the elbow by the paddler behind me. It may have been his fault, or it may have been mine. Being out of harmony can bring harm to yourself, and harm to others.

• It’s tempting to blame others when you are at fault. Many were quick to point the finger at others when problems arose, convinced they were not themselves in error. In the moment, that can be instinctive—to protect your image, the perception others have of you, and pass blame on to others. Sometimes you just don’t realize it was your fault, in which case—humility and openness to criticism and guidance is important.

• There are many rules and commands given—but they are not without meaning. The caller/captain/head honcho shouts orders—boat-speak—that must be exactly followed. It’s not a lenient, free-for-all type of atmosphere, where we’re told, “okay, just start going now guys, however you feel like that should happen.” Commands are to be met with precision, not just for their own sake, but for the safety of the group and success in the race. In fact, these commands and our responses are rehearsed and rehearsed. Because, getting somewhere close to perfection does not just give us a good chance to win, but also makes the experience more satisfying. And, as I said, it is an issue of safety. Rules, order—these things are imperative to success, to a positive experience.

• Our commander is intense, shouting, calling you out if you’re in the wrong. There is no place for egos, for defensiveness, for insecurity. You must respond with humility and obedience, knowing this is not about you, it’s not personal—it’s about the guide trying to form you into the best “rower” you can be. And it’s not even totally about you, as if you were the centerpiece of the team. You are a part of a team, and your identity is wrapped up with others. It’s a communal, not an individual activity—though the individual is of immense importance.

• Laughter is important. Being able to laugh at ourselves, to laugh at others, and to receive the laughter of others at our own foibles in the boat (paddling mistakes, balance mistakes, missing commands, et al) is important. It does not mean not taking everything seriously, as if the commands weren’t meant to be followed. It just means…not taking things too seriously.

Such is dragon boat race training. Among other things.

Easter Inspires Hope...and Hellfire

Despite the rainy weather these past couple days, Monday—the day after Easter, a tremendously significant event in human history, according to Christians—was gorgeous in Olympia. And at The Evergreen State College, that meant one thing: out came the crazies. The Christian crazies.

Usually nice weather brings out a slew of people doing a potpourri of unique activities—tightrope walking, juggling, drumming, dancing, hula hooping, lounging in the grass. On this sunny day, the only thing that stood out was two young Christian men, seemingly not Evergreen students but maybe locals, maybe traveling evangelists. I’m not sure.

And their message was loud and clear and, not surprisingly, not well received. One day after Easter, a celebration that represents the essence of Christianity, these Christians chose to boldly proclaim that “essence”, as they understood it, to one the most liberal campuses in the U.S.

I don’t share this because I think it’s so incredibly novel, as if these are the first sign-holding evangelists the world has ever known. I guess, I just found the whole scene—and the timing of it—interesting.

Their signs read as follows:

Jesus said, "Not all who say 'Lord, Lord,' shall enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”

Warning to all drunkards, murderers, sex addicts, thieves, liars, homosexuals (and a few other “sinners” I can’t recall): judgment cometh!

Hell is…(I don’t remember this one exactly either…something like “fiery” or “no fun”.)

I first heard about this because one of my co-workers passed me while walking across campus. When I asked her how her day was going, she said that it was going well, until she was yelled at by these preachers and told to repent. It ruined her day, she said. Because, you know, it’s not exactly a “boost” to be told you’re on the path to hell.

When I got to the quad I just watched for a few minutes. There were a few Greeners arguing with them, clearly impassioned and likely unhappy with their message and/or approach. I imagine some were Christians, as I eventually saw a girl sit down in front of them with a sign that read:

I apologize for these Christians.

Later, when I passed back by, another sign had appeared, evidently not from a Christian but someone (maybe) interested in validating his peers:

You don’t need approval from a god.

There were a plethora of students seated on benches and grass, observing the whole scene, some just amused, some clearly upset. Maybe because it’s not PC to be told you’re going to hell. Or because they hate all forms of religion. Or because they don’t like a religion being pushed on them. Or maybe because they don’t like “homosexual” being lumped in the same category as "murder," for some reason. Or maybe they just don’t like King James English.

One might praise their boldness. What courage they have to just “say it like it is!” How brave to not “dumb down the message.” And so on. Okay. I guess if you believe others around you are in real danger, you have to do something, you have to warn them...right?

Courage is a virtue. But courage in isolation might not be. Part of a living a virtuous, godly life includes a harmony among virtues. You can be courageous, but fail to be wise, compassionate, and attentive. You can be courageous and be very foolish. You can be bold and do a lot of harm. Boldness in itself is nothing. Bravery in isolation can be downright stupid and destructive—even evil.

