FDR may have said it best when he said, "...the only thing we have to fear is fear itself". It has taken me some time, but I think I truthfully grasp this and believe it. I will also make the claim that if you are a Christian you need to do the same. I have come to the point where I hate fear.
I'll put down a little definition of what type of fear I am talking about: fear is a feeling of danger causing anxiety. There is no part of that definition that I would want to have (I mean how terrible is that word "of", ugh disgusting). Let's unpack it. Fear is a feeling. You guys are reading the writings of a very robot-like person; I assume if you've ever met me, you know this, so the following statements won't be terribly surprising. Feelings are façades for the mind. Feelings have some impact on what you do/how you act, but it is the doing and the acting that truly matters. People don't care if you feel sympathetic, they care when you show sympathy by giving your time for cause (for instance).
Fear is a feeling a danger. Let me first look at the danger about which most people have fear: uncertain futures. People mostly fear not having enough money next month, being injured by various animals, heights, rejection, the dark, flying, or the thought of public speaking. This type of fear is incredibly irrational. There is no reason to actually have fear of something that may never happen, or there is a significant amount of time before the object of fear being realized. Let us then look at the things that are staring you in the face. This is where I may have to only call out Christians. Jesus' speech on not worrying (Matthew 6) refers to more of the first type of fear, but the message is applicable to all fear. If we truly trust God, we must believe that, even despite ourselves, God will choose the best path for our lives.
This is why I have never understood the fear of death (most especially for Christians). Let us first look at a surprising statistic: 100% of people die (OK, as Christians we know that Enoch and Elijah didn't, but we'll round up. Also, I wouldn't hold my breath for being carried up to Heaven in a chariot of fire). I may take it a little far, but I can't wait for death. I won't have to deal with this life any more. I'll be whisked away to paradise. I'll see my savior, my redeemer, face to face. Sure, death will probably be a bit painful, but I think it'll be worth it.
OK, back to the definition of fear: Fear is a feeling of danger causing anxiety. This is where the irrationality of fear makes its impact. If fear had no effect, it would matter if we feared or not. The problem comes when fear negatively affects us. We waste our time, our energy, our efforts on combatting fear. This is the problem. We need to focus that time, energy, and effort on something positive, not something irrational and unhelpful.
Like many things, fear is not something we ever truly overcome. There will always be areas of our life where we fear. Even I have fears of which I cannot seem to rid myself. The growth comes in continuing to fight it, not in ignoring it.
20 November 2011
16 November 2011
Complaint #013: Hiccups
Whether you spell them "hiccups" or "hiccoughs", these things are annoying. I don't really have anything else more to say, other than, if we could find a way to weaponize them, we could do away with waterboarding, bamboo chutes under fingernails, and any other form of torture. All we would need to do is cause someone to hiccup and we'd get all the information we want.
Here's a classic video to add some more content to this post:
This hastily written post was inspired by a bout of the hiccups I endured this evening
Here's a classic video to add some more content to this post:
This hastily written post was inspired by a bout of the hiccups I endured this evening
06 November 2011
Complaint #012: College Football
I'll admit it, I'm a bit lazy on Saturdays. I feel like I've earned it after a grueling week at work (where I sit in a chair and type away at a computer all day (grueling, ain't it?)). Either way, I don't do terribly much on that day of the week, maybe a little grocery shopping, maybe go out on a run, most probably some music listenin', and some TV watchin'. This is where the problems come in. Sometimes I'll watch a movie, but I always end up turning on some good ol' American cable television (though not necessarily a cable television channel). I'm a football fan, and at this point in the year, it is only natural to turn on some football. Saturday, however, only offers college football, the red-headed stepchild of real football (not that "red heads" and stepchildren are any worse than non-"red headed" humans or non-stepchildren, but it is the cliché phrase I'm choosing).
