Ah.... me time

On Visiting

2010-08-20T02:55:00.000-05:00

It has been a week since passion three and I started on the road for our graduation trip to merry old England. There have been a few memorable moments and many ooh aah times when we just enjoyed the road, each other's company and the incredible English countryside. It really is something. The lake district was as ever breathtaking, a train ride over the pennines provided several comedic cultural moments,not to mention blogger fodder but the interesting highlight to me is always the visiting.

In the Midwest we "visit" with people. We do not pay a visit,we just visit. We do not take people with us we "take people with." The truth is, that visiting can reveal and explain for us many of the things that we have "taken with" in life. Visiting is an invaluable and vital reality check to us all. In fact a good visit with friends can bring life and recalibration to many parts of our catalogued misconceptions that we thought were true. History is shared story after all.

This is what makes friendship and visiting one of life's great pleasures to me.

For passion three, being there creates the strange and unremitting realization(so necessary
for every teen)that they have a history that is shared and somewhat owned by others. Even at a young age she realizes that actually, she has forgotten much of what formed her and discovers that in finding out who you are, it is oft times best to see yourself through others' eyes.

The dearest friends are those who have shared your history, and can play it back to you with
footnotes, explanations and sometimes, corrections. It is all too easy to misframe our history or to lose our balance on the tight rope of memory. Our history comes with feelings, emotions and perceptions that are not facts, however strongly held to be so. A visit with those that have shared those memories can sometimes reverse the sinking of the good ship ego. Visiting is like nectar and ambrosia to the wearied heart. To hear from those who have known you, love you, and only desire your best is medicine and family, and not be missed for anything.

Live life to the full, memories included. Understand that its on the foundation laid in your past,that you will find the boundaries of your future yet to be. Tend and maintain those foundations as they provide your life's strength and context.

Remember your old friends, honor them,consult them, hear them, visit them.

Okay I know its been ages.

2010-08-09T17:17:00.001-05:00

The Joy of a Mid western summer

When the winter is here you all wish for a change
But the summer's wet calling may catch you as strange.
In the depths of the winter its so dry like desert,
A white coated landscape, a starched linen shirt.

But the summer can catch you not ready or primed
Which tornado and hailstorm are apt to remind.
Its damp, dank, and steamy, the blame the dog days, .
Humidity, torpidity, to walk is a slog in multiple ways.
Smells, swells, quells any and every impulse or drive,
Rains, drains and siphons your will and melts your urge to survive.

Seattlites grumble about their dry rain,
In Phoenix the dry heat will itch and cause pain
but here in the midwest despite being so nice
Our precip is always too much or too ice.

Temperance is nice with weather too you know.

Heritage legacy and context

2010-01-21T19:34:00.002-06:00

I had the pleasure recently of sifting through countless piles of old photographs. They are countless for two reasons. Firstly because there are a lot of them and secondly, because every time I try to count them someone keeps moving them somewhere else. Significant occasions writ in black and white, or in fading vivid colors you are sure your relatives never dressed in, are all part of the joy that it is, to work through a visual record of your genetic heritage.

Fading, shiny papers from exotic places, transport me back in time to distant places and ages that a strand of my DNA experienced in another life. Now, somehow, they are strangely connected to form part of the strands, that carry the information that form the building blocks of who I am physically, and in so many ways, spiritually also.

Weddings of long divorced people, mingle with baby christenings of people long buried, in one wonderful blurry mosaic, a picture of life, history, legacy and heritage of what it all means for us to be family. Strangely in the reverie of it all, we easily forget the irritating habits, we overlook annoying attitudes, and the demands and the cravings for attention, for we look back with a sense of acceptance and warmth towards our forebears, knowing forbearance will be necessary for us also.

It is with nostalgia and sentimental, reassuring comfort that we look into the eyes of young smiling faces belonging to those long since dead and passed on. Remembering again that a little part of them still roams about in us so many years later on. Truly, our family is our fountain and foundation, our heritage and if the lines of connection remain.long enough, our legacy.

Perhaps understandably, as I move closer to being a part of history myself, I have started to look backwards as much as forwards, for my life's meaning and purpose.

Its not all about me, isn't it?

2010-01-20T16:31:00.002-06:00

Today, a rather sweet and uncharacteristically subdued passion three came to me and said, "daddy, I've been reading that book you gave me and I realize that it is not all about me."

Now those who have the pleasure of knowing passion 3 will know her as a bubbly, vivacious,friendly and chatty person who fills any room she enters with fun, and it has to be admitted, a certain increase in the noise level.(Don't cross her though, just saying!) As one prone to entering the room with statements about what one of the multifarious celebrities she follows are doing this week, for breakfast or some such, this was a rather different tack or opening salvo. It was not however an unwelcome one and in fact gave me pause to think. Reflection, self effacing comments and humility are not the usual bill of fare when dining out at Lou's cafe, but it was sincerely delivered and despite my erstwhile joking, sincerely received by me.

I thought for two minutes on the wisdom and revelation expressed in those words. For some of us not a new revelation, but for the majority of us one that needs to be revisited through the span our our lives if we are to understand our place in the purposes of God and in the responsibilities we hold in our world, present or future. When the young express wisdom the old are still trying to learn, it strikes me sometimes and humbles me once again.

She is right of course. It is not all about us at all.

I had a a friend once who used to love to say a particular put down when some poor unsuspecting person asked him something. He would say, "Don't worry about it, your not important enough," then laugh at his gentle put down. Funnily enough though here we find a strange enigma, because in some ways he was right, I am not important enough. This becomes especially true when we look up from Earth, as God looks down from Heaven.

As I look up, I sense like Isaiah, the Lord, High and lifted up and I can not help but say to myself, it really is not all about me. However when God looks down upon us all, one by one, hair by hair and cell by cell, I perceive that the love He has for us, causes Him to say, "child of mine, this is all about you."

I guess it is one thing for God to say it, and quite another for me to take this for granted, and think and act as if it was true by any personal virtue of mine. So I find myself, like my passion 3, trying to live aware of the importance that is attached to me by God whilst realizing that when I look at my own needs, desires, plans and hopes, it really is not all about me after all.

I was bought with a price, redeemed at great cost and now, I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.

You see it really is not all about me, its about the One who lives in me. Isn't it?

10 minutes and 43 action packed seconds.

2010-01-20T08:31:00.002-06:00

3xl has a confession to make to you all. I have an obsession that I find hard to control. It only occurs at certain times of the year so it is mercifully seasonal and not a year round problem to me.The other saving grace in this distraction of mine is that I am not alone. In fact on any given Sunday during certain months of the year many thousands and millions of men and regrettably some misguided women seem to lose all sense of proportion and decency and sacrifice their time, vast amounts of money and energy on this, my particular failing. I am referring of course to football of the American variety.

On first uninformed glance any newcomer to the game could be forgiven for thinking that this is nothing more than a gladiatorial melee of over "roided" men seeking to smash, mash and bash the poor chap on the other side of the defensive line. The names are strangely code like and they run plays as a noun rather than the verb form for the third person singular.

The player's positions have interesting names, such as quarter back, wide receiver and tight end (tee hee) but the plays are even more strange. You will hear commentators talking about the bootstrap, nickelback, dime, wildcat, blitz as common parlance on the field of play. When you listen to the quarter back calling his "plays" the words used are all code so as to confuse the other side and make them think you are going one way when you are going another. After all football is a game of speed as well as strength, where the average NFL play is 4 to 5 seconds and then it is done.The best quarterbacks can have the ball "snapped" and then passed on in 2 seconds and for good reason, to hold it longer usually results in the embarrassing and sometimes painful "sack" by three hundred pound men at speed.

Now I was one of those who could not quite fathom the point of such a game. I had been raised playing rugby and soccer and as part of the village cricket team I really enjoyed these sports. Football seemed so dumb frankly with little going on. However, over time as I began to understand the strategy and the planning and thinking that went in to the game, I became a firm fan, along with all the other devotees, glued to my set.

I did however ponder why it truly was American Football and why games like cricket had never caught on. Some commentators say soccer will not truly catch on until they can guarantee a higher score. Cricket and rugby however do have high scores but they are not storming the States.

Other commentators suggested that the manly nature of the sport could not be compared to anything from the old country, but try telling that to a rugby player who has speed, bulk, strength. Be prepared to have a getaway care standing by however. Some said it is the fact that sports like cricket go on for too long, and since the average test match can go on for anything from 3-5 days they do have a point, but they are missing the point of cricket as a great excuse for getting away with your mates for several days, with the game as a nice sideline to engage with every now and again. Its more like tailgating during the game. So after all the expert's contributions and comments I found myself personally still unconvinced that I understood why these sports had not caught on here.

Then just released studies brought this eye opening revelation.

The average time of actual play in an NFL game lasting three hours, is ten minutes and forty three seconds.

This is all the more amazing when you realize that before the game many people gather and "tailgate" for three or four hours. That is, they drink beer, barbecue meat in various manifestations and generally bad mouth the opposition whoever they are. For the pleasure of doing this many fans pay a fee of $65-100. Then they spend three hours in the game for which they pay another $50-250 and when all is said and done they get the pleasure of 643 seconds of play or for the whole day about 50 cents per second of play. Now I would like to be paid by the second, 30 bucks a minute, 180 bucks an hour, 900 bucks a day..... you get the point.

So I felt that I had identified at least one important component of the football experience that Americans and we American wannabees so love. Ridiculous expense and costs for sport.

I felt that there was something though still missing from my investigation, and then I struck upon what it was.

Concentration span.

I had missed the central wisdom of American Football and why it was truly our sport. American football consists of weeks and months of prep and hype, drama, and prolonged obsessing about vacuous, so called celebrities along with all their torrid lives' speculations and rumors. Just like real life.

When game day arrives we have multiple experts arguing about outcomes, sharing their oft lacking experience, and making predictions and unsubstantiated claims. Just like politics.

Then finally we get to the game and we are not asked to think too hard or long for anything to happen on the field. Just shy of 11 minutes concentration is required. The majority of the program is about talking about it not doing it, which is then followed by constant replays of the same few minutes of action played over and over. Just like our real life TV offerings.

I had struck on the deep wisdom of American football and its popularity. It was a microcosm of our own American Lives a much ado about nothing scenario where 11 minutes seems like three hours and the bait and switch, redirection of society away from what really matters is performed as sweetly as a Brett Favre touch down to Sidney Rice on the run to the end zone.

Has this shocking revelation changed me as a person, or caused me so to redirect my time for better more meaningful pursuits? Has this voyage of inner discovery, painted large on the great American landscape, provided any catharsis or release from the tyranny of my obsessive devotion to the great vacuity that is enshrined in those 643 seconds?

