...and I just liked it too much to not pass it on. In so many ways, this echoes my thoughts on a daily basis. The humbling part in all of this? My first thoughts are often not that of Christ. Praise Jesus, He is patient with me...
If you are unaware of the event that this blogger speaks of, simply Google "Kanye West, Taylor Swift" and (extra, extra!) read all about it.
The following is taken from Stuff Christians Like.
"#619. Offering grace and forgiveness exclusively to people named "me."
Kanye West deserves less grace and forgiveness than I got.
I don’t know the exact amount, unfortunately the Bible’s not terribly clear on measurements. I mean sure, I know Goliath was six cubits and a span, everyone knows that, but when it comes to doling out grace, there’s not a clear form of measurement.
Is grace a liquid? In the songs people sing about God’s love it’s always in the form of water, “fall down like rain,” “wash over me,” etc.
So let’s say that Kanye West deserves one less gallon of grace and forgiveness than I got.
Or maybe a jug. It’s hard to say what the precise amount is but that’s what I was thinking when I heard he ruined Taylor Swift’s moment at the Video Music Awards. After he walked on stage, and interrupted the nervous teenager to tell her about another performer who deserved the award more than she did, a few thoughts popped up. I didn't think about the whole situation a lot, on the Jon scale of thought I gave the incident more time than Salt and Vinegar Pringles but less than the new season of "So You Think You Can Dance." But here's what ran through my head:
“Kanye West always does that. He’s got a history of doing that kind of thing.”
“Kanye West probably did that on purpose, it was staged. He planned it.”
“Kanye West just wounded a teenager, a kid, that is horrible.”
“Anyone who supports him is dumb.”
“He’ll probably apologize but it won’t be real.”
And I felt pretty good hating on Kanye. I got a hit of that, “I’m not as bad as somebody else” drug. I felt better than him and told my wife the whole story with smugness.
But then I thought about it. That was a worst moment, staged or not, that was a mistake and I am so happy my worst mistakes were not televised.
Then I thought about Kanye the person, the son whose mom died. The broken man with a savior who is longing to see a glimpse of him on the road back to the farm. Then I thought about who I wanted to be in the prodigal son story, the older brother who condemns or the servant who helps plan the party? I know which one is easier. I know which one I usually run to. But this time I couldn’t.
Suddenly I didn’t like the first things I thought:
“Kanye West always does that. He’s got a history of doing that kind of thing.”
So do I. I’ve never committed a single sin, a single time. I am a repeat offender. I have a longer history with sin than Kanye does with running on stage at events. Have you ever repeated a sin more than once?
“Kanye West probably did that on purpose, it was staged. He planned it.”
My worst moments were planned. I didn’t fall down the stairs and suddenly find myself landing in a heap of unexpected garbage at the bottom. I made plans. I was deliberate. I set things up that at the time seemed to be what I needed. I did the things that crippled my life on purpose.
“Kanye West just wounded a teenager, a kid, that is horrible.”
He did and it’s inexcusable, but I wounded my own kids, not a 19-year old stranger. I hurt my own kids by working 70 hour work weeks and chasing money instead of them and mortgaging everything that mattered about being a dad. I did that.
“Anyone who supports him is dumb.”
Do you have to support to show love? Do you have to condone to offer grace and forgiveness? Clearly Proverbs spells out a million reasons you shouldn’t support fools and foolish behavior and what Kanye did was foolish. And it'd be equally dumb to judge people for judging Kanye. Are there only two options though? We love him which means we’re pro “running on stage and hurting people” or we hate him? Can’t we disagree with the behavior and offer love to the person? (I think I just invented the phrase, “Love the sinner, hate the sin.” I should put that on t-shirts.)
“He’ll probably apologize but it won’t be real.”
According to whose standards? Mine? Is that what Christ says is the second most important commandment in Matthew 22:39 “Love your neighbor as yourself, only if their apology is legitimate and you feel that their repentance is real?” Or is it written, “Rebuke your neighbor as yourself?” Or is love the thing we’re supposed to do? And let’s be honest, what are the chances that I get to heaven and God says, “You offered too many hurting people grace. You over graced the world Jon. That is whack.”
