Spirit and Mind?

It's always nice to wake up and find something like this in your inbox:

Apparently, this guy is the poster-child (to whatever extent) for the A&M Foundation's new Spirit and Mind fundraising initiative.  Oddly enough, seeing this doesn't really say either "spirit" or "mind" to me.

A true American hero

Along with my church, I just saw my friend Bill off at the airport, on his way to Iraq.  He's one of the bravest men I know.  And I don't just say that because he's off with the Air Force to serve in a war-torn country suffering a grueling war, but I also say it because I've witnessed in him one of the greatest transformations I've seen the Lord do in a person.  I'm not exaggerating.

I'll let him tell his own story.  I'm just here to say that the man I met a couple of years ago is night and day different than the friend I know today, the one who lights up the sky with some amazing fireworks displays, who nearly puts me to shame by his eagerness to jump off of 50-foot cliffs, who has shown a deep spirit of generosity to those who are truckless.

It's not easy to live life boldly and fully when so much of your life has been lived in a way that's anything but.  (This part is as much autobiographical as it is anything else.)  In my mind, courage to change the 'quality' of your life in this way is the kind that's most admirable.  More impressive even than the kind that leads you to answer the call into harm's way, though that kind is impressive, too.

Bill, yesterday I encouraged you to be safe.  Today I retract that comment.  Instead, I encourage you to continue to live as you've been living: boldy, fully and courageously.  (Notice that I didn't add recklessly, in honor of the spirit of those encouraging you to be safe.)  I'm proud to be your friend, and trust you'll keep to what the Lord has begun and is doing in you.  And I trust him to keep you until you're back with us, at which point, just in case someone hasn't already verbalized it, we'll all be expecting the kind of fire in the sky that we've been sorely missing for a year.  And I'll bring the beer.

Fourth time's the charm: the joys of being an alumnus

WARNING: the post you are about to read contains thinly-veiled bitterness, justifiable cynicism (probably) and pervasive sarcasm.  People with weak stomachs or those preferring lighter-mood-fare are strongly cautioned.  Not recommended for the school-spirited or exceedingly loyal.  Read at your own risk.

Last night a student worker of the Alumni Association at my alma mater called and asked me for money.  I respectfully declined.  Four times.  And yes, I annunciated.

This seems to follow the stubborn-persistence strategy of Abraham pleading for Sodom.  (There are some limitations to the connection, but you get the idea.)  In fact, I don't know that I've ever had to tell someone 'no' so many times who wanted my money.  It was a little exhilarating, really, being all firm and stingy and stuff.

Oh, and they're clever, too.  The students are great conversationalists who can think on their feet.  They're formulaic, but not predictable.  Still, the conversations all tend to loosely move through the following stages:

1) Address Confirmation.  This happens first as the initial 'occasion' for the call, and though it serves a useful purpose for alumni and association alike, is ultimately not the 'real reason' for the call.  You know what's coming.  

2) Caller/Callee Identification.  The caller gets me to talk about what I'm doing now while finding points of connection, in an I'm-your-pal-or-if-we-lived-in-the-same-place-I-could-be fashion.  It just so happened that this particular person last night had a connection to Texas A&M and had even been there recently with her family.  Smooth. 

3) Nostalgic Recollection.  "You remember the good ol' days at the Caf' and the Yo'?  How about those overseas trips, that crazy fun you had?  Ahhhh...."  The caller, now your best friend, tightens those concentric circles, strengthening the lulling effect, painting a broad-stroked picture with both of you standing arm-in-arm with your classmates at your favorite campus spot, preying on those powerful "those were the days" emotions as he/she moves in for the kill...

4) Heartfelt Supplication.  All those fond memories rekindled, the caller pounces.  They start high, and ask if you could help make possible for someone else the blessings you've enjoyed, though not in so many words.  After all, our school motto was, "Freely you have received, freely give."  (Not quite sure how this plays into Pepperdine graduates having the highest rate of indebtedness among all American schools with doctoral programs - which they did a few years ago, at least - but I'm sure it all works out, somehow.)  They work their way down the list of commitments you could make, scripted all the way down (they must know they've got some hard cases out there), until they utter their final plea that the agencies that rank the school look at alumni giving rates to determine standings, to which, though it nearly broke my heart, I was courageous enough to not cave.

Do I sound a little cynical?  I'm just tired of being played.  Maybe it's because of things like the guy who acted like everyone's friend our senior year so he could get the entire senior class to give money in the senior gift.  Maybe it's the fact that one of the older men I knew at the church while I was there (he also worked for the university) died earlier this year, and the first time I ever heard about it was when the Alumni Association sent out an email announcing an endowed fund in his name, painting a portrait of his life as if the only valuable thing about it was his allegiance and contribution to the university.  Maybe it's that I'm still paying for a degree that has cost me way more than it's gained me.  Maybe all of the above.

Ah, the joys of being an alumnus.  What were they again?

In defense of emotional basket-cases

I've had this thing lately that runs through my head: what about people who are mental?  Crazy?  Emotionally unstable?  I have this real feeling of injustice towards them because it seems like life goes on without them just because they can't seem to get it together.

Partly this is a confession, as well, at perhaps some anger directed at God for feeling like maybe he's okay with the fact that some people can't handle responsibility (and are thus deprived of coming into their full humanness) and that he's content to let such people fall by the wayside.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, this post is autobiographical to a degree yet-to-be-determined by how long I can hold out before ending up in the quack-shack.

Sometimes it feels melodramatic to me to make such statements about my mental health.  At other times it seems as if I'm not quite capable of joking, as some people do to cope, about going crazy, and enjoying the joke.

Do I feel like God needs to somehow prove himself or his record on this to me?  As far as my record goes, I think I've pretty consistently been able to unmask my own ironies that disguise themselves as justified ranting and raving at the Almighty.  Which is to say, it kind of comes down to an issue of patience with me.  God never seems to be in much of a hurry to prove himself to me on the things I think are important.

I don't think that means I can't be a little bitter over our culture's worship of self-confidence and how it drives people just struggling not to lose it to appear as if they can conform to the popular idolatry.  Or at least, a little bitter over what I perceive as the church's possible complicity (to whatever degree) in this crime.  Really, maybe I'm just bitter because I know I'm not just the president, I'm also a client.

I mean, am I wrong about this (the cultural pressure to become someone that you and everyone else can worship)?  I seriously wonder if crazy people in other countries are nearly so famous in their cultures as we are, I mean, the ones here are in ours.

This may be one of those posts that far exceeds my normal levels of, "where in the world is he coming from?"  If none of these thoughts make any sense to you without the context, I'd be glad to share more of why I think I'm marginally insane with you some time soon.  Seriously.  After all, misery loves company, whether or not the feeling is mutual.