Ask me in three weeks after the Superbowl. Till then, Go Vikes !!

Interesting times

2009-12-30T08:51:00.002-06:00

The first decade of the third millennium after Christ will soon come to an end and I do not know if it is due to my advancing years or that we just get bombarded with too much information but it seems like a lot has happened. If we were to step in to our Tardis (Dr Who fans unite) and go back ten years we would look on a very different time. Imagine a world without...Twitter, Facebook, Youtube even texting (let alone sexting). Now consider the time it takes to keep up with these new time tyrants and how they have entered the collective western subconscious in a way that we would not even consider ten years ago.

Go back to near the beginning of the decade when there was the event that has shaped much of what passed in public life since then, the 9/11 attacks. They were not the most deadly, or widespread attacks on a nation, consider Serbia and Iraq's treatment, yet in some strange way the surreality of the nature of the attacks almost makes them play like an outlandish unimaginable action film in our minds, at least those of us who were not there, or in some way forever hurt by the attacks. We now close the decade with the almost unimaginable exploding underwear on Nigerians scenario. Almost hilariously surreal because no one but the foolish young man was hurt but it could have been awful and I fly Northwest through Amsterdam all the time, so it is close to home in so many ways.

So now to the great African nation of Nigeria's list of things to work on, 411 scams, corruption as an art form, brutal shariah law in the North etc, we now have a true piece de resistance, young Nigerians wearing exploding underwear on airlines. Interesting times indeed. Thankfully though the decade that started with a bang mercifully did not end with a bang from two day old underwear on a Nigerian.

It is sad to think that it is the violently unimaginable that bookends the decade. Then again there is always Y2K to not think of and the countless generators, safe rooms, gun stores and can repositories that were assembled over that one. I am sure somewhere in this there is a message for all of us.

Maybe the decade actually started with a fizzle and ended with a sizzle....Hmmmm?

For 3xl the thought of hibernating for a few months or the next decade does seem mildly appealing. However when I woke up what would I find?

May you continue to live in interesting times friends.

Next?

2009-12-29T16:25:00.000-06:00

Greetings fellow turkey tasters, stuffing scoffers, cranberry consumers. Let us all bid a hurried farewell to 2009. Whether it ends with a bang or a whimper it ends nevertheless and we all look forward to the next decade. To say the year ended inauspiciously would be an understatement worthy of someone from my fair isles. Yes we are still in the dead zone between Christmas and New Year, Kwanzaa suspended and Hanukkah held looking to a decade we hope will be more Gator, and less Lemon-ade.

So what now? New ideas, better plans, less loans? The possibilities are nothing like endless, but with all of this frugality, fear and pink slip petrification comes a sense of that special magic that every new year brings, that it will be different.

In the regions around Azerbaijan and Iran the new year festival of Novruz comes in the spring time and in commemoration of that time children build fires and jump over them. They trust that the old bad things will be burned away as they leap over the tongal and a new year will begin with them free and clear. For many despite foreclosures and credit crunches there arises in the breast of man a sense that things can change and will be better, and why not!

So whatever 2009 did to you, take five minutes to linger in the luxury or melancholy of it and then turn your head to 2010 and shout out, Next!

Tweelight or other semi dark things...

2009-12-08T16:10:00.004-06:00

Greetings shape keepers, blood keeping, plasma avoidant types, and others who do not suck!!!

3xl has just been subjected to a gratuitously non gorey two hours of duskness courtesy of every swooning tweens fantasy...Vampires that are nice-ish humanitarians and werewolves that are really protective not predatory moon howlers.

Yes you know what I am talking about, the latest celluloid manifestation of the mormon who should know better's work of fiction, New Moon or in Taylor Lautner's case, New Swoon. As if it was not bad enough to have to put up with everyone and his lycanthrope's fawnings about his tremendous six pack, washboard or whatever else we want to call the dear lad's tummy, I then had to watch the blessed film with my 4 passions. Yes it was too long, too much teenie angst and not enough action for a 3xl movie and all that pining stuff, groan. Get on with it, bite her, we know you are gonna!!!

I found myself rather like the "Whatevertheairy" mafia vampires, who looked on Belle with blank uncomprehending stares, unable to pierce her mind, as I often found myself staring uncomprehending at why I was still there after two hours, maybe it was contagious. The counterpoint of the intense, conflicted, urbane and artsy vampire with the outdoorsy, earthy wolf man really worked. It was a kind of Romeo and Juliet with some competition thrown in courtesy of "team one or the other" and all makes for a young girl's romantic fancy.

I realize that this has been a runaway success and I pondered a little at it and its rather dark greeny beige vampires and all too angry wolf men. The book's name is rather telling after all. Meyer has created a world that is neither dark nor light. It is twilight, the realm between darkness and light neither fish nor fowl, neither really vampire nor lycan. The rash of similar things recently on tv and in the movies where we have some really honest to goodness nasty examples of bloodsuckers and shape shifters and then like the Twilight version, those that are in control or just misunderstood has been an interesting phenomenon.

They are the nice vampire looking for acceptance, seeking to control their habits and curse, or they are the wolf man that justifies his brutality and bloodlust by adopting the guise of a guardian, that is unless you are too close and make them angry and then watch out and mind the face, as one hapless girlfriend found out.

Was this not ever though the ploy of the deceptive? Create a PC monster that can not be held accountable if it gets a little angry, but generally is fine. Is this not not the sanitized, I can live with this kiddie friendly version of every schlocker, gusher hacker movie that parents would never watch themselves let alone let their kids go to? Ah yes you got to hand it to Stephanie she hit the nail really near the head. Here is a horror movie without horror, a blood fest without much blood and we can all feel fine about watching that ....

But remember that a sanitized, cleaned up, airplane version of a bad movie is still a bad movie even with the bad language, blood and bodies taken out. It is just that much more justifiable to ourselves and our kids, and after all, not being seen for what you really are, is all part of living in the darkening, dusky world of twilight, zone or otherwise.

I guess that is why the Lord told us to walk in the light, since we ourselves are the fruit of the light and have no fear of being seen for what we really are...unlike some non people...

So here's to all us middle aged, laid back, submerged six pack toting, call it what it is, dads out here who have been made to watch the latest installment of Meyer's horror lite books. Lets keep calling our kids back into the light rather than allow them to become the next blood sucking promoter's prey in the twilight.

Uncomprehendingly yours 3XL.

Stikin it to Da Woman...

2009-08-09T22:09:00.002-05:00

Greetings readers, 3xl here again with another rather skewed look at life and all things sacred, secular, mundane and maddening. Since Garrison Keillor took a week off his column, I thought that someone should step up and save the day. So here I am.

I was talking with passion one and some friends today and the subject of male facial hair came up. I am not an overly hirsute gentleman but I do have a bit of hair on the old visage and I have in recent days as part of a transition time decided to try something else with my beard and hair.

I have begun to grow them a little longer and in keeping with my bad boy biker and muso image I may shape or braid or do whatever with them, though I have as yet, not decided. The very mention of some of these options sent passion one in to paroxysms of defiant complaining and calls of no no, do not do it.

I wondered what all the fuss was about and then I realized. This hair thing, adornment, metrosexuality or whatever, was actually a sacred place of female domain, a shrine to their beauty and place of power and clearly this was a crossing over on my part into their turf and thrall. I realised that all this perming, moosing,gelling, curl up and dyeing was actually a point of independence for women. It was their way of expressing their independence from the over bearing unfeeling male dominance that they had long suffered under. They were not just adorning, they were sticking it to the man!!

That hundred dollars you would not let her spend on chifon drapes seemed to be an easy victory until ....boom ! She returns from her hair appointment with a multiple foil with straightening and up do, highlights, low lights and a few imbetween lights. That all in essence spells lights out on your deceptively easily won drape battle. What you kept off the wall ended up on her head and the wife carves another notch on her hairbrush.

I know what you are thinking, this guys had too many wheaties in his hyper-bole, but look, even her hairdresser is from Russia, so what do you expect from those revolutionary types but sedition, class struggle and extortionate hair dos.

So I found a way to take back that ground and declare my independence. I have stormed the beaches and taken the ramparts of their female hegemony and autocracy over hair and I am striking a blow for the Shawns and the Buzzes of life who have been so long repressed by the tyranny of women over their facial hair. Hands off my body you hair baronesess, you hirsute haridans.

It is coming out and there is nothing you can do about it. Finally those bristles can peek out of that closeted chin they have so long hidden in, without fear of the blade or the scissors. Show your bearded pride and curl twist and catch all the food you want. You are free at last.

Yes the hairy men of the world are not just messy lazy slobs who can not be bothered to shave and cut. We are freedom fighters struggling for our rights to male vanity and stickin it to the woman. Care to join us?

Hero or Narcissus hhmmm....

2009-07-07T17:50:00.003-05:00

Dear Readers,
Today I have an unlikely hero's tale to share with you and some thoughts to go with it. If you were raised as I was, with tales of Robert Bruce and his tenacious spider, or Sir Winston with his "never never never give up" and countless other tales that basically end up with the moral "if you do not succeed, try try try again," then you will perhaps understand more of the little hero in my blog today.

Whilst sitting in my living room the other day, I heard a persistent tapping at the window. Now mind you, our living room window is ten feet off the ground so any tapping there is a cause for some alarm. There was however, no maniac on stilts seeking to gain entry but merely a young green finch who for some reason seemed very insistent that he was to be let in. I stood up and he flew away, but two minutes later he was back.

The next morning I got up and opened the blinds on the window and within two minutes there was a tapping at the window again, my little muse. This continued for three days and still does.

We tried to deduce what it was that so attracted the little fellow. There were some flowers, but they died and still he continued. We then considered it might be the shiny gold bowl in the bay window that was his bait, but that was moved and there was no abatement of the little muse's attentions. At one point another larger bird came and attacked him, and for a few minutes he was dissuaded but no sooner had the big bird gone than my green finch familiar was back again.

I pondered for a while on my own showing in the tenacity stakes, and about whether I was a quitter who.....quits, or a little green finch who can and does, despite the odds of breaking a five foot tall double glazed window with his little beak. I then was brought down to the ground by Passion number 2, who in her own inimitable way, broke the spell.

"Stupid bird keeps seeing himself in the window and wants to play!"

So this brave dogged obdurate display of 'stick to it ness' was no more than a stupid bird brained animal deceived by double glazing. As the old joke goes, don't be downcast, maybe your whole life will serve as a lesson to others!!!

He was Narcissus not Hero. A Muse who was a morality tale after all.

I wonder sometimes whether we know the difference between the two ourselves.

