This past weekend, our family joined a dozen other people from our church community, on a muggy Amsterdam summer day, to walk 2.5 kilometers (1.55 miles) from our ministry center on the Herengracht to the main park in the city’s Old South, and back… carrying buckets of water on our heads.

We were doing it to raise awareness for issues of water and sanitation in the developing world.  Ever since the establishment of our ministry in Amsterdam, we’ve made "social justice" an important part of our work in the city; but especially in the last few months, we’ve been making more of an effort to focus our attention in this area.  Three young women from our church (one of whom holds a masters degree in international development) have spear-headed a recent campaign to coordinate and crystallize our goals for the church’s social justice ministry according to the following mission statement:

"As a Christian community, our aim is to increase awareness and action on behalf of the poor and disadvantaged, in order that we may be a bright light, radiating God’s love to our ‘neighbors’ through involvement in the fight against social injustice, both locally and globally."

And one of the first issues that we’ve now chosen to tackle is world-wide water and sanitation.  It may not seem like a very spiritual issue.  But the fact of the matter is that water is one of the most basic needs in the world -- and yet it’s one of the most unequally distributed resources in the world, as well.  As we’ve been studying this issue further, we’ve learned that the average person in the Netherlands uses 127.5 liters (33.7 gallons) of water per day (and in case my North American readers are curious, it’s even more in the USA -- about three times as much, in fact!).  But in contrast, the average person in developing countries uses just 10 liters of water per day.  Women and children have to collect all the water by hand, and the average distance a woman walks to collect water is 6 kilometers (3.72 miles) -- sometimes doing this three times a day.   And the weight of water that women carry on their heads is 20 kilograms (44 pounds)...

Or, to look at it from the global level, 1.1 billion people don’t have access to clean, safe drinking water.  2.6 billion people lack adequate sanitation (places to properly wash hands or go to the toilet).  Unsafe water and sanitation causes 80% of all sickness and disease, and cause 6000 people to die every day (90% are children under the age of 5.)   This means that unsafe water and sanitation kill more people than all other forms of violence, including war.  It’s crazy to write it out like that -- but it’s true.  These statistics can be overwhelming…

Suffice to say:  water and sanitation are very significant issues in the world today!

So when it was proposed that the women and children of Zolder50 should organize this "Water Walk" -- to help identify with the women and children in the developing world, to raise the general level of awareness among Amsterdammers for these issues, and to "advertise" for a fund-raising event later that evening --  our family decided to join in.  Marci walked the whole way.  Elliot and Olivia walked for parts of the way.  And Cor and I offered logistical support (a luxury, of course, that most African families don't have), riding alongside in the bakfiets:  offering a place for the older kids to sit when they got tired, displaying a couple of posters that explained more about what we were doing, passing out flyers, taking pictures, and that sort of thing.

It seemed like it was an exhausting experience for those who participated... but also an enriching one.

In case you might be interested in learning more about issues of water and sanitation in the developing world -- and perhaps exploring ways that you could get personally involved -- here are a few links to organizations that could assist you:

• Healthy Vine
• WaterAid
• Living Water International
• Nuru International
• Malaria No More
• WHO (World Health Organisation)
• AWID (Association for Women’s Rights in Development)

And in case you might like to see some more pictures from the Water Walk, you can visit the Zolder50 Pictures section of this website.

When I dropped the kids off at school this morning, the death of Michael Jackson was the big buzz around the playground and in the hallways.  I don't know if I ended up fielding a lot of questions about the news because I am an American (and thus a compatriot of the late pop star) -- or if it was just that heavy on everyone's minds... But it was interesting to observe the buzz.

The death of someone like Michael Jackson is an fascinating opportunity to explore our own mortality.  It's an intellectually-jarring event -- like, "Huh? Wow. I didn't expect that to happen today."  But it's not particularly emotional.  That is to say, he was a person who I've never met or interacted with -- nor is he even a person with whom anyone that I've ever known has had any kind of personal interaction.  And even his public role was not one of vast personal significance (though I can think of political figures and even baseball players whose deaths have emotionally impacted me, without ever even knowing them)... But the intellectual impact of the event is enough (especially without the emotional impact to confuse things) to really make you understand how fragile and unpredictable life is.  To realize how many lives I've already out-lived.  To wonder how many more will pass on before my own time comes...

What's strange is that Michael Jackson's death is the third such event that I've experience this week.