The more I thought about it, the harder it was to hate Kanye.
So I tweeted and wrote on facebook:
“If we all had our worst mistakes televised we'd give Kanye West grace instead of hate.”
Some people got mad and defriended me (worst verb ever) and some people were cool with that idea. I understand both reactions. I'm not justifying a dumb mistake from Kanye or desupporting Taylor Swift (second worst verb ever). I can only tell you what my experience was because it’s 100% of the experiences I had yesterday. When I heard the story about Kanye, I judged him. I hated on him. I did not correct him or try to offer wise counsel, I hated.
Maybe you didn’t.
Maybe you laughed at how silly and insignificant the whole thing was because it's just a bunch of celebrities, who cares. Maybe you threw on Kanye's “Jesus Walks” and got down like the awkward girl from the rich part of town that inexplicably moves to the inner city high school and has to learn how to dance to survive some sort of all girl gang but ends up falling in love with a tough on the outside but soft and tender on the inside street youth while learning the valuable lesson that if you believe in yourself, anything is possible.
Maybe that was your reaction.
Mine was hate.
And I hate that.
And I love that God loves me like He loves Kanye.
Because we are both in desperate need of it."
Sunday, September 20
Thursday, September 10
I was summoned for jury duty yesterday...
...and have greatly enjoyed the process. After a long, but interesting day, I was selected to sit on a trial that would last about 5 days. As I left the Court House and walked to the parking garage, I considered what adventure lay ahead for me as a Juror. An Urban Juror to be exact.
My adventure came sooner than expected. We were told that our parking tickets could be validated for the county parking garage, however, I had unknowingly parked in a private garage and would thus not be able to use my validation sticker. I had cash, but not enough, and I found myself walking dejectedly across the street to the ATM in the hotel lobby. I was praying that I actually had a debit card on me. We had only recently switched back to debit, and I hadn't even been cleared yet by my banker-husband to use it. Praise God, I did have my debit card. Praise God, John was home when I called. Praise God, he was able to retrieve my PIN number for me. Praise God we have any money at all. Despite all of that, I was charged $3.95 to use the ATM and $15 to get my car out of it's hostage situation in the parking garage. I felt a little financially battered. I mean, here I am, crossing the street, just hoping I can scrounge up enough cash to be able to drive my car home. Parking garages make me a little ill. And when they demand cash only, I get even more cross. I made it home safely, albeit slightly poorer (after all, I had to skip work for jury duty!), and I went to sleep anticipating an eventful day to come.
I didn't realize just how eventful it might be. The trial was...well, I can't talk about it right now. Ha! But, I'm truly enjoying my opportunity to serve my country and judicial system. So, another good day behind me. I walked to the county parking garage (I got there almost 2 hours before the trial, just to be sure of parking in the appropriate garage. Today would only cost me $2!). I sat in my car and had a brief and pleasant telephone interview for an article regarding Perseverance. When that was done, I reached for my keys and started the car.
And I heard...nothing.
That's right. My barely four year old car had let me down already. Maybe I bragged on my beautiful Honda too much. Maybe it's because I had neglected to clean it in recent days (those who know me know that my car is typically meticulous). Maybe it's because I was getting too comfortable. But for whatever reason, the battery was dead.
Dead.
Grr.
Once again, I was stuck in a parking garage, unable to go home. Praise God, I had taken a few extra minutes to fill my gas tank this morning, despite feeling rushed to get downtown. Praise God, John doesn't have class on Thursday nights and was able to come help. Praise God there was no traffic for him as he drove downtown. Praise God that my Dad had bought me jumper cables years before and put them in my trunk. Praise God that the cars next to mine left so that John was able to pull up next to me to jump the car. Praise God for the older man who stopped by to help out because, though we knew what we were doing, his presence was that much more calming. (I get anxious touching car batteries.) Praise God that the line at Wal-Mart was short, and we barely had time to grab dinner at Chick-fil-A before my new battery was installed, and I was ready to go home. Praise God that my battery died today, and not sometime in the midst of my road trip 200 miles north for the weekend.