Faith or stubborn demanding of our will in spite of all that is contrary to sense.

Holding a vision firm that we have been entrusted with, or willfully refusing to understand that our need to succeed has become our vision and we did not know it.

Single-minded and focused, or blinkered and stubborn.

In the words of another faithful one, Lord grant me the wisdom to know the difference.

From 3 xl who usually runs away from his reflection, a happy musing to you all...

Old Faces Old Places

2009-06-18T02:53:00.003-05:00

We are now in the dregs of the Daddy and Boop do Britain tour that was recently undertaken with passion 2. It was a time to celebrate a High School career successfully completed, a time to renew old acquaintances of the ne'er forgot variety, and a chance for passion 2 to revisit old friends and significant way markers in her yet uncompleted life.

Of course this is a time for 3 xl to revisit his old way markers also, those un-stoned Ebenezers of life. If I may I would like to typify this trip as like looking at the soup pot of life and remembering that you have to periodically stir up the good stuff from the bottom of the pot to achieve the full flavor of the soup, and truly understand and perhaps reveal the many elements that go in to making of a whole soup, or a life, as it were.

Of course there are always surprises and changes. Potatoes and carrots can get a little softer, squishier and grayer over the soups cooking time and we are not exempt from that process also. Of course some say we came from primordial soup or ooze but I prefer to look at life as a bit of an oozey' soup, some points proving to be more viscous than others, which seem to flow very quickly. The end result however tends to be far more tasty than when we started and there is nothing that ruins a soup than cooking too little or stirring too much. Life can be like that I fancy.

Some of the things thrown in at the beginning seem to take a lifetime to cook, and are just now starting to give their full flavor, and some things added hastily at the end will prove to be worthless in their contribution and were just added for that quick boost or garnish. If it takes time to cook it is worth the wait, never rush it.

Take note that the best soups have many things added from many places and it is the combination of the many that makes the one soup the most exquisite and tasty, and that the complexity of the ingredients, will in its time, produce the simple result of of one good tasty soup, or life.

Roots, shoots, vegetables spices and all...

Most importantly, remember that everything in that soup needs to be held and suspended by the water that causes each ingredient to interact. Life is no different and the living water that Jesus talked about is not just a good idea, it is the one thing that can not be left out, or our lives like our soup can end up a little dry, then brown, and in the end burned... That is the last thing I would want for anyone. So add those ingredients as you go, cook and give time for the flavor's life to emerge, but never forget, without the living water it will sooner or later burn.

If you are like passion 2, still learning what goes into a good soup, or like 3xl, remembering some of the things that made him as tasty as he is today... I wish you a fond and loving happy cooking from England.

Here we go again

2009-02-10T07:05:00.002-06:00

The time has come and can no longer be delayed. Once again the annual assault on our stoic denial of feeling for our women comes around again. It is not that we do not love our women, it is just that to have to sit up and perform our duty does not always go well with us, okay me. Perfunctory is not where I live...

Valentines day seems to have noble faith roots. The thought of a man marrying believers against an unrighteous repressive edict, strikes one as a brave courageous valiant act. The question is how did we get from there to pajamas in a tin, a weekend in Vegas or some genetically modified chocolates?

I would not want there to be any hint here however, of me not loving Mrs 3xl. Far from it, she is my lifelong love and one for whom nothing is too much. Its just that when someone has to tell me to perform it feels like I am being molded in to a shape I do not want to go, or asked to fall in line with no other reason for it other than it is expected.

For 3xl a call to do the expected is never warmly received. Ever the quiet rebel, and against the flow 3xl would like to find other times and ways to honor his missus when he wanted to do it and in the way he wanted to. Now what does that say about me... who cares, I'm a rebel remember.

So in uncharacteristically short style I will write a poem for this auspicious non occasion and trust that after 23 years, Mrs 3xl knows me well enough to laugh at me rather than beat me up.

Throughout the ages some have gazed up to the sky for signs,
Some lovelorn souls have gone outside to ponder and opine,
While others struck by cupid's dart gaze on their love and sigh,
But now in modern practical days we send a valentine.

When I was young and gauche and sweet and found affection hard,
When girlish giggles and smiles and looks could silence a nascent bard,
When friends would nudge and wink at me, and point from places far
Then in those days I do confess, to purchasing a card.

But now when love has been displayed for many a wondrous year,
When the love of my life is constant, and my affection's focus clear,
Is it right for me with some disdain to stand and give a sneer,
Or is their space and no disgrace to pander once a year.

Roses are red violets are blue,
my love for you will always be true.

Happy Valentines day dear.

Fighting the good fight

2009-02-03T21:17:00.004-06:00

Greetings Dear Readers,
it has been a few months since we last spoke and I have been remiss in my blogging. I have no excuse other than a busy life, some illness and the holiday melee, but that is over and I need to vent my literary spleen, drain the vein and get the writing chicken kicking, as they apparently say.

I had a conversation with a colleague recently and the subject of the fastest growing sport came up. If you have no idea of which sport I am referring to, it is Ultimate Fighting, cage fighting, freestyle martial arts etc...

Apparently those who do statistics have decided that it is the fastest growing sport. Of course this is like making the sensational revelation that 4 plus 8 equals 200% growth, and that makes it the fastest growing...whatever it is.

Certainly though it is a "sport" that has grown in popularity, but so if you ask the NFL is dog fighting.

The question was raised by my colleague regarding a Christian response to Ultimate Fighting, and that if Paul did not speak about gladiatorial brutality in his letters from Corinth, was it such an issue.

My personal Christian response to a crazed, snarling, muscle bound barbarian would be to run but many, even in the land of faith seem to have considered this fair game as a platform to share their faith, no doubt committing every opponent's bone they break, to the Lord for healing.
Experience though tell us that some have sanctioned promiscuity, breaking bricks with their heads and selling themselves as slaves to share the faith, and knowing this, helps us see that human ingenuity knows no bounds in supporting its actions.

Why would such a brutal and cruel sport that's sole purpose is to beat one other human being in to submission, even be considered conscionable, by a modern society let alone a Christian in modern society and why would some pastors name themselves amongst the roll of fans of this activity.

Perhaps we need to look to the nature of man in contemporary society for some of our answers. Mr Hunter Gatherer of old has had to develop other skills and seek other ways to display prowess in this modern jungle. The rush of testosterone comes infrequently now at sporting events or tax audits, but rarely as one is chasing or being chased by a large animal intent, on making you or evading you as a dinner option. The constant demands for peaceful coexistence through life and in the work place, at school, and on the street and the zero tolerance sanctions that enforce it, jar at a man's sense of expressing his physical power and in some senses brutality that lurks all too close to the surface, looking for a little outlet for aggression.

We talk about the mild mannered man who goes postal, the straw that broke the camel's back or the jilted quiet man who silently and brutally kills without warning. We strive to understand Columbine, Virginia Tec. and the like. He showed them... but what ? That he is a man who can not be messed with, left, spurned or abused, a man who can only inflict pain to show that he is a "real" man, thrashing like a man who feels his impotency, and powerlessness to succeed, and shows it all the more clearly as he acts out?

Film culture explores this phenomena and provides us with hundreds of vengeful quiet people who have a death wish...no, not theirs, or who only attack because someone else draws first blood. Of course, when payback time came, the result was rarely commensurate to the situation.

Films like Fight Club explore what is in the nature of man and his desire for empowerment, approval, validation and worship as the champion, the most brutal of them all. Yes this desire for all out fighting may actually come from the sense that they have lost what it is to be warrior and for many men even Christians that is a cry that needs to be heard and answered, an energy that needs to be channeled.

Books that seek to identify the place and power of men, Fathers, sages and kings within a Christian context and parameter are perhaps a quiet yearning for the same thing that is in the heart of the common man. Leadership is male... depending on your view of a leader, world inspired or not.

So what is the object of Ultimate Fighting and does our desire as Christians to watch it and fantasize about being able to last ten seconds with these guys come from some thing lacking in ourselves. Has our understanding of our faith become a little too meek and a little too mild. The training of bodies and the discipline required to be a fully functioning fighter is probably no more rigorous than what it would take to be a fully functioning disciple, it just seems that we do not believe that, or that our view of a disciple's life is one of restraint and passivity rather than storming the gates of hell and bringing life into the darkest and meanest parts of the Earth. We perhaps envy the wrong kind of glory and what it might mean for us to have it. 3G may be a phone system but it also speaks of the Gold the Gals and the Glory,3 pervasive and powerful elements in creating our meaningful validation context.

Our desire to conquer as men is very strong in us, but our desire to Father and stand in the face of the onslaught of the demonic host should be no less strong, and certainly no less dangerous than three rounds with the Brooklyn Bomber, the Punxatawny Panther and the Sacremento Smasher.

We do have a powerful brutal adversary.

We do have a task to do that will take no less commitment and cost no less in terms of our devotion and sacrifice to achieve, if we are to be fit to vanquish this foe and take back the captive from the warrior.

As Paul said, our enemy and our fight is not with flesh and blood, and our meekness is not passivity, it should be like that of a horse trained for riding and work, but no less strong or vital. If we want to fight we have no lack of opponents, but they do not usually come at us in cages with boxing gloves.

In the spirit world the gloves are always off, the rounds last a life time, and the stakes are eternally high.

That sounds a little more "Ultimate" to me... Ready, ding ding, round one!

Marching to the beat of a different drum..

2008-10-18T17:54:00.002-05:00

I (and probably only I) have long held the view that though considered different, and perhaps odd, I am basically misunderstood rather than just bad. you know the kind of thing we used to say sarcastically at college about Hitler, Pol Pot, Stalin and the like, rather than own up to our own irritating proclivities and idiosyncrasies. When a man who ended up becoming a dear old friend saw me on the first day of college, he said, "you must be an engineer.." of course if he knew that I had the mathematical competency of a frog, he may not have said that, but looking at me, he could be forgiven for thinking so. How was he to know, I am in fact an artist trapped in the body of a cage wrestler with an IQ of 165, but it was an honest mistake.

All that to say, that appearances can be deceptive, and one always needs to go deeper. The world is complex and people are no different. I had however noted some common traits though that I noted in all people, so I framed a concept to simplify the erratic and complex people of the world in to this rather simple statement.

When you peel back the culture, shave off the training, ignore the environment and skin the outer appearance away... Deep down,everyone is either and artist or an engineer. The problem is that they often hide in strange places and professions, for many reasons, denying their true and inner reality and personhood.

For instance we know that Architects have to draw well, so you could assume that they are Artists, but they can end up looking like engineers with their measurements, calculations and load bearing stress members and all that. An accountant may look like an engineer, with columns, figures and calculations, but in reality could be an artist who sees the flow and form in numbers beyond the digits, who picks out shapes and art in deficits and credits, and through it all weaves a mystical path to the true and beautifully formed bottom line.