I'll get the oft complained-about aspects out of the way first. I watched a majority of the LSU-Alabama game yesterday. For those who are unaware, currently LSU is ranked #1 in the country and Alabama is #2. The game made it incredibly clear that these two teams are fantastically evenly matched. The progression of scores in the game was 0-0, 0-3 Alabama, 3-3, 3-6 Alabama, 6-6 (end of regulation), 9-6 LSU (in overtime). Does anyone think these two teams aren't as equal as two teams can be? If one hundred games were played between them, the probability distribution of games won by either team would be normal. However, even though LSU was ranked #1 and Alabama was ranked #2 and Alabama played as close to LSU as possible, Alabama, simply because they have a loss on their record, will not be ranked #2 when the new rankings come out this week. Likely it will go to OSU or Stanford (or if we're feeling really crazy, Boise State). I don't want to detract from what those teams have done, but Alabama is clearly still the second best team in the country. They're in the SEC (the Michael Jordan/pre-Thanksgiving-Incident Tiger Woods/Jimmie Johnson/Yankees conference of college football) and they've recorded one game where they didn't win by at least two full touchdowns (and by "full" I mean touchdowns with two point conversions tacked on the end). Obviously, that one game they didn't win by at least sixteen was that LSU game yesterday. Anyone who thinks they aren't number two (hehe, number two (whoa, that's incredibly immature, shame on me)) can write his/her congress(wo)man because I don't want to hear it.
But enough of my Alabama lovefest up there (I was actually rooting for LSU, I'm just defending Alabama because they deserve it), the other big problem we have is the Championship Game. I'll ignore the fact that it changes its name every year (annoying) and focus on what everyone who has ever seen a sporting event has been saying for years: we need a playoff system for college football. It is very likely that Alabama (again, despite being the second-best college team) will not be able to compete for the championship. Boise State will likely go undefeated through the entire year and will not be able to compete for the trophy. The sensible American way of determining the best football team in the country is a set number of one-off games with elimination on the line in every one. These games must ultimately culminate in a game involving two teams, that have not lost in the playoff, playing for a championship. (Also, this elimination tournament must begin with greater than two teams) Every team must be able to control their own destiny from the beginning of the season. Who knows if the 2008 Utah Utes were better than the Gators? Who knows if Boise State could beat LSU in a championship game this year? It's only fair to give everyone that shot (assuming they can put together a fairly decent regular season record (at the very least, undefeated should be good enough to have a try at the championship)).
OK, let's get down to the on-the-field problems, the ones that tick me off when I'm watching on an arbitrary Saturday. The first issue I run into is finding a game that matters. Normally there are two choices of games to watch on Saturday: the Northern Central Wyoming Bricklayers vs. the Alaska Bull Worms or Wisconsin vs. Greg State's Flying Pillowcases. Occasionally I happen upon a game with two teams that matter.
I say "teams that matter", but it is only with respect to other college football teams. And I say "football", but that's only because it is referred to as such in our culture, not because it is similar to the real football played in the NFL. Where I come from, football is referred to as a game (I just used the phrase "referred to" in two consecutive sentences). Games are supposed to be good-natured and fun. College football referees (along with the rules put in place by college football authorities) are placed on the field to suck as much fun out of the game as possible. Case in point: touchdown celebrations. Provided that it isn't obnoxiously gaudy, it is kosher in the NFL. However, in college football, if you enjoy the fact that you scored a touchdown, it's a penalty (if you want proof, view this video of LSU's Brad Wing not getting a touchdown).
But, let us assume that "taunting" before a touchdown somehow gives an unfair advantage to the celebrating team, and let us focus on the pansy rules of college. First is the one-foot rule. In the arbitrary definition of body parts that constitute being down in the field of play in the NFL, there exists one element in that set that is universally pertinent in every out-of-bounds play: a pair of feet. Two feet. Humans are born with two feet (well, the vast majority of them (unfortunately not all)) therefore it makes sense that two feet must be downed in the field of play, as they are our main contact points with the ground. In college, only one foot is required to land in bounds for an in-bounds play.
Personally, the more frustrating rule difference is the any-contact-with-the-ground-constitutes-a-dead-ball rule. I assume this is the name of the rule and I assume it is a real rule because recently I've seen a number of plays involving it. Football is a game of attaining goals/defending goals from being attained. The goal is to take a token (the ball) into a specified region of the field with a specified set of moves under certain conditions within the field of play. Let's say you're Indiana Jones trying to take some artifact to the outside of a cave à la Raiders of the Lost Ark. If you contact the ground, but are not caught, should you not be able to get up and continue to scurry to the safe outdoors? It makes sense that you should, much like in the NFL. However, in college football, at least I've seen this happen a few times in the past few weeks, if you catch a pass/catch an interception/gain the handling responsibilities of the token in some way and go to the ground afterwards, whether a defender of the goal catches you or not, you are down.