First, I found out that the kitchen contracting business who managed our recent renovations just went (apparently) belly-up.  Their e-mail addresses don't work anymore.  Their phone numbers don't work anymore.  And their shop itself is locked and darkened (according to one of the subcontractors, who alerted us to the situation -- panicked and looking for any clue he can find to track down the people from the business which still owes him €9000.  In fact, the business still owes us a couple-hundred euros (refunds of cost overages) and a handle to one of the cabinets that we ordered through them -- so I have some reason for anger and disappointment myself, that they would run away from their problems in the middle of the night like that... But, to be honest, my main emotion is one of relief -- that it didn't happen five months ago, right after we made our down-payment for the project and right before the actual work on our house began).  Relief and wonder at that whole "fragility of life" thing.  It really can be scary to realize how close to disaster and ruin we all can be, at any and every moment of the day.

Then, secondly, our family received a letter in the mail informing us that our dentist had died in a mountain-climbing accident in the Himalayas.  Granted, it was our dentist -- not someone to whom a significant emotional attachment is made.  But still, it was weird and sad to realize that suddenly, he was taken away from us without any warning and without any reason.

And now, this morning, we hear about Michael Jackson.  If anything, my emotional reaction to the news of his death was one of... how do I say it?  Relief?  I don't know.  Kind of like what it talks about in Ecclesiastes 7.  I have a sense that Michael Jackson's life was hard -- that he was somehow emotionally-tortured throughout his life.  And I have this vague desire the he could somehow "rest in peace."  Again, I feel a little bit sad.  But also this sense of strangeness from surviving.  Does that make sense to anyone else?

Certainly, my emotions have been affected by these three events from this week... But it's more that my mind is spinning around the implications.  I'm thinking a lot.  Wondering a lot.  Praying a lot... I guess this mortality thing is mighty strong stuff, isn't it?

I'm a blogger.  I also happen to be a church leader...  And I have to confess that I'm not always exactly sure how these two roles should (or should not) be combined.  I guess I try to let the church leadership thing be a part of my blog -- just as it is a part of my life, in general -- without becoming the dominant dynamic... But I sometimes become a bit insecure about the level of balance.  Am I talking about church / ministry / Christian stuff too much (to the point that it becomes some kind of propaganda)?  Or am I not talking about it enough (to the point that it's obviously and awkwardly absent)?

Case in point:  my previous post was a narrative adaptation of a "sermon" that I delivered to our church leadership team this past weekend (with actual teaching notes also available for download).  I posted it to the blog because I thought it lent itself well to that format, plus I wanted to give the people who were there at the church meeting the direct link to the article that I referenced in my teaching, in case they were interested to read it for themselves.  But such postings are quite rare.  The only other times I can think of doing something like that typically happen around Christmas or Easter.

But I'm curious, if it were up to YOU, how much "preaching" would you like to see on this website?  Maybe you don't have very strong opinions on this subject -- or then again, maybe you do -- but if you please, I would really appreciate your feedback on this one -- which can be easily (and anonymously) supplied by using the electronic polling device embedded here below:

Please let me know what you think.  I would also be delighted, of course, to read any comments that you might wish to register on this subject.  But if you could at least fill out the poll, I would appreciate it.  And then we'll see what happens from there...

In my experience, learning to ask good questions is one of the keys to developing deeper relationships, engaging in more meaningful conversation, and enacting real life change (both in myself and in others).  And yet, for some reason, it doesn’t seem to be an instinctive behavior.

At least I can speak for myself.  When I left my parents’ home for the first time (at the age of 18) and traveled to Bowling Green State University in northwest Ohio, I think one of the best descriptions that you could have used for me in those days was "socially awkward."  Somehow I made it all the way to that point in life and I just didn’t know how to handle conversations.  I would be kind of shy and quiet in social situations.  If anyone attempted to initiate conversation with me, I would only "hold the defensive position" -- answering any questions that were asked of me with as few words as possible and hardly ever daring to ask even the most basic questions of the other person (which is, by the way, not a good way to develop meaningful communication!).  The only way that the conversation would open up in any way was if you just so happened to hit upon one of the few subjects in which I felt more well-acquainted -- such as American sports, in which case I could (and did) talk rather extensively (and probably too extensively).  But that was about it.