Even a theologian can see structure, mathematical precision and linear progression, rather than intimacy, grace, sacrifice and love.

The point I am making, is that we need to deal carefully with each person we come across and look beyond "their profession" in every sense. Then, we will know how best to appreciate them, and know more fully what really drives them. Knowing that, will aid us best in releasing their inner skills and discerning what is their true calling, skill and passion.

Does this hold true at the level of the nations? I believe it can be applied there also. Most would assume that the "Germanic" nations are predominantly engineers and even in music, Beethoven and Bach do nothing to dispel this classification.

The "Roman" nations are clearly artists with their excessive gestures, histrionics and Ferrari cars, and who could ever think that a Lamborghini was a mechanical device rather than the most exquisite pasta. That is the artistry of the Romans.

So what of my own fair nations adopted or otherwise. When I categorize the British or the Americans in this way I find myself calling upon the title of this blog to highlight something I was made aware of that helps us decide which beat we follow and which drum we march to. You see for each and every one of us, there is something that beats that is of the utmost importance to us all, and to which we all must march. I speak of the heart of course. It is in the heart that the engineer and the artist are formed and later, expressed outwardly in our actions. it is also the heart that is the one drum that we will all march to, or...not.

3xl thinks that though we British have had many engineers of world renown, we are at heart rye, melancholy artists, especially we Celts. Americans in general however,are defintely order seeking, mess managing, project coordinating engineers.

Let me conclude with an example...

CPR(Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation...yes I do know) as well as being a mispelling of the acronym for Queens Park Rangers is also something very dear to the heart of all who have died, and lived to tell the tale. The problem is, that everyone has a medical opinion on the best way to do CPR, and "best practice"(you really should!!) changes frequently, depending on which last research survey someone in power decides to go by.

The recommended compression rate, or how often the nice person saving you presses your chest in when you are dead, has been changed regularly and needs to be constanly re-learned which can be confusing. Also the engineer like precision needed for timing the compressions, should not really be left to the free time, improvisational skills of an artist. Some rubric, matrix or key needed to be found to be consistent.

The choices of the British and the American musical aide memoire for this, turned out to be startlingly revealing and fitting. Do not be surprised then, upon dying, if you feel yourself rising out of your body heading for the light in your autoscopic state and hearing two different songs.

If you are in America you may hear the strains of the Gibb brothers singing "Ah ah ah ah staying alive, staying alive, which turns out to be exactly the 100 beats per minute required for CPR. How fitting a choice from the positive, peppy and hopeful, can do Americans.

If however you are jumped on by an English person while dying, please do not be too disturbed to hear the pulsing rhythm of the iconic Brit band Queen, as your last hope of earthly ressurection, sings, "duh duh duh another one bites the dust...." which also has the same beats per minute.

Of course at that point you are already dead, so it should not be too disheartening or demotivational for you, and you may be forgiven for assuming that things could only get better. You will, however, if not one of their success stories, go in to the light humming one of these songs, thinking, ah those engineers, or artists, as the case may be.

3xl signing out saying keep on marching to the beat of that little drum, and keep creating, what ever it may be.

Keeping it Kingdom.. or being Earthly weird...

2008-09-12T20:48:00.003-05:00

3xl has been rather distracted recently with visitors and things to think about. Just this week 3xl had the strange privilege of attending a friend's funeral. I say privilege, because in so many ways it was hard for me to feel sad even though the loss of a dear one like her, was felt deeply by many. I found myself smiling in the midst of the service, rejoicing that a one so loved of the Lord was now with Him and feeling a strange sense of this being how it should be in spite of my heartfelt feelings and wishes to have my friend around.

Her passing was all the more remarkable for its speed. No sooner had 3xl left for Azerbaijan praying for his friend who was a little unwell, did he hear the notification that it was cancer, and then, upon arriving back, finding she had already died, sometime as I was over the Atlantic. Of course in the kingdom of God things are a little different. Events take on a different meaning and significance, and the expected, usual and normal are given a back seat.

It would be normal for 3xl to pray hard for healing for his friend, to battle through the evil of cancer to the good of healing. I mean is there any good reason for anyone to die early? As the sisters said to Jesus, Lord if you had been here then our brother would not have died, but even in that death there was a kingdom perspective that the dear friends of Jesus had not appreciated.

As I prayed for my friend I realized that I was not to battle but to give her over to the Lord that we both served all our lives, to commit her into the arms of the King and the Father and to allow Him to deal with her in His infinite mercy and love. No wonder then, that her passing was remarkably quick and merciful and for that we are thankful.

The memorial service was full of hope and life and a sense so clearly that this was not the end of anything at all in the life of this dear saint, this was a completion of stage 1 and marked merely a passing to more wonderful things. The family spoke with thankfulness and joy and I noted that this was not the kind of thing that the ones without the hope of the kingdom could ever understand.

Is not all death in some ways loss and defeat?

Apparently not. To those in the kingdom death is merely the release of that which is of God within us, to the freedom it has been waiting for, the falling in to the ground and dying of wheat to rise again fruitful and mature. The eyes of faith see it, and heart of the given over ones know it deep within, though we miss and grieve for the loss of a friend in what is left of our Earthly life.

So why then is it so hard for us to keep it kingdom? What is it about our view of the eternal, that is so obscured by the life we so strive to maintain and preserve here on Earth and why do we still view this Earth and all that occurs within it as if we had never tasted eternity? It is the world that has been pulled over our eyes, a la Morpheus, so that we speak as if we believe in the kingdom but all the while order our lives as if what we saw, smelt, touched and heard was all there was?

Having felt the sting of death of loved ones that did not know the kingdom news, and seen in their eyes the fear mixed with bewilderment and defiance, as they held on tight to the life they were accustomed to, I know that these are not things that we speak of lightly, they cut deep and are eternally significant. They are also the events that have throughout history caused the most heart searching and introspection. Little wonder then, that it was the sudden death of Jesus that had a greater effect than all the acts and words of Jesus in the lives of those that looked on. It was the exclamation point to His life deeds, that gave what preceded it the power and significance that it would have throughout history and eternity.

His resurrection would be the start of an entirely new paragraph, a crossing off the map, that still continues in the lives of all those who claim dual citizenship for a while, before fully entering into the suzerainty of the King in His Kingdom. It is the border crossing that concerns us.

So 3xl speaks to himself when he says keep it kingdom, forget normal, it is much over rated, believe in nothing but that which can never be shaken and walk in the faith that pleases God rather than the sight that reassures me, and remember that just because you are weird, it does not mean you are wrong, in the realm of the normal.

The road less travelled...

2008-09-06T08:46:00.002-05:00

Having been on the road for the best part of two weeks 3xl came back a little battered and weary, from his travels and labors. It is never easy to be a male model and all the photo shoots really do drain the emotions.... Okay just kidding. Lets be honest, 3xl is more likely to figure as a Farmers Weekly model in an article on livestock, rather than doing exotic photoshoots, in beautiful places.

No, 3xl has been hitting the stratosphere and sweating in shiny tubes above the earth because that is what he does in order to be with the ones that he works with most, the Azerbaijanis. Do not worry if you have never heard of them, most Americans have not, but to Mr and Mrs 3xl they hold a special place in our heart.

Now just because of that it does not mean that we are not sometimes fraught with the realities of life in diferent places and there is nothing like a bit of cultural comparison to make you miss what you have and perhaps sardonically enjoy what you visit.

Azerbaijan is in the midst of many changes and upheavals. Some of these are obscured, deep seated mindset changes as cultures collide and the sattelite sneaks in to each home unawares, and some of them are as surface clear as the roads and buildings springing up everywhere. There is almost literally no stone left unturned in Baku, the capital, as the money launderers, property speculators and government facilitators transform the city center for better or for worse into their own best vision of the future, and with no ulterior motives whatsoever.

For the last 14 years upon arriving at the airport I have been met by either dear friends or vulture like taxi drivers, and so I know the drill. You look for a friendly face, or you gather a bunch of taxi drivers around and make them bid for you to get the lowest price. Establish that, and then pick the scrawniest looking one of the bunch, just in case!!!

Then, one proceeds out of the terminal to whatever awaits you in the parking lot. It could be an off its best Mercedes(mercy days), maybe even a more recent Korean import, (Hi and Die or Die You), but more likely, it is going to be some manifestation of post soviet car restoration project, such as a Jiguli (Jiggely)or a Niva (Never!) and who the heck can spell Zaparojitz anyway. in fact one mechanic once said to me that it was the greenest car on the planet, as it is recycled every five years.... I think he missed something in translation or he was mocking me...whatever.

These relics of a time long forgotten, would be unlikely to pass an existence test, let alone an emissions test and they have the carbon footprint of Saskwatch both in the car, as well as out of it. In the Land Of Az, car restoration is not the hobby and domain of the good ole boys in the workshop out back, it is vital.

Our first car in Azerbaijan was a 1975 Nol Alti (Number 6) which was in its 5th manifestation. Yes Azeri cars are all Hindus. They die and come back in another form, usually every five years when they fall apart and are rebuilt. Sadly I have not as yet seen one return as a ferrari, but when it does, you will be the first to know. In fact these Jigulis must be bad, because they all come back looking the same.

One tug on the door handle, will tell you that one tug on the door handle is not enough. You need to disassemble rather than open this door, and as you do, the window falls down or out. As the door opens, it drops an inch or two, and no this is not a design element. As the starter motor whinnies like a horse with a sugar cube stuck in its trachea, before catching and bringing the motor sputtering in to life, all four, make that three, cylinders lurch in to some kind of juddering half life. A few quick stabs on the gas pedal and away we go hopefully, the dashboard dark in the night, the lights turned on and off to save the battery and the car shimmying from side to side as the words roll, yaw, shudder and screech come to mind. The tires are all homages to Vin Diesel's hair style, and traction is what you will be in, soon after it rains, not what they have in common with the road.

So off we go down the road but this time something is different. After 14 years of turning right out of the aiport road, imagine my disquiet, culture stress, and not a little terror as we proceeded to drive straight on, right through where the funky welcome to Baku monument used to be. in shock and awe I was brought to a stunning realization. The first Azerbaijani freeway has finally arrived.

For those who have never had the delight of travel in Azerbaijan, this will be hard to understand or appreciate, but roads in Az are different. You have at most, two lanes, and each one has its own traffic calming features, or chassis destroying, tire shredding, wheel bending features as we prefer to call them. Az roads have frequent places where nice friendly policemen wait with little striped sticks which they point at you, to say stop.