I don't even want to consider what might happen tomorrow. But if the last two days have taught me anything, I have much for which to PRAISE GOD.
My adventure came sooner than expected. We were told that our parking tickets could be validated for the county parking garage, however, I had unknowingly parked in a private garage and would thus not be able to use my validation sticker. I had cash, but not enough, and I found myself walking dejectedly across the street to the ATM in the hotel lobby. I was praying that I actually had a debit card on me. We had only recently switched back to debit, and I hadn't even been cleared yet by my banker-husband to use it. Praise God, I did have my debit card. Praise God, John was home when I called. Praise God, he was able to retrieve my PIN number for me. Praise God we have any money at all. Despite all of that, I was charged $3.95 to use the ATM and $15 to get my car out of it's hostage situation in the parking garage. I felt a little financially battered. I mean, here I am, crossing the street, just hoping I can scrounge up enough cash to be able to drive my car home. Parking garages make me a little ill. And when they demand cash only, I get even more cross. I made it home safely, albeit slightly poorer (after all, I had to skip work for jury duty!), and I went to sleep anticipating an eventful day to come.
I didn't realize just how eventful it might be. The trial was...well, I can't talk about it right now. Ha! But, I'm truly enjoying my opportunity to serve my country and judicial system. So, another good day behind me. I walked to the county parking garage (I got there almost 2 hours before the trial, just to be sure of parking in the appropriate garage. Today would only cost me $2!). I sat in my car and had a brief and pleasant telephone interview for an article regarding Perseverance. When that was done, I reached for my keys and started the car.
And I heard...nothing.
That's right. My barely four year old car had let me down already. Maybe I bragged on my beautiful Honda too much. Maybe it's because I had neglected to clean it in recent days (those who know me know that my car is typically meticulous). Maybe it's because I was getting too comfortable. But for whatever reason, the battery was dead.
Dead.
Grr.
Once again, I was stuck in a parking garage, unable to go home. Praise God, I had taken a few extra minutes to fill my gas tank this morning, despite feeling rushed to get downtown. Praise God, John doesn't have class on Thursday nights and was able to come help. Praise God there was no traffic for him as he drove downtown. Praise God that my Dad had bought me jumper cables years before and put them in my trunk. Praise God that the cars next to mine left so that John was able to pull up next to me to jump the car. Praise God for the older man who stopped by to help out because, though we knew what we were doing, his presence was that much more calming. (I get anxious touching car batteries.) Praise God that the line at Wal-Mart was short, and we barely had time to grab dinner at Chick-fil-A before my new battery was installed, and I was ready to go home. Praise God that my battery died today, and not sometime in the midst of my road trip 200 miles north for the weekend.
I don't even want to consider what might happen tomorrow. But if the last two days have taught me anything, I have much for which to PRAISE GOD.
Friday, September 4
I met her in college, through mutual friends...
...we shared a degree plan and an excitement for being around people. I remember that she was wonderfully open and friendly and she laughed frequently, regardless of circumstances. One Thanksgiving, as I walked with trepidation into the home of my fiance's grandparents, I was confused to see her sitting at a table, chatting with members of my future family-in-law. As it turned out, she was the girlfriend of John's cousin (and pseudo-brother in childhood). In fact, she had been in the family much longer than I had! As we exchanged hugs and excited chatter, I suddenly had many more reasons to look forward to family gatherings (this is no slight to my incredible family of in-laws; but, come on, the beginnings are always scary).
Over time, I would get to know her better through our shared coursework and random family events. I always felt that she would be a constant, welcome friend. But when John and I relocated to San Antonio for law school, I was more than relieved to know that she and Robert were already there for their own graduate work. We bunked at their house while apartment hunting and ended up renting a place just across the street from their neighborhood. For the last two years, John and I have lived less than a mile away, and we have enjoyed many, many dinners and weekends together with our family members that have quickly become our closest friends.