If anyone can explain the purpose of these rules, or tell me anything else that would relieve my pain of watching college football, please do so below.
I'll get the oft complained-about aspects out of the way first. I watched a majority of the LSU-Alabama game yesterday. For those who are unaware, currently LSU is ranked #1 in the country and Alabama is #2. The game made it incredibly clear that these two teams are fantastically evenly matched. The progression of scores in the game was 0-0, 0-3 Alabama, 3-3, 3-6 Alabama, 6-6 (end of regulation), 9-6 LSU (in overtime). Does anyone think these two teams aren't as equal as two teams can be? If one hundred games were played between them, the probability distribution of games won by either team would be normal. However, even though LSU was ranked #1 and Alabama was ranked #2 and Alabama played as close to LSU as possible, Alabama, simply because they have a loss on their record, will not be ranked #2 when the new rankings come out this week. Likely it will go to OSU or Stanford (or if we're feeling really crazy, Boise State). I don't want to detract from what those teams have done, but Alabama is clearly still the second best team in the country. They're in the SEC (the Michael Jordan/pre-Thanksgiving-Incident Tiger Woods/Jimmie Johnson/Yankees conference of college football) and they've recorded one game where they didn't win by at least two full touchdowns (and by "full" I mean touchdowns with two point conversions tacked on the end). Obviously, that one game they didn't win by at least sixteen was that LSU game yesterday. Anyone who thinks they aren't number two (hehe, number two (whoa, that's incredibly immature, shame on me)) can write his/her congress(wo)man because I don't want to hear it.
But enough of my Alabama lovefest up there (I was actually rooting for LSU, I'm just defending Alabama because they deserve it), the other big problem we have is the Championship Game. I'll ignore the fact that it changes its name every year (annoying) and focus on what everyone who has ever seen a sporting event has been saying for years: we need a playoff system for college football. It is very likely that Alabama (again, despite being the second-best college team) will not be able to compete for the championship. Boise State will likely go undefeated through the entire year and will not be able to compete for the trophy. The sensible American way of determining the best football team in the country is a set number of one-off games with elimination on the line in every one. These games must ultimately culminate in a game involving two teams, that have not lost in the playoff, playing for a championship. (Also, this elimination tournament must begin with greater than two teams) Every team must be able to control their own destiny from the beginning of the season. Who knows if the 2008 Utah Utes were better than the Gators? Who knows if Boise State could beat LSU in a championship game this year? It's only fair to give everyone that shot (assuming they can put together a fairly decent regular season record (at the very least, undefeated should be good enough to have a try at the championship)).
OK, let's get down to the on-the-field problems, the ones that tick me off when I'm watching on an arbitrary Saturday. The first issue I run into is finding a game that matters. Normally there are two choices of games to watch on Saturday: the Northern Central Wyoming Bricklayers vs. the Alaska Bull Worms or Wisconsin vs. Greg State's Flying Pillowcases. Occasionally I happen upon a game with two teams that matter.
I say "teams that matter", but it is only with respect to other college football teams. And I say "football", but that's only because it is referred to as such in our culture, not because it is similar to the real football played in the NFL. Where I come from, football is referred to as a game (I just used the phrase "referred to" in two consecutive sentences). Games are supposed to be good-natured and fun. College football referees (along with the rules put in place by college football authorities) are placed on the field to suck as much fun out of the game as possible. Case in point: touchdown celebrations. Provided that it isn't obnoxiously gaudy, it is kosher in the NFL. However, in college football, if you enjoy the fact that you scored a touchdown, it's a penalty (if you want proof, view this video of LSU's Brad Wing not getting a touchdown).
But, let us assume that "taunting" before a touchdown somehow gives an unfair advantage to the celebrating team, and let us focus on the pansy rules of college. First is the one-foot rule. In the arbitrary definition of body parts that constitute being down in the field of play in the NFL, there exists one element in that set that is universally pertinent in every out-of-bounds play: a pair of feet. Two feet. Humans are born with two feet (well, the vast majority of them (unfortunately not all)) therefore it makes sense that two feet must be downed in the field of play, as they are our main contact points with the ground. In college, only one foot is required to land in bounds for an in-bounds play.