Then God gave me the gift of my freshman-year roommate, Ben.  Ben was the complete opposite of me:  very outgoing, very much the "life of the party" -- and totally masterful at initiating and maintaining conversation with anyone and everyone who came across his path.  We’d just go to lunch in the cafeteria closest to our dorm, and we’d end up making a new friend there in the cafeteria, talking for hours at a time with someone we just met that afternoon... We’d be playing basketball at the Student Recreation Center, and we’d end up having long, drawn-out conversations about the most bizarre subjects, like the history of a little town called Carey, Ohio, or the current state of events regarding Mexican immigration to the United States!  Seriously, Ben was a master at conversations.  I always used to say that he could make friendly with anyone or anything -- even a stray dog, or a scarecrow, or a rock.  And as I watched him, I realized that a lot of it had to do with the way that he asked questions.

Ben had an amazing way of asking questions that could draw a person out, induce hours of conversation, and make the other person in the conversation feel like the most fascinating person in the world.  He would look at a T-shirt that the other person was wearing and ask a question related to it:  "The Cincinnati Reds, huh?!  Now why would you like a team like that?!"  Or if he learned one piece of information about the other person, he would figure out some way to relate that to something from his own life:  "You’re from Chicago, huh?  Now I’ve heard some people tell me that the best pizza in the world comes from Chicago, but I don’t know about that.  What do you think?"  And even if he could only get a person to talk about one little (maybe really obscure) thing, he would milk that one thing for all it was worth: "You play the harmonica, huh?  Well, what do you think about Blues Traveler?  I heard that guy can’t play harmonica worth crap, but everyone else thinks he can; what’s your opinion?"  Again, I really think it just came down to making the other person feel special and interesting and worth drawing out.  It was entering that other person’s world and crawling around inside it with them for awhile that made the conversation keep going.

Eventually, I started trying some of Ben’s skills for myself -- and I learned that they really worked!  Now I use them almost every day.   But I still have to wonder:  Why do these things not come naturally to us?

I was reading a business article called "The Art of Powerful Questions" which suggested that one reason may be that much of Western culture focuses on having the "right answer" rather than discovering the "right question."  That is, our educational system focuses more on memorization and repetition of facts than on the "art of seeking new possibilities."  In fact, people who ask tough questions are often considered to be trouble-makers!  And on top of all this, we just keep so darn busy that we don’t usually get the opportunity to participate in long, drawn-out, reflective conversations where we can explore deep questions and creative possibilities...

So, it seems to me that we have to start by giving ourselves (and those around us) permission to ask good questions and not just jump into "answer mode."  This is important for all people, I think -- but I would suggest that this message is especially necessary for people who follow Jesus.  Contrary to what popular opinion on the subject might seem to be, we don’t have to fall into the classic role of "Christian Know-It-All!"  We can let conversations about faith (or other things) be true dialogues (two-part conversations) and not just "Ask the expert" sessions, in which we automatically presume ourselves to be the experts.  We can respond to good questions with other questions -- trying to get at the question behind the question.

Here’s a personal example:  Not too long ago, I was going somewhere with my kids in the bakfiets.  And as we were riding along, one of my kids asked a very interesting question:  "Dad, is it OK for a dolphin to touch your private parts?"  Weird question, right?  Kids ask weird questions all the time, and there was a pretty decent possibility that there was nothing really meaningful about this question... But then again, maybe there was.  So what were my possible responses in a situation like that?

"No, of course not!"

"What a silly question!  I don’t think you ever have to worry about a dolphin trying something like that (especially considering how much contact you actually have with dolphins!)."

"What?!?  Where did that question come from?!?  What kind of perverted dolphins have you been hanging around with lately?!?"

In the end, I decided to use the question to draw out more information.  I said something like, "That’s an interesting question.  What makes you wonder that?"  And from that conversation, I learned about a time when another little kid had tried to sexually experiment with my child and had become increasingly creative as their advances were denied.  Fortunately, we've trained our children that their private parts are private.  "The only people allowed to touch you there are yourself, Mommy and Daddy, and the doctor (and even then, only if Mommy or Daddy is with you)."  And that if anyone else ever tries to touch their private parts, they are to respond by emphatically saying "NO!" and reporting the incident to us as soon as possible.  But there was this one time when another kid was playing over at our house, in the basement, and our guest started off by suggesting that they play with each others’ private parts. ("No!") And then they tried suggesting that they pretend to be doctors, "because doctors can touch your private parts" (But fortunately, again our kid said "No")... And then the suggestion became that they could pretend to be dolphins, since dolphins can touch your private parts. (Fortunately, our kid said "No" a third time, and then eventually brought the matter up in discussion with me on the bakfiets that day).  So when that original question was posed, it turned out to be a very strategic opportunity to reinforce the lessons that we’ve been trying to teach our children and make ourselves more aware of some of the pressures that our kids are facing.  All that to say:  Questions can be the doorway to more questions and good conversation.