She and I trained for and raced in a half-marathon last year. That meant 4 mornings a week running together before the sun came up. On our long runs, we often had 2 or 3 hours to chat. Somehow, there was really never empty space between us. For a short while, she subbed at my school, using her skills as a soon-to-be Registered Dietician to update our kitchen menu and serve tasty, healthy food to our students. She recently officially became part of our family when she and Robert married in January. They have celebrated 10 years together, and I have been blessed to be witness to their relationship.
My dear friend, and cousin, has been a constant companion to me in the last two years. She is the sort of friend that I don't like to imagine the future without. I know her to be funny, honest, fantastically opinionated and passionate, overwhelmingly giving and intensely loyal. Over the last two years, we have shared dinners with our husbands, lunches during our work breaks, weekend adventures and date nights. She has been my best friend and a great encouragement in a time that could otherwise be looked back upon with frustration.
Today she came to my school, brought decorations for our lunch table and cupcakes for my students and me and helped me to celebrate my birthday with a little flare. She gave me a beautiful gift and then took me to coffee on my lunch break where she helped me to work through some heart issues that I had been struggling with. She listened while I expressed my confusion, then asked permission to play devil's advocate. Even when honestly probing, she still compassionately approached my situation and graciously helped me to talk through my thoughts. If ever a person understood that I am an external deliberator, she does. I went back to work feeling refreshed (as I often do after a lunch with her) and comforted.
Tomorrow, she and Robert are making "Birthday Breakfast" for me and John before driving us to the airport. I will see her again on Monday when she picks us up, which she insisted on doing. It's someone like her that makes me look forward to coming back home, even when it means leaving my family in Dallas.
To my dear cousin, running partner, lunch buddy, shopping companion, personal stylist, sounding board and best friend: Thank you, Stephie, for being so fantastically fabulous. It is an absolute joy to know you.
Over time, I would get to know her better through our shared coursework and random family events. I always felt that she would be a constant, welcome friend. But when John and I relocated to San Antonio for law school, I was more than relieved to know that she and Robert were already there for their own graduate work. We bunked at their house while apartment hunting and ended up renting a place just across the street from their neighborhood. For the last two years, John and I have lived less than a mile away, and we have enjoyed many, many dinners and weekends together with our family members that have quickly become our closest friends.
She and I trained for and raced in a half-marathon last year. That meant 4 mornings a week running together before the sun came up. On our long runs, we often had 2 or 3 hours to chat. Somehow, there was really never empty space between us. For a short while, she subbed at my school, using her skills as a soon-to-be Registered Dietician to update our kitchen menu and serve tasty, healthy food to our students. She recently officially became part of our family when she and Robert married in January. They have celebrated 10 years together, and I have been blessed to be witness to their relationship.
My dear friend, and cousin, has been a constant companion to me in the last two years. She is the sort of friend that I don't like to imagine the future without. I know her to be funny, honest, fantastically opinionated and passionate, overwhelmingly giving and intensely loyal. Over the last two years, we have shared dinners with our husbands, lunches during our work breaks, weekend adventures and date nights. She has been my best friend and a great encouragement in a time that could otherwise be looked back upon with frustration.
Today she came to my school, brought decorations for our lunch table and cupcakes for my students and me and helped me to celebrate my birthday with a little flare. She gave me a beautiful gift and then took me to coffee on my lunch break where she helped me to work through some heart issues that I had been struggling with. She listened while I expressed my confusion, then asked permission to play devil's advocate. Even when honestly probing, she still compassionately approached my situation and graciously helped me to talk through my thoughts. If ever a person understood that I am an external deliberator, she does. I went back to work feeling refreshed (as I often do after a lunch with her) and comforted.
Tomorrow, she and Robert are making "Birthday Breakfast" for me and John before driving us to the airport. I will see her again on Monday when she picks us up, which she insisted on doing. It's someone like her that makes me look forward to coming back home, even when it means leaving my family in Dallas.
To my dear cousin, running partner, lunch buddy, shopping companion, personal stylist, sounding board and best friend: Thank you, Stephie, for being so fantastically fabulous. It is an absolute joy to know you.
Tuesday, September 1
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