Personally, the more frustrating rule difference is the any-contact-with-the-ground-constitutes-a-dead-ball rule. I assume this is the name of the rule and I assume it is a real rule because recently I've seen a number of plays involving it. Football is a game of attaining goals/defending goals from being attained. The goal is to take a token (the ball) into a specified region of the field with a specified set of moves under certain conditions within the field of play. Let's say you're Indiana Jones trying to take some artifact to the outside of a cave à la Raiders of the Lost Ark. If you contact the ground, but are not caught, should you not be able to get up and continue to scurry to the safe outdoors? It makes sense that you should, much like in the NFL. However, in college football, at least I've seen this happen a few times in the past few weeks, if you catch a pass/catch an interception/gain the handling responsibilities of the token in some way and go to the ground afterwards, whether a defender of the goal catches you or not, you are down.
If anyone can explain the purpose of these rules, or tell me anything else that would relieve my pain of watching college football, please do so below.
31 October 2011
Complaint #011: Running
Let me first point out that I absolutely love running. If you can get your legs and your lungs in running shape, there is nothing that can compete with the feeling of a run. You feel the adrenaline swimming in your blood, making it surge through your arteries. Various endorphins trick your weak human body into feeling some kind of high. And I won't mention the subjective awesomeness of completing a challenge you have set in front of yourself.
There are, however and unfortunately, a number of drawbacks to running. The first is easy: we, as humans, are weak creatures. Every part of this bag of meat that we are tries to reject this action of running. Let me use my run from this weekend to paint a wide generalization as to why my previous statement is true (because every runner and each run is identical to my race on Saturday). The run actually went fantastically until about 1.5 miles left, at which point, my body (yes, the incredibly well-oiled well-trained machine that it is) wanted me to give up. It started with my right LCL (I assume that's the outside ligament on my right knee, if my great Wikipedia searching and reading abilities are worth anything) screaming at me. Ligaments don't have mouths, so it yells at me by sending a piercing pain through my leg. That's not terrible; it's just pain. Every runner has to come to terms with pain on every run (if you're doing it correctly). Luckily, you're running, so there's something more important on which to keep your mind focused. What's worse is when, with about one hundred yards left and the finish line in sight, your calf starts seizing/cramping up on you. You can't just distract yourself from this one because it's a part of your body not working when you need it to work. Luckily, unlike the time this happened when you were crossing a four-lane highway, it doesn't completely lock up, so you cross the finish line in stride and in style.
That's when the real pain starts. What I assume is swelling in my genetically terrible knees makes it feel like someone is driving a spike into my kneecap. My lungs, despite training, are regretting the extra level of speed I pulled out for the last tenth of a mile or so. Your mind is no longer focused on running, so it now realizes that every single muscle of your legs is sore and continue to be for the next few days. Also, your ankles ache and the blisters on your feet don't exactly feel pleasant...every step you take in the following days. This list doesn't include, through some random miracle, the pain in your shins that can only be accurately compared (though cliché) to Kathy Bates' sledgehammer scene in Misery.
There is one part of our frail bodies I have neglected to mention to this point: the stomach. Our bodies require fuel in order to function, especially when performing physically intensive activities. The stomach, however, hates holding any solid matter (and it isn't fond of much liquid matter either). The best you can do is fill your stomach with pure carbohydrates beforehand and just hope it all stays down. And what's a better food made of pure carbohydrates than mashed potatoes? The problem comes when you wake up at 5:00 AM and have mashed potatoes for breakfast before your 8 o'clock run. Mashed potatoes and Gatorade is not a desired taste combination in a breakfast meal.
On top of the fact that your body hates you for doing something that theoretically keeps it healthier, you also must sacrifice things from the other aspects in your life. The biggest problem is that it takes a lot of time out of your life to run. Let's say you're training for a half-marathon: training by running one takes approximately two hours. On top of that, you need the hour before to get your stomach right by eating mashed potatoes and getting yourself in the right mindset. Also, you need the hour after the run to
Despite all of these things, I still love running. This should help prove the fact that all runners are crazy. No, literally, we are all insane and probably should be committed.
23 October 2011
Complaint #010: The Problem of Pain
In order for this post to make sense for those who are unaware or unfamiliar with the problem of pain, I'll spend this first segment explaining it. The problem of pain refers to the paradox/proof that a purely benevolent, omnipotent God cannot exist because evil exists. I'll break down that statement: if God is all-good and all-powerful, He would use His ultimate power to prohibit evil from occurring. Evil exists in our world; ergo, the aforementioned God cannot exist. Fairly simple proof and fairly logical, and therein lies the problem (for a logic-driven Christian, such as myself).