I had mixed feelings about these two men. But I also had mixed feelings about the Christians who were uncomfortable with them, including those protesting the display. I have mixed feelings about a lot of things, it seems.

I felt amused, a little bit, because it was comical, in a way. But I also felt a little embarrassed, like my faith and theirs were implicitly being lumped into one...like they represented me.

But, people are smart right? People know that this is just one way to be religious, to be Christian, right? I don’t really need to worry about people getting the wrong idea, because people have the intelligence to discern this kind of thing.

On the other hand, something like this could also be fuel for those who already want nothing to do with religion, with God, with a community of character and faith…it could just be confirmation of what they “know.” It might inhibit their finding God and the peace, joy, and purpose that might accompany such a discovery.

Maybe these "evangelists" are/were wrong, but still…for all who so well model the character of Christ in a very compelling, attractive way, this doesn’t really endear people to the God of Jesus, if this in fact is an accurate picture of that God—a Being who may have a lot of love to give, but is mostly just pissed off with everyone and throwing a hissy fit about it because his ego is wounded and his project of creation didn’t go the way he wanted it to.

And then there are the Christians who seemed to be pleading with these bringers of “good news” to stop, to see that this isn’t the way. I guess I’m ambivalent toward them too. Because, what really bothered them? What were they protesting? Were they protesting the content? That many will go to hell because they are sinners?

Or were they protesting the delivery? Like, we agree with you, but your strategy for telling people about how wrathful God is is all wrong. I don’t know that I mind the strategy all that much, as if a more “secret, relational evangelism” would be better, where you befriend people, and then when the moment is right, you strike!

As someone more and more compelled by the possibility of universal reconciliation—that God, through Jesus, has saved all and will save all, even if it takes a long time, because God is just that loving, persistent, and committed to fixing and healing the human family—I’m not sure they are really capturing God as I understand God to be. Judgment? Sure. But I expect to face judgment, too, just like the murderers. I just think judgment precedes a happy ending.

Actually, come to think of it, I’m not really sure what their goal was: for people to have a conversion experience to Christ, or to just stop lying and stop being gay...as if their goal was to make the world a little less “evil” rather than “save” more. Either way, it doesn’t matter. The point is that I don’t feel like they gave the clearest picture of who God is, according to my view of who God is. That’s the point, I guess.

Free speech is a good thing, and they had a right to be there. And you know, they might be very good people and be just a bit misguided. I respect their right to preach their message, even if their message pisses me off. I don’t want them silenced. Well, part of me does. But part of me doesn’t.

But the day after Easter. That’s the other point. That’s the part that really gets me, I guess. It’s almost as if, inspired by the message of Easter, they came and proclaimed their Easter message. But it didn’t feel like the message of Easter. So what is the message of Easter? I suppose there are several ways to answer that.

Hope. Expectancy that Jesus' resurrection was a foretaste of what is to come for humankind, that even though we suffer and die, we will thrive and live forever.

New life. That just as Jesus died and came back to life, so we can find a new experience of life, a new freedom from the bondage of sinful, harmful, destructive habits and the opportunity to be healed and made whole, made more fully alive.

Love. A sign that God adores us, advocates for us, believes in us, and is willing to do anything for the world out of sheer appreciation for humankind and out of an unfathomable capacity to pour out love to others.

Fidelity. A sign that God—who called the nation of Israel to be a sign of his presence in the world, who then became incarnate in Jesus and started a “church”, only to have most of them flee in fear and weakness at his crucifixion—has not and will not abandon us. God does not pout, nor give up; God perseveres.

Non-violence. A sign that Jesus’ methods—marked by a refusal to use violent means to achieve his aims—were legitimate, right, and good; a validation of the way of peace and a condemnation of the way of violence.

Protein. Because, eggs...right?

However you want to frame it, the message of Easter should comfort, inspire, and empower. I guess these two young men’s version of the Easter message inspired something in people and maybe empowered a few, thought probably comforted even fewer.

In church on Palm Sunday, I, as part of a very moving segment of the liturgy, repeatedly shouted along with the congregation: “crucify him!” I assumed it to be and experienced it as a means of identifying with those who violently wished for the demise of goodness that day, an admission of my own potential for evil, and a call to humility.

We all get it wrong at times. We are often on the wrong side of an issue. Our methods are often flawed. Just as I may have the insight to perceive these flaws in others, I hope I can recognize my own flawed perspective and methods.

But some messages are more flawed (and potentially more harmful) than others...right?