They have wonderful hand held speed cameras that do not work, always set to show ridiculously high speeds(is it possible for a Jiguli to do 200KPH?), just to get negotiations started, on the fine he can get away with(special expedited fee discounts for cash and no receipt). You see if he comes down from the heady heights of the speed that the machine says you were travelling, he gets to look like a nice reasonable guy and you get to pay him less than MRSP(Maximum Ripoff Set by Police), avoid points on your licence, and be on your way.

In fact when 3xl first came to this fun land, there were checkpoints and barriers every few miles and that was really a pain, but a great little earner for the road police.

You see if there are freeways you can not wait by the road and pull someone over with a little striped stick, so a whole segment of a valuable cottage industry is now being eradicated in the name of progress. Breaks your heart it does... But fear not, they have "Gatzos" now, so we do not need little police men and there is no real arguing with a letter in the post from a robot camera.

It is hard to over emphasize the pleasure I felt of waddling allowing on the new fast road in our Nol Dort(Number 4), and meandering accross the lanes to compensate for a missing shock and we were in to town 15 minutes quicker, wow, three lane concrete roads.

Soon they will be all over the land and times will be cut in half for travel and after the initial period of 'acceptable losses' as old cars fall apart, at speeds they have previously not seen before, and find that their brakes were not up to, we will have a new day of travel in Az, A Brave New World.

Thank goodness the president's wife owns the concrete company to ensure that we would have enough concrete for this massive reconstruction. Now there is forethought... No wonder she is called Mehriban...friendly!

Of course it is not all fun in the meantime though. I mean why wait, lets do the whole place at once...before the elections so we can be appreciated properly. Why mess around with a staggered construction project that minimizes disruption, when you can tear up all the roads at once and get it done quicker. You know these kind leaders get things done quickly, especially when public opinion is a little muted round here.

What does this mean for the pampered traveller though ?

In short, it means free vibro masage treatments for every auto traveller heading out of Baku, (does the kindness of these people never end?) In fact they have built in a de-stressing, relaxation element in to the whole adventure of travel now. Instead of frantically rushing to be at your destination, emergency appointment, vital business meeting, scene of the accident, you can take your time, cut your speed in half, enjoy the vigorous shaking and bouncing of our fully featured stone track. You know the way they promote these things, "slow down, relax take your time, you deserve it..." (and...complaining is futile in any case)

Also, did I mention the built in exfoliation features for the skin if you leave your window open in the stifling heat. All inclusive, on any trip out of Baku, you can have those distinguishing facial features and blemishes sandblasted away, as you stick your head out of the window to see where the road went, and to avoid the construction traffic looming out of the dust storm. Travelling by your side though, you can be encouraged by the government cars, kindly modelling for you, just how good it wil be as they speed past you on the newly completed section of the road you are not allowed to use, or ...

the road less travelled.

What's so original about sin....if they are all doing it?

2008-09-02T23:56:00.003-05:00

All the way from downtown Istanbul....here's 3xl back on track after 12 days of enforced blogging silence, and I know I speak for myself when I say...I missed it.

No answer is required from you.

So 3xl was walking into the office in Baku of a local church and he noticed on the desk a book called Original Sin. He spoke with the pastor a little about it and made a wry comment about we evangelicals believing in original sin only until a baby's memorial service then all of sudden we get all Pelagian about it. Theologians never laugh at these things though, but one can always try to understand and declare what you believe the truth is however small your comprehension, in I hope questioning and real ways.

So 3xl did a little study on it and found that there is an incredibly wide and divergent range of opinion on the whole subject. Defining the concept is difficult, knowing that the Jews have never had the concept of OS and still do not is interesting, and even the words used differ a great deal among those who do believe in it, from original corruption, to sin nature, to imputed or committed. From total depravity to pre disposition, I tell you, it can make your head spin if you think about it and great people have strong arguments on every side.

When 3xl did his Law degree his chiseled old Irish Criminal Law Prof threw out a question to us. He said "what is a crime." Much sputtering about law and evil and wrong doing issued forth from the naive assembly, and the prof shook his head and cut through it all.

"A Crime, he said stridently... is a breach of the criminal law..." We all thought duh, because we had grand metaphysical notions of conscience, transgression and intent and guilt, but as far as the law is concerned a crime is not always a sin, but it is always a breach of whatever jurisdiction one finds oneself under as you traverse this world. Good to remember that sin is not law and that before the law there was something else that affected people's notions of what was wrong in their actions, call it natural law or conscience...wherever that came from.

Taking the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil was not a crime and under other circumstances might not have been a sin but disobedience of God's explicit command not to take of the fruit created the line that was not to be crossed. Did Adam have a conscience, or did that get implanted after being caught in fragranto delecti, and was that passed on to us all from Adam, since there seems to have been understanding of what was the right thing, or not, even in the Kids, God after all appealed to Cain to do what was right, thus assuming he knew what was right. No one said you shall not kill, so when murder entered the world courtesy of Cain(actual original death came for the animal that provided coverings for the newly branded sinners) he tried to do his own sin covering, knowing it was wrong

So what is conscience and why is it not clearly present in some, or strong in others? Is it a product of environment or training, or a primeaval hark back to something implanted by an act of disloyalty, disobedience and disavowal. Was it the result of entrapment by the original sinner himself, Satan, playing on the naivete of the paradise struck couple, or a part of that eternity God placed in our hearts, that we might constantly seek Him, an Aquinasian natural law embedded along with our now natural proclivities to concupiscence according to Mr Hippo himself Augustine, and being a bit of a lad in his former pre regenerate life, he knew a bit about that. Truth is, 3xl does not know, and from what he has read, neither does anyone else but we can fall on certain sides of the debate about this.

So 3xl would rather talk about some things that are far more original than OS.

I mean, how original can it be if everyone's doing it ?

Thus 3xl would like to finish this first posting of the month with a celebration of some far more original things.

Firstly, Original Love. The kind of love that is God and must be expressed even at great cost and hurt. The kind of love that creates and nurtures, and bestows the love of a parent and so much more and does it perfectly. Now that is original, and not the kid of thing that you see every day.

Secondly, Original Grace. Even more rare than OL, OG is the kind of grace that forgives wilfull, malicious rejection and the kind of desire to inflict pain on the innocent that goes far beyond my ken, and overwhelms it with OL, even when destruction is only whim away for the evildoer. Why redeem, why justify, why propitiate(why try saying that whilst eating a cracker) why strive continually with the hearts of men to forgive and save. OG is the answer that poses more questions than we have time for. Outrageous in its unfairness, it takes orignal to a whole new level.

Thirdly, Original Sacrifice. Some clever theological people will say that the killing of the animal to cover the revealed nakedness of the First lady and her man, was the first religious act that showed God covering over the "sin" of people, via the sacrifice of an animal. What is called a "foreshadowing" of the whole system of Law and sacrifice that would guide the Jewish people over the millenia. 3xl would like to say for the purposes of this blog, that it does not get any more original, any more, the one and only, than what the Lord did at Calvary where he was made naked, took the punishment for sin in his body uncovered, and chose to stay till "it is finished," when he could have removed himself from the scene and been the glorious hero and conquering one. Yet he chose to stay and drink to the bottom, the dregs of thousands of years of humanity's wrongdoing, original or not.

Understanding Orignal Sin is hard enough, Original Sacrifice makes 3xl's ears swell and his head fall off, as the cockneys say, "can you Adam and Eve it !!!" No you can not and will never be able to fathom the depth of love that causes Father to create and love in spite of all things, the Spirit to strive continually with man to turn to God , or the Son who made it possible.

Lastly let me just note one more. Original Original. God is both the first and final, the Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end.

In the beginning before all, there was God.

So in honor of this fact, 3xl coined a new name for God... The Origin of Origins.

3xl signing out bewildered and astonished by God...

Thursday's child....

2008-08-22T09:03:00.003-05:00

Ah tis 3xl here, up and ready to go on a long journey hence my poetic reference to Old Mother Goose and all that.

Now 3xl would not want to deceive his readers here in any way so let me put the record straight. Thursday's child may have far to go, but I am not a Thursday child I am a Wednesday child, and as we all know Wednesday's child does not have far to go. Wednesday's child is....full of woe!! Probably as a result of finding out, at the tender age of one day old, that their younger sibling gets to do all the traveling in the family, and they get to stay at home and be full of woe!!

Well dear readers not this Wednesday's child. Ever the rebel, 3xl decided that he would be the one with far to go in that family week, and just let that snotty full of grace sabbath kid deal with it!!!

Of course for Wednesday's Children (W.C from henceforth)the whole travel thing has not been free of woe, so maybe there is a place for compromise in this world view. Maybe I can be full of woe and travel too. In fact some security queue line, small baggy with liquids toting, departure lounge hardened folk would say that travel and woe are pretty much synonymous and I am not that inclined to argue with them.

3xl has flown over half a million miles with one airline in the last five years and it has not all been "full of grace," although in all honesty our local carrier, that is affectionately known as North Worst, Not Working, Never wonderful, etc you get the idea, airlines has not been too unkind to 3xl. The odd upgrade here and there and the fast track line are all eminently welcome in the struggle to get the best seat, space in the overhead compartment and a seat in the aisle, or when you need to change flights on the hop. Then, that bit of gold plastic with "elite" on it really helps to make the flight easier. I mean if you have to sit in one or more shiny metal tubes, hurtling above the ground for sometimes 30 hours, then you might want it to be nice for you, perhaps.

However there have been some WC moments for 3xl over the years, and some times when woe was a good description. However most of the time there is fun along with it and in many of these situations you might as well laugh as cry. Strip searching in Ben Gurion ranks up there as a WC moment, along with getting 75% of the way to Lahore from Karachi and then flying back to wait in the airport for ten hours while they cleared the runway in Lahore of water.

Mrs 3xl (Passion 1)is very good to me, but one time she had a lot of fun at my expense in Thailand. I had a nice crisp clean shirt to put on for my return journey courtesy of Mrs 3xl. I had a flight from Chiang Mai to Bangkok before continuing internationally. Between the domestic and international airport terminals there was a long tunnel way that was patchily air conditioned and 3xl had to carry his bags through it for about 15 minutes in the Thai humidity and heat. After this mad dash and much "glowing"...okay, heavy sweating, I was a lather getting in to the plane. When I reached up to put my bag in to the overhead, there was a strange feeling and then a cool draft on my back, and then another and more. My shirt which had been a little too zealously bleached my Mrs 3xl was reacting to my "liquidity" and shredding and litteraly coming to pieces on me, to the point where I looked like Bill Bixby after the hulk had just arrived, with a tattered shirt hanging in shreds. First port of call since all my bags were checked on was to find a shirt, oh so full of woe.