For those who didn't know, this very problem sidelined me (spiritually) for a good year and a half. I finally got to a place where I could ignore the above proof and just say to myself that He is a mysterious God that none of us will understand Him fully. There's a lot more to it, but it essentially boils down to that. It's at this point that I'll make my (inevitable) plug to Donald Miller and his book Blue Like Jazz (available for $4.00 (incl. shipping) on Amazon) for pointing out that, much like love, God cannot be placed into a formula, He cannot be explained, He just is Himself. But that just isn't a good conclusion to this story. As great as Miller is, he really only taught me a good way to ignore the problem (a perfectly good solution because we can't really solve this problem with our human minds anyway). This wasn't really good enough for me, but the problem was gone for a bit.
Fast forward to today: this problem was discussed at church today (if you're ever in Madison, WI some day, join me at Blackhawk Church downtown (also, I'll take any excuse to promote anything I enjoy in my life)). For some reason, I feel like I got it. Plenty of people probably tried to explain it to me (maybe in the exact same way), but I never really pieced it together until today. So, let's start at the beginning (there is no beginning, but we'll start before our universe is created) and we'll take this God and give Him the power to create animals which have sovereignty to make their own decisions (whatever that means and however that happens) (this kind of leads to a reduction of His power, but if His desire is to create animals with this ability, then it is within His power to do so somehow). Inherent in that previous assertion is the ability for these animals to choose an action which is not in line with the benevolent, omnipotent God. With that, evil can occur. However, despite this, God still has the power to redeem these animal creatures from the beds they've made for themselves (probably with straw and ropes rather than with memory foam). This isn't exactly a logical proof, but it seems to at least try to reconcile the all-goodness and all-powerfulness with the existence of evil in a realistic way.
There's still much more to wrestle with when considering the implications of such a problem. I'm not done tackling the issue, but I'm starting to make progress. I think the next step is reading C.S. Lewis' The Problem of Pain. I don't think I'll ever be able to fully understand even this small aspect in the infinite ocean of attributes that is God, but any closer I can get is better than nothing.
For those who didn't know, this very problem sidelined me (spiritually) for a good year and a half. I finally got to a place where I could ignore the above proof and just say to myself that He is a mysterious God that none of us will understand Him fully. There's a lot more to it, but it essentially boils down to that. It's at this point that I'll make my (inevitable) plug to Donald Miller and his book Blue Like Jazz (available for $4.00 (incl. shipping) on Amazon) for pointing out that, much like love, God cannot be placed into a formula, He cannot be explained, He just is Himself. But that just isn't a good conclusion to this story. As great as Miller is, he really only taught me a good way to ignore the problem (a perfectly good solution because we can't really solve this problem with our human minds anyway). This wasn't really good enough for me, but the problem was gone for a bit.
Fast forward to today: this problem was discussed at church today (if you're ever in Madison, WI some day, join me at Blackhawk Church downtown (also, I'll take any excuse to promote anything I enjoy in my life)). For some reason, I feel like I got it. Plenty of people probably tried to explain it to me (maybe in the exact same way), but I never really pieced it together until today. So, let's start at the beginning (there is no beginning, but we'll start before our universe is created) and we'll take this God and give Him the power to create animals which have sovereignty to make their own decisions (whatever that means and however that happens) (this kind of leads to a reduction of His power, but if His desire is to create animals with this ability, then it is within His power to do so somehow). Inherent in that previous assertion is the ability for these animals to choose an action which is not in line with the benevolent, omnipotent God. With that, evil can occur. However, despite this, God still has the power to redeem these animal creatures from the beds they've made for themselves (probably with straw and ropes rather than with memory foam). This isn't exactly a logical proof, but it seems to at least try to reconcile the all-goodness and all-powerfulness with the existence of evil in a realistic way.
There's still much more to wrestle with when considering the implications of such a problem. I'm not done tackling the issue, but I'm starting to make progress. I think the next step is reading C.S. Lewis' The Problem of Pain. I don't think I'll ever be able to fully understand even this small aspect in the infinite ocean of attributes that is God, but any closer I can get is better than nothing.
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