Friday, January 8, 2010

Like a child…

If you’ve never been, I highly recommend a visit to the Children’s Museum in St. Paul. Bring the grandkids, the neighbors’ kids, do whatever it takes. Our hometown Children’s Museum is something Twin Cities folk should be proud of. You can trust me. I’m an uncle.

We went there recently since, as you may know, Tabitha’s family had come to town. Between everyone, there were six adults and four young boys- ages 15 months, 15 months, 3 years, and 5 years. The weekend after Christmas actually brought two trips to the Museum, my first ever encounters with that establishment. I won’t bore you with the details. Suffice it to say that one room was filled with dinosaurs (always awesome!), another had a leaf-blowing machine that occupied kids for hours, still another was involved inordinate amounts of splashing, while the highlight was when we made our very own thunderstorm. Very cool stuff. By the end of both afternoons, I was exhausted. But the energy spent was worth it, for both the children and the adults. We laughed a lot, learned some, laughed more, and experienced all kinds of wonderment and awe. It only cost nine bucks, but there’s no way to assess the full value of such moments. Who knows just how much was learned, or what skills the children began developing? Or the confidence gained? You can’t peak into kids’ heads, or their futures, and you don’t need to. The experience was worthwhile in its own right, I’m convinced, regardless how much the boys retain in their active memories.

One takeaway I do hope, however, that sticks with them is the basic philosophy of this Museum- “Sparking learning through play.” I like that idea, and wish we’d all take it more seriously. Of course, for young children, ‘play’ is a superior learning technique than the books or tests we use later in life. Without mature language or analytical skills, for children things like games, imagination and pretending do a great job of encouraging creative problem solving or teaching cooperation. That, in turn, nurtures smarter, more work-friendly children, which benefits parents, society and the kids themselves. And it’s just good fun!

The problem is that, all too often, we don’t age very effectively. Getting older means we encounter more complex and dangerous situations. Consequently, we develop more sophisticated tools for learning about or coping with these situations, and that’s good. But here’s the problem- Sometimes adults don’t build on top of what they learned as children. Rather, they replace what they learned as kids about the value of play, with the ‘more mature’ skills, emotions and learning methods they acquired as adults. Adults can discuss complex financial arrangements, psychotherapy, political scheming and American Idol, but too many neglect to play anymore. They think ‘play’ is beneath their adult dignity, something left behind in adolescence, like acne or voice cracks. I saw this at the Children’s Museum, when some parents sat off to the side, scowling at the raucous, joyous kids, as if they believed they had better things to do than jump in and join the fun. Too bad.

The truth is, however, that play could really help people nowadays, if we let it. Because something us ‘mature’ adults too often do is settle for what’s conventional and unchallenging. Rather than risk trying something off-the-wall, or using our imaginations to conceive of fantastic new ideas and dreams, we accept the limits others impose on us. We let what’s already happened dictate what will happen. And we stop having fun, the kind that makes your body quiver, or your mouth fall open wide. Play works differently. It revels in ‘what could be,’ or ‘what would be great if…’ It’s a blast! And it fosters an expectation of good things. That won’t make good stuff always happen, of course. But there’s something theologically true about believing that this life God gave you is good and filled with blessing, possibility and joy, even in the midst of pain. So I pray, this week, you’ll take time to play. Let your imagination run wild, and perhaps the Spirit will learn you something incredible. In all things,


Grace and Peace,
Shane
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Love thy enemy…

Because you, probably, didn’t grow up in Colorado, you can’t know how big it is for me to take this week’s vacation. Like last year, we’re meeting another married couple for a week-long ski vacation. These are pals from seminary- she’s a pastor, he’s a construction manager. [Random, but related story- When I told this to one of our members, who will remain unnamed, she responded, “Shane, don’t you have any friends who are hookers?” “WHAT?!?!” I responded. And she explained, “Well, you’re always spending time with other pastors. I just wondered if you had other kinds of friends.” “Oh! That’s what you meant,” I answered. “You caught me way off guard. But be warned, since you went there, I’m quoting you in an upcoming letter.” And so I did. Just another reason I love my job- the unexpected things Plymouth Creekers come up with!]

Anyway, the major change from last year is that this time we’ve decided to forgo Colorado for a week in Lake Tahoe, California- site of the 1960 Winter Olympics, in case anyone forgot. And like I alluded to above, this is a big step for me. Growing up in Colorado, I spent countless hours blustering and bellowing to any within earshot that no skiing in North America could compare to the Rockies. And that was double true for California! For some reason, the mythology of the ski slopes I grew up skiing included a belief that overcrowding was always a function of vacationers from Texas and California (which we felt justified a special disdain for those states). Then, my sister moved to California, and my Colorado-inspired, passionate denunciations of the West Coast only increased in antipathy and volume.

I, of course, had never skied in California, nor had I tested whether the California-tourist hypothesis held water. But really, that was beside the point. Sometimes your loyalties to one place or thing aren’t rational or well reasoned. They’re visceral, instinctual, the product of love and upbringing, not careful analysis or intellectual acuity. So if you told Younger Shane that one day he’d intentionally bypass a Colorado ski trip for…gasp…California. Well, let’s just say you’d have to bring tissues to wipe his nose, and have patience as he tried desperately to overcome his self-disappointment.

It’s a humorous image to ponder, and mostly tongue-in-cheek, of course. But those memories and the impending vacation have me thinking about ‘enemies,’ and especially Jesus’ quote above. Whenever I’m tempted to consider Jesus an everyday guy who never wanted to mix things up, I force myself to remember this quote: “Truly you’ve heard it said, ‘Love your friends, but hate your enemies.’ But I say unto you, ‘Love thy enemy, and pray for those that persecute you.’” It’s a remarkable claim, right?! Radical, even, and not always welcome. I guess when Jesus claimed God’s love was available to all people, indiscriminately, he really meant it.

So what does it mean to love your enemy? Notice that Jesus doesn’t say, “Pretend your enemy is your friend.” That would be foolish, and untrue, and Jesus believed in truth. Nor does Jesus say, “Ignore your enemy, and hope s/he goes away.” That wouldn’t help, because if your enemy is a true enemy, they won’t ignore you, even if you ignore them.

No, Jesus instructs us to love our enemies, and love is an active verb. We’re called to engage these destructive forces and people, albeit constructively, hopefully, and wisely. Can you both fight an enemy and love them? Is it responsible to do otherwise?! I know people whose greatest enemy is addiction. How do you love that enemy? You fight it, of course, though Jesus likely meant people, rather than psychological forces… And what about these recent terrorist attacks, or attempts. Love that enemy? On what grounds? To what end?

No answers today, just comments I hope provoke ideas of your own. Send your thoughts my way. If I get enough, I’ll write a follow-up that includes our collective wisdom on this thorny topic. In the meantime, may your week be lovely, and may you love all you meet. Even your enemies, whomever they are. In all things,

Grace and Peace,
Shane
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