Or what about this year spending 13 hours in Charles De Gaulle terminal F, mostly standing, waiting to go to Jo'burg because my pass only got me in to the lounge on terminal E and no I could not go to terminal E...bonjour!!!! Be warned, CDG is a cross between a boutique and a bus station. You can buy a $30K watch there from Rolex, but try finding a good hot meal, oh yes there was some woe on that day, but once on the plane it was all forgotten..... till now!!!

One other source of WC stress is the confusingly named... 'visa.' If you do not travel to certain countries you may never come across this phenomena and if like 3xl, you did even not board a plane till you were 24, you may be forgiven for being confused when you thought that visa was something that got you nice things at the shop, rather than a small piece of paper or stamp in your passport that can cost you lots of money and time to obtain, Then after all that, as I was so helpfully and encouragingly told at the American Embassy... they can refuse you at the gate for any reason.

What? I thought I was obtaining right of passage here not paying for something that could turn out to be worthless. Have you ever tried to get a refund for your visa, its not the same as with the flexible friend and darling of criminal door openers the world over, oh no. They are somewhat inflexible on that.

So dear readers spare a thought today for 3xl as he crosses oceans, borders and timezones today. Being away from Mrs 3xl and all the little 3xls is never fun and perhaps that is why WC should be full of woe today. Maybe together we can keep working on that full of grace thing.

3xl signing off, checking in, and shipping out for now...

This will be short...

2008-08-18T14:20:00.005-05:00

3xl here, from sunny Minneapolis.

Along with all the hullabaloo of the Olympics there in China, here, there was a sad story that touched many in Minneapolis. A century old plus local business(and remember that this is young America) belonging to Christian family here in the Twin Cities, lost the CEO of that firm in China as a result of a tragic and random attack.

The family are a very close one and known to many in the area for their generous charitable work, and donations, their daughter who was an Olympic volleyball player in former years and was married to the present Olympic men's volleyball coach, was there at the time but was unhurt. Her mother was hurt but is now recovering from her wounds. The man who attacked them, killed himself by jumping to his death apparently as randomly as he attacked these strangers.

After the initial shock and sadness, letters began to pour in to the family from all over the world expressing sorrow, hurt and comfort. The family both natural and opted-in spoke with one voice about forgiveness dealing with the sorrow in grace and with a heart of trust in Father God who receives such ones as the this dear brother to Himself.

One of the letters that was made public came from New Zealand where the coach of the US team hails from. It said something like this. On hearing of the heart of forgiveness from the family and from the son in law he wrote,

"...He is a class act and has married in to a class family..."

No mention was made of whether this person believed in God, shared the faith of the family or knew them in that regard but this person recognized "class" as he put it, when he saw the forgiveness being spoken of and the grace that issued forth from this great family.

When people look at our lives and actions and when they assess what kind of people we are, how do we feed or not, their presuppositions and prejudices and what does that do for the Lord and the Kingdom that He brought to us?

Do not misunderstand me,I am well aware that anyone who calls religious authority figures white washed tombs, is not out to win any popularity or Mr Congenial awards. Speaking the truth, and being more interested in that than other people's views is something that we all need to learn from Jesus. I mean have you really read Galatians 5 :12, way to go Paul there.

I am also not talking about Mr Luther's peccadilloes either that the bracelet wearing,"what would Jesus NOT do" (probably not wear one of those perhaps)seem to find so important, or as the Lord perhaps put it, the tithing of the dill and cumin, no, I am talking about direction, faithfulness in the hard times and grace under fire, not in the Mall alone.

Now I am not going to bore you with all these lovely pictures of when you scratch me then Jesus bleeds out, or when you squeeze me only love drips out, and all that stuff, I mean, after all I am a cynical middle aged man and I do have a bad reputation to keep up so let me do that.

I have to say though that I greatly honor what I see in a person, that is truly kingdom centered, and speaks as if Heaven was much more real that this world around us, especially when that which you love has been so cruelly taken from you.

You see I tire of faithless Christianity that has more hedges and get out clauses than a crooked fund manager. I grow weary of people proof texting the Bible to justify their ideas and actions, but not quick to listen to Christ, or act as if prayer was really meaningful, and actually made a difference, or plan their great endeavors with more thinking than listening to God, and little more than a cursory opening prayer, especially if they have their backers lined up already.

It is distressing to hear people speaking as if they believed in God, whilst all the while acting as if they did not. I dislike people doing things and then justifying them rather tortuously from the Bible, or using something God did and is noted in the Bible to justify their present actions, as if God only worked that way, or with a kind of unspoken belief that, if it worked once why not again, and how could God complain anyway since it worked for David/Moses etc and He liked it then.

Then there is the other tack where we compel God to do what He said He would.... once...a few thousand years ago...in a different situation...with people He knew better than some of us.

A kind of legal executive order(or headlock) is put on God, because once He did something one way. Or as one preacher said it, "God MUST answer your prayers...." Now remind me who God was again and who you are ? Maybe you should read some Job for an hour or two for some context realignment therapy methinks.

Reminds me of that well known muppet song:-

Manna manna, it stinks the next day,
Manna manna watch for those worms
Manna manna you shouldn't use what,
is not for your use. unless God has said so. Dah dah dah dah...

Repeat till learned....

Old Manna, old wine skins, context distortion, and the like are all great ways to use the Bible in a way that creates loss, hurt, and ultimately doubt in nice humble, honest, people and legitimizes and justifies abuse from some who are not. It seems to come from what we bring to the Bible rather than the Bible itself, in terms of the philosophy and culture that we attach rather than the words that are read themselves. I feel a PhD coming on later, but enough of that for now, lets see if I am smart enough to get the masters first.

So what is class and grace, and what is authenticity? Why is 3xl such a meanie and the like. Well let me assure you that I am not talking about perfection and 100% assuredness of every course of action that we take, a kind of sinless perfection and direction as it were. The amazing preacher Wesley talks about perfection in mind and intent, of a heart and mind fully given over to the Lord that seeks even imperfectly to honor the Lord in all they do, even though perfection in action may not be attained. Hmmm...Were Enoch and Elijah perfect, since their passing to Glory, to be with God was sans mort as the Francais say. I do not know, but as Billy Shakes said in his classic play PorkLease (name changed to preserve anonymity and copyright), "there are more things in Heaven and Earth Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

My point is this, that God will not be limited to any corralling, delineation of His omnipotence, or any systematizing of what you decide he can do, just by what was written about Him, or any abrogation of His power and Authority just because we interpret the Bible a certain way. HE IS GOD... so deal with it, as they say.

The scriptures are written to reveal a person who is life and that eternal, not merely to legally sustain and support our claim on eternity by a cerebral working out of the angles, and the things we can and can not do, and also the things we can do now, but be forgiven for later hopefully, a kind of "unclenomianism:" I guess.

If your reading of the Bible introduces you to a system for salvation, fire insurance rather than the fireman, then I fear that you have missed meeting someone very important to you in that process. The Lord Jesus.

So what does class look like? It is a man capable of the destruction of all His enemies, righteously and justly, who remains nailed to a cross until all He came to do, exemplify and live out on Earth was done. It is one who brings life in the midst of their own death, and in dying brings hope to countless others.

It is the forgiveness given from a broken heart, that understands that forgiveness is never deserved, be the offense occasioning it, great or small. It is the response of a heart that is about redeeming and releasing, rather than binding and judging, and about a valuing of life, far above a yearning for the wrongdoers death.

It is class, it is grace, it is what love looks like when it pops its head out, it is the unbelievable forgiveness that is normal currency in the kingdom of God. It is truly beautiful to God and to me.

3xl signing out, humbled by the sight of God, as seen in His close family, shining brightly in the midst of darkness that never comprehends grace, and causes even the angels themselves to wonder.

Auto Bio...Th.inking M.ore about myself

2008-08-15T09:31:00.004-05:00

3xl has been caused to take time to think on his life this week.

As both my loyal readers will remember, 3xl began a TH.M last week. (If you do not know what it is, you will probably not care) One of my first assignments for college is found under the interestingly named study guide abbreviation of "Auto Bio"... An interesting title, initially innocuous, if not a little automatistic or techno in its semantic resonance.

Intrigued, I opened up the file, and delved in, wondering what this might entail and where it might end.

At first hearing, I thought it sounded like a setting on one of those energy star, EPA friendly, green compliant, front loading washing machines, that sports the ubiquitous, "European design" bragging rights sticker, stands a silvery eight feet tall, costs well over a thousand bucks, has a name you can't pronounce or understand like Nepotism tune, or Naughty Lass and yet doesn't clean your clothes very well.... Cheaply.

In fact so cheaply, that if you own the machine for 50 years you will eventually recoup the cost of buying it over the other kind.

These machines always have an instruction manual that is the size of the Encyclopedia Britannica, written in more languages than the UN etiquette primer for new Russian Diplomats(spot the oxymoron), and would take great pains to explain all the reasons why this is a jolly good machine and you should feel good, justified and not a little self righteous for buying it...let alone being able to buy it !!. (You know you have entered the elite of apparel cleansing machines, when the kind and altruistically offered, extended warranty alone costs more than the next machine in the line you just walked by.)

By page 245, after the Serbo-Croat section on cleansing, The "Lichtensteininian" section on laundering, the Russian section on avoiding running,(because it is futile) and the English section on bleaching and whitewashing you would have these instructions.

Put your socks and unmentionables in to the "Mealy zx3279" and set on... Auto Bio. Awaiting a positive outcome for that endeavor would be as much fun as sunbathing in the sand at Bikini Atoll in the 50's, and not expecting a "healthy glow," however no snow owls were hurt in the manufacture of this machine(though 3 acres of renewable forest went in to the producing of the gargantuan instruction manual) and it will (not)wash your clothes in a far more environmentally friendly way.

But that was not what Auto Bio meant.

I surmised that Auto Bio was perhaps a new nomenclature for a sophisticated computer testing analysis program, that did 15 million tests in one second on your new hybrid, flex fuel, synergy drive state of the art, "Tomato Prescience," to tell you why your windscreen wipers come on when you indicate left. ( you are using the stem/lever/thing on the wrong side of the wheel by the way) But no that was not it either.

Auto Bio, as it happens, is short for autobiography. One of 3xl's first assignments was to write his life story. Of course his lazy side said he wished he had done this course twenty years ago before he got busy, or before he had so much more to write down. The other side of him thought that this was actually a long over due process and something that he wished he had done long ago. In fact he really really wished that his parents had done some kind of autobiography before they left. However ordinary a life is, it has much value to those that have loved those lives.

He remembers talking to his Italian step grandma and having her tell him about the time when Prince Phillip came to tea in their Parisien garden, or Louis Armstrong played piano and trumpet and sang for them into the hot African night, or Earth Kitt took her ball home after her concert, complained about the food and was a real bag-diva(this is not a Hindu term), or how JB Priestley and his family life were to live with, and how his Grandad converted to Catholicism for love and built churches all over Nigeria with convicts. Yes some people have wonderfully full and interesting lives and we pass them by in the supermarket, or the road never knowing what riches they contain and what beauty and depth they are treasuring and giving sanctuary to. Such was only part of the fullness of her life and it is not over yet.

In fact maybe there is a sad irony encapsulated and embedded in the words "Auto Bio." (you know, like if you play it backwards it says "take multivitamins"!!) To wit , that too many lives are lived on auto, and pass all too quickly without reflection, reassessment, reconfiguring or resetting a course. How many lives have been lived, with out "me time" that is purposefully set aside to take stock, and having done that, not to just sit down, head in hands and cry those oft heard words, "where did all the time go..." But to rejoice in the past and to plan for the future. To change if need be, to improve, intensify or desist from a course or direction and seek another.

It was a famous Greek guy I believe, known for his hosiery leasing (Sock Rates) that said that the 'unexamined life is not worth living,' and another Greek dude, brother of the famous Chip Otle, Arist Otle that said, "well begun is half done, " though I am told he half hinched that from some Roman dude called P. Lagiarism, who was a Pro Verb, or Quo Vadis or something, anyway you get the point. It is good to begin well but to have a full life it must be examined, assessed and then check the course plotted for the future. If you don't, you may end up locked into Auto Bio.

So what of 3xl's autobiography, will it rank alongside other great works of literature, like the Irish book of temperance(a short one this), or the Belgium guide to night life, or even the British exotic cook book, The Calvinists Guide to Self Help, or Arminius' guide to home bomb making, or the Pelagius' book Original sin, was it that original or did Satan beat him to it?, or "How Total is Total depravity" by the new author Justin Bi Grace.

Well perhaps not but it will be helpful for him to assess and to think again to remember and to reminisce, perhaps to revisit things that were learned and experienced but lost, that should not have been, I have written page 20 and I am three years old, so I know it is going to be good.

So 3xl throws out a challenge to you both, and the one reading with interest, what are you going to leave for your children, and those you love, or have felt that they have been better for knowing you?

A house or a car, money or jewelery? Or will your legacy to them be a story, a chronicle of a life, an inside view to experiences of one that you loved and a new depth to knowing, communicating and loving those ones that it is too easy to pass by on Auto Bio.

3xl feels honored and truly blessed to know quite a few of such people and would love to read about their life. (and not just the funny comic relief bit where he comes in.) This is because these lives unwritten, though not un-lived are truly deep puzzles and hidden treasures, with all the fullness and density of layers seen and unseen that make for a masterpiece of writing, and grand fiction playing out for real as the master plot weaver unfolds His intricate patchwork of our life and His part in it.

Billy Shakes once said that All the worlds a stage and we just actors on it, or something sounding more Elizabethan and Jacobitish. Well 3xl shares at least a country with Billy Bob and he reckons that all the world can be a library also, and is full of books being written as we go from one "stage" to the next. Sometimes we have the privilege of watching a mighty performance that touches us and causes us to strive to be more than those on Auto Bio and when we write it down it goes into the Library of the world in such a way that others can rejoice at its reading in the years to come.

3xl approves of this message and he did not even have to pay for it.

Signing out creatively...

3xl

O limp ick Musings

2008-08-11T08:17:00.004-05:00

3xl here. As you might guess from my nom de plume, athletic endeavor is not the strongest point in my impressive resume of talents. I have had honorable mention in stair climbing, in the two flight category, and have been known to smash some records(and furniture) in the two feet dive to the couch. It should also be made known that no one, but no one has ever beaten me in the strength event of start the lawn mower, though it has to be admitted, under my truth in blogging rules, that the field is somewhat sparse and the grass somewhat long...and the 4 passions are only girls anyway :-).

I, like many couch athletes, was watching the spectacular and wonderful games that are occurring in the Middle Kingdom over these next few weeks and I was struck by many things and many questions.

I mused on whether the opening event had to be quite so long and so lavish, breathtaking though it was? I heard though that China had lost 25% of the nation's industrial output to pay for the games and had closed factories to clean the air around the stadiums, so I guess they want their money's worth and 25% is quite some "bang" for buck.

I wondered how many of the drummers, had epileptic episodes as the strobes on their drums flashed on and off canceling their subscription to their brain's alpha waves?

What kind of harness rash do you get when you fly through the air for twenty minutes.

What kind of pins and needles do you get, as the harness drops your circulation to the level of the Alabama corn growers association weekly!

Did the men under the boxes going up and down so wonderfully, really have no other help, or was their something under their feet that jabbed them when they had to lift up their boxes.

One central imponderable for me was how they ever found Sarah Brightman, and then got her to sing in Chinese, on top of a magic lantern with people running around it. Wow symbolism!!

Last, but not least, when the legendary Chinese gymnast began his run around the top of the stadium to light the torch, did you gasp when his harness tilted giving the impression that he was about to fall a very long way. I perceived that it was not going to be a good Chinese laundry moment for Mrs legendary Chinese gymnast when he got home, but no doubt he is made of tougher stuff then 3xl.

Impressive stuff, but anyone who watches the grand cinema of China would have seen many similarly impressive things, so it should not surprise us that China can put on a good show in more ways than one. When asked about the sheer scale of the production the producer said rather matter of factly, "well we have the people...: Oh yes they do.

Of course it would not be an eastern production with out some yin and some yang to go round?Yes contrasts are ever with us, and if strong enough, oft provoke a reaction in us.

The Olympics is about unity, and "brotherhood of man understanding," a humanistic effort to bring people together using the medium of sport. All the while war continues to rage in the Caucasus, Iraq, Afghanistan and on.

Along with the highest personal endeavor in sports there also comes national pride and tribalism, the desire to do your best but not just for yourself and for man but for your tribe and clan and country.

Michael Phelps appears to be very likable, level headed even gauche young man who has had enormous pressure put on him to perform and do well. All the talk is of the eight gold medals he could win breaking the record of the other guy who got seven, swimming, and I am old enough to remember watching that.

It just boggles my mind the amount of dedication and hard work that goes in to the performances that we see played out for glory or shame, in just a few short minutes, and then it is over. The Olympic mantra is that even to compete is a great honor and winning is not the main thing. Truly. it is a great honor to even be present to compete as the best and the brightest of each country duke it out with their other nation counterparts. However it is clear that being there is not going to cut it for many of the athletes who have poured their time, money , careers, lives and relationships into their sport and are not wanting to leave without some kind of metal gong around their necks. They truly put the sin in single minded and show clearly what or who, their number one priority is.

Then, by contrast again, you hear of one Polish athlete who sold her gold medal for $82,000 to donate it to children's cancer, and she only had one not seven. She is no fool who gives up that which she can not keep to gain that which she will never lose( as a certain one said before giving up that which was most precious to him). I salute her as a hero and someone who gave, whatever her motivation for that which she believed in. Contrasts, tribalism and values.

I was brought up in a small village in England. Our neighboring village was called Adlington, so imagine my pride in seeing that a UK swimmer called Adlington took a gold medal in swimming from a US favorite hopeful and another UK swimmer came third. A shock result.

Do not be perturbed however dear readers by this sudden display of old country nationalism, I am rooting for the US never fear. So to show off my new country pride, let me finish this segment, with something that anyone on this side of the Atlantic could not help but enjoy.

It is with great pleasure and with not a little schadenfreude and sang froid to use a fitting cultural reference, that I note the humbling of the team that brought us arrogance and le trash talk, the French relay swim team. They were favorites, they were world record holders, they were the team that everyone had to beat, but they could not resist a little jab at the US and a display of, how you say, the pomme fritte on the shoulder that makes us Europeans so endearing, when we say things that make us sound like has beens glorying in our ancient splendor.

Leave it to the French to put their pied in their bouche and say we came here to crush the Americans, I mean, do we need lessons in bombast, pomposity,jingoism,patriotism, I don't think so, I think we have that covered thanks.

Thus it was with contrasting delight I watched the French, all bluster and bellicosity, beaten by a finger tip in the last stretch by the men they were going to crush, in a World Record time, that smashed the French's previous record by four seconds. We were thus treated with a few of those(courtesy of the French), well what do you know moments, as it appeared that once again we did not know much of even what we knew.... As it were.

So 3xl being the blogger he is could not resist compiling a few aphoristic musings and lessons here for us, based on these events and happenings, in the hope that they will be of some benefit, nay amusement to you all.

Firstly,if you are the best you do not need to brag about it, because if you are not we will soon find out, and if you are, we will know already.

Secondly, and very important to me....The best do not always win.
(This was a source of comfort for me, both times I won.)

If you have a chip(french /freedom fry let the reader understand) on your shoulder, fry it in your own pan, and deal with it graciously and internally, rather than displaying it openly. If you do not, you are allowing it to subject you to more reasons to feel bad about yourself, when the next inevitable embarrassment occurs.

Never give up till it is finished, and never assume you have succeeded until you have. Some defeats turn around into glorious victories in 8 hundredths of a second and that last stretch may do it. Some victories however, go the same way.

A win by a finger tip is the same as a win by a length, so if you seem behind at the moment remember that it can all change, and if winning is important to you, then it is all that matters.

I know that a humble frenchman is an oxymoron, but we Brits have enough Breton in us to kind of love them for that anyway, so Vive la France and God Bless Americans and rule the waves Britannia, even if only a few hundred metres of them.

Th.M... Thinking More...or how to dispense with premillenialism

2008-08-08T11:37:00.006-05:00

3xl has not been involved in any formal education for quite a while and so it was with some whimsy and not a little wry smiling that he enrolled on a "spare" time internet masters program this week.

Now as he, and passions three and four were talking and relating they asked, if he would cease to be cool and different from the usual dads(you will have to ask them for their definitional sources). He had to ponder this whilst putting their minds at rest that he would be no different(unfortunately) for doing this course of study, but that he wanted to know more and be better able to chose things that he did and be accredited in what he did as these things were important to people.

What's the point of being a genius if no one knows about it? It is nice to be affirmed, and qualifications can do that for you. Of course the strange thing is that 3xl has been somewhat reticent and unwilling to take this step. Not that he is anti education, or anti academic, but that he has always sought to do that which is practical and useful, and has perhaps harbored secret anti smart thoughts, or pondered on the practical use of such things. I mean we all know clever idiots don't we?

Are all those letters not just affectations, or badges of merit for those who can afford the time and money to do such things? Elmer PhD, M.Scellaneous, B.A, B.A black sheep and the like and my own degrees already attained, LL.B W(Little leg before wicket, for non cricket people) and PGCE, (People Go Crazy Educating)!!!

What of the great old preachers and teachers who had no such appendages as letters after their name? Many preachers are a gold mine of wisdom and Biblical understanding and yet work all their days for God in secular employment whilst preaching faithfully and the Lord knows them.

3xl wondered if it was a particularly cultural thing. He being a not American, has a "different" slant on many things and brings different expectations to the table. 3xl was the first one in his family to go to University, but then imagine coming to a place where the head of the College has two doctorates not just one, and everyone on staff down to the IT guy has a doctorate?

He has not asked the cleaner yet....

3xl has never seen himself as academic in either sense of that word and never wants to be full of knowledge that is of no use to anyone.... but who does?

Education and wisdom do not always play nicely together. The clash of desiring to know, synthesize, apply, disseminate, propagate, promulgate and inculcate known knowledge , seems sometimes to not mesh with the wisdom that brings life, light, release and that which can only be known through revelation, rather than just reading, whatever book it is, and this is something to be acutely aware of.

So let 3xl opine a little more here and try to grasp for himself and work through the difference between the knowledge that puffs up and the learning that transforms and brings life to others.

If that which goes in to us does not defile us, yet that which comes out of us does, then it seems vital that what goes in does not affect us, so that which comes out of us is malignant and defiling, rather than life giving and eternal. As any computer handler will tell you, garbage in and garbage out. However what happens when the facts, the learning and the input mix with the internal issues that are not kingdom aligned.

When "thou shalt not...." is heard by a person, it hits different targets and can be given different receptions by different people. It can stir wildly different reactions to the same comment, some that produce the beauty that nurtures, others, the bitterness that defiles when it comes in to the daylight.

The rebellious and proud see it as an affront to their self determination and independence and may respond with anger and rejection.

The downtrodden may receive it with the pained acceptance and impotence of those who feel powerless, an edict from above that holds down and crushes and their speech accordingly speaks of harshness with passive aggression.

The optimistic and accepting may see it is a vindication of what they always felt and a release from the pressure to conform to a culture that they found themselves at constant variance with and so it goes on.

The point is that the input is the same, constant and regular, and is good, but the responses produced show the ground and soil that it is being planted in. So as I embark on my new journey of learning, what is my hope and prayer dear readers?

That the ground in my heart will be fertile to receive instruction and knowledge and that the fruit and harvest of such planting will be pure meaningful and bring life to many others . If that is found to be true then it will have been good for 3xl to take the time to...
Th.ink M.ore

2008-08-04T09:57:00.000-05:00

I was reading the book called "a serious call to a devout life" the other day and was struck by the power of intention, or setting your mind to something, like flint, or stone. The writer's point was that people failed in their life of constant dynamic faith, simply because they never really intended to succeed, at least as evidenced by the way they prepared for and acted in their life with Christ. Sola scriptura, rather like solar panels, does not get you anywhere, unless connected to something, that can conduct these entities to the place they were intended to go, and the purpose they were intended to meet.

The rigidity and passive solidity of granite and flint, the firmness to withstand, or stand against, rather than the progressive, walking, approaching and moving implication that, "to," gives this phrase caused me to think.

Setting your mind to something sounds like you are going somewhere and doing something, but jittery, purposeful, strident rocks and minerals are hard to find. Dynamothermal metamorphism sounds like a new religion but is, when all is said and done, just more heat and pressure formed solid rock!!!

Radio 4 listeners in the UK are treated to a shipping forecast, where they are inducted in to the mystic speak of the shipping lanes, "Silly Aisles," Dogger Bank, and the legendary Rockall, so mystically named as some have said because there is rockall to do there.

Actually it should be named All Rock, since it is a piece of Rock in the middle of a Large Ocean, the remains of a once active volcano now extinct leaving just a piece of rock standing proud in the middle of nowhere,187 miles from any other pieces of rock, "nowhere," to be precise. A dynamothermal metamorphic shadow of its former self. Those who have found it unawares have regretted it to their loss, as it stands proud and jagged in a sea of nothing. A picture of obduracy, stubborn, dogged and demanding in its insistence to existence. If anything was set, then, it is. Being a rock is all well and good, but it gets you nowhere.

I fear sometimes that we(speaking royally here) have been guilty of imitating the rock, rather than setting our mind to life in all its fullness and abundance. Holding the line, standing firm, being steadfast while the billows roll, fastened to the rock that cannot move, guarding our lentil patch, and the like. Our idea of faithfulness requires non movement as we have the last word on things, we stand firm(or try to) against all comers and assaults upon us, and the "truth" we hold to. All the while however we are talking life, but living death, and rigidity, and we become in danger of falling into an ironic petrification of the very faith, that is supposed to move mountains rather than create them, nail them down, fortify and defend them.

I think it not insignificant that the Lord's ministry was marked by much walking, movement and a refusal to set up HQ/healing and retreat center, day spa, etc, where the people could come to Him. He did not stake his claim and hunker down to receive all onslaughts, he set his mind to go and to do in certain places... and then did it. He invaded, not evaded. In Jesus' case, His face of flint and granite was connected to some pretty active legs that got to movement and intention on the road pretty frequently.

It would have been easy for him to stay in one place and cause others to come to him. However this was no hermit you visited, you had to chase this guy, because he was not hanging around and he was not selling tickets to the show either. If you came to Jesus you did not reside you accompanied and walked as He walked. No situating here, just perambulating there.

You did not come and then hang around waiting for some event or special festival. You walked with Jesus because He was not sitting and waiting for people to come to him, I repeat this because I believe it is central and intrinsic to dynamic living faith that saves, heals, ignites and transforms those around you wherever that may be. You had to chase Jesus if you wanted to hear Him, and you still do. This is one good intention that does not pave the path to Hell. but to the kind of life with Christ that begins here, and like Enoch walking with God, just translates to the eternal, in the flutter of an eye, the exhalation of a breath or the up shift of celestial gear that catapults us in to new dimensions and atmospheres. Some came to Jesus received a healing or a blessing and then went home, to live it all out and do their best with their new revelation and belief.

Others stayed with Jesus and showed the kind of dogged intention to accompany that resulted in the kind of growth that never needs to end. They walked with, listened to, responded to, asked of, and received from Jesus. He said where I am, there will my servant also be, or is that not clear enough for us, not systematic enough or complex and intricate enough a system of faith for us.

Peter's insightful, visceral, yet desperate cry of, "to who else will we go, for you have the words of eternal life," should be enough for any and all, that feel they need to go home, hang up their spurs, pull up the stumps or take it to the bank.

When I understand and believe this, my "karma" will run over my dogma every time.

Being with Jesus meant walking with Jesus and does still....

The wind blows, the river flows, the mustard seed grows, and without faith, mountains stay put, That is rockall use to me and rockall use to Jesus. Burying rocks, talents or treasure never made them grow. Faith that moves this 3xl mountain is what I want to see by, live by and walk by.

Never let our song be:-

"Lord make me an obstacle, an obstacle to others,
I stand in the way of their faith."

Rather let it be sung of me, that "he has decided to Follow Jesus" rather than wait for Him to come back as some seem happy to do.

I once described missions work as "the unwilling, and unprepared being sent by the ill informed to the disinterested.

Some doctrine leaves me feeling like a new definition coming on, such as the disconnected, defending the undefendable and unassailable from the disassociated and disparaging.

Who wants to defend the line, next to the rock, in the ocean, by the desert, in the wilderness, where no one else but devils really care to go anyway.

I want to be part of a jumpy rock that all of a sudden crashes in to some gates and knocks them down, that makes "H.E double hockey sticks " jumpy and whiney, about infiltrators, immigrants and "wetbacks" escaping because their border security has been compromised, due to the inability of their gates to withstand that rock. Oh yes, that is the Jesus rock on which we are built and He continues to build as we walk and accompany Him.

As a lone bastion of dark hair(with chromed highlights, as my third passion likes to tell me),surrounded by a sea of female yellow hair(mostly natural) I can tell this joke, since no blondes will ever read my blog....

Two blondes were standing on opposing banks of a river, and one shouted I want to get over to the other side. The other blonde looked up the river for a bridge but saw none, then down for a bridge but saw none. Finally in a flash of inspiration and revelation she cried out to her new companion with a beaming smile....

"you are on the other side."

I guess it all depends on how you look at it, and where you are standing.

Siding with no one but Jesus, 3xl signs out..

of mice, men, and motorbikes

2008-08-01T11:27:00.001-05:00

This is a shot across my literary bow, a dipping of the toe, sniffing of the air and a wetting of the finger, held aloft in flurry of nothing sliding down the barometric slide, or perhaps a man just walked in to an isobar....

I have seen blogs before, and read a few that were intriguing, irritating and somewhat, at times at least, revealing. In fact perhaps if more of us could just conduct our relationships via blogs, we would be more able to reveal that which is within, without having to take emotional responsibility for it, owning it or fessing up to a real person with a face and an opinion that can shoot back in unexpected ways we fear. A kind of intimacy by proxy, or being a moron by oxy perhaps?

In fact the current desire to be "known, " the type and tell mania evidenced by the rash of sites like facebook, my space, blogs podcasts and the like, is an interesting phenomena enabled by recent advances in communication technology, but really powered by something even more inscrutable than a chip, enormous memory space or super cool semi conductor, double gated processors and all that...It is the inherent and powerful desire to be heard, known loved and received for who you are. To know and be known. What a powerful thing that is, what a very human condition.

A few years ago, I shared with a Sunday school class at church the revelation to them, that in the modern suburbs the biggest problem we face is the privacy that we think we enjoy. It starts with automated garage door openers that keep us cocooned in our metal tombs on wheels and that have us traversing our daily existence in one smooth movement from bed through breakfast to work and back again without even so much as tasting some fresh air or enjoying a word with a neighbor on the way to work.

It seems however that we are becoming aware that people, and the relationships that should ensue from meeting them, are not so much threats as treasures that we need to nurture, by wasting time with them and hearing their stories, rather than making up our own about them, however kindly we feel we do it.

Maybe this then is the first stage in pushing back the insidious power of the planners, giving us our private space, that has become more cell than range, and more cloister than community.

So here is my opening salvo to the new freedom, the open range of cyberspace and the open wagons or two wheeled horses that propel us in to the new frontier of communication, collaboration and open communion around a blog,walking the dog, or riding the Hawg.
God Bless Americans.