The same is true about classic spiritual questions, like:  "Why would a good God allow innocent people to suffer?"  Or, "Why do bad things happen to good people?"  These questions can often be more personal than philosophical.  Maybe the person who’s asking the questions has experienced deep pain in his or her life.  Maybe she’s the "innocent people" that she’s asking about!  Or maybe it’s her Dad or her best friend...  Aren't things like this typically the root of all our most meaningful questions?  Seriously, think about it.  Maybe the question "What does God really think of homosexuality?" really means, "I love my brother so much and I appreciate so many of the ways that he looks at the world and interacts with people -- but what are we supposed to do with the sections of the Bible that seem to come into conflict with his homosexual feelings?"  Or maybe the question "Do you believe in predestination?" is really a question wondering how God could make a "deliberate plan" for that person’s dad to die at a young age and leave him without a father for most of his formative years.

You see, there’s a story behind just about every question.  You won’t ever know these things, though, unless you ask questions to draw the other person out.

Jesus was an incredible model of dealing with people in this way!  He asked powerful questions -- and often in cases where you would think that a well-worded answer would have been a whole lot more "appropriate" than a question.  Take the Gospel of Luke, for example.  A surprising percentage of the "red text" from Luke comes in the form of questions.  Did you know, in fact, that Jesus’ first words recorded are two questions right in a row? (Luke 2:49).  When the Pharisees started spreading negative misinformation about him  -- Jesus responded with questions (Luke 5:21-23, 7:39-42, 20:1-8). When his disciples came to a crisis of faith, he asked questions  (Luke 8:25).  When his very identity was at stake -- he asked questions (Luke 9:18-20).  Even when people asked him, point-blank, for the means to salvation (Luke 10:25-28, 18:18-20), Jesus responded with questions!  To me, it seems quite clear that Jesus understood that there is tremendous opportunity in asking questions, and even answering questions with questions!

So for those who would want to initiate and enter into these types of dialogues more regularly, dealing with deep questions openly, I would just encourage people to relax and respond to the questions wisely and patiently.  Don’t make assumptions.  Don’t jump to conclusions.  Don’t freak out.  Don’t answer questions that aren’t being asked yet.  Just engage... Draw out... Be patient.

But how do we really do this?  What separates a good question from a bad question?  Or how can we turn a good question into a great question?  Figuring these things out may actually be more intuitive than you might think. For example, if you were an Olympic judge scoring the power of questions on a scale from one to ten (with ten being the highest), how would you rate the following queries?

1. What time is it?
2. Did you take a shower?
3. What possibilities exist that we haven’t thought of yet?
4. What does it mean to be ethical?

I took those questions from the "Art of Powerful Questions" article that I mentioned previously, and it turns out that those same questions have been tested in several different cultures -- with the results showing that no matter what the cultural differences, people quite consistently rate questions one and two as being less powerful, and questions three and four as being more powerful.  Thus, powerful questions transcend many boundaries. This same article would say that a "powerful question" is one that:

• generates curiosity in the listener
• stimulates reflective conversation
• is thought-provoking
• surfaces underlying assumptions
• invites creativity and new possibilities
• generates energy and forward movement
• channels attention and focuses inquiry
• stays with participants
• touches a deep meaning
• evokes more questions

The authors of this article go on to suggest three dimensions to powerful questions:  construction, scope, and assumptions. And I thought that it could be especially useful to mention some of their thoughts about the Construction of a Question... As you might be able to guess, this is talking about the specific way that a question is phrased:  Is it a yes/no question? Is it an either/or question? Which word does the question begin with?  When surveyed, most people rank these words from more powerful to less powerful as follows:

1. Why?
2. How?
3. What?
4. Who? / When? / Where?
5. Which? / Yes/No Questions

So if we use words higher up on that scale, we can make our questions more powerful.  For example, consider the following sequence:

• Are you satisfied with our home group?
• When have you been most satisfied with our home group?
• What is it about our home group that you find most satisfying?
• Why might it be that that our home group has had its ups and downs?

As you move from the simple "yes/no" question at the beginning toward the "why" question at the end, you’ll notice that the questions tend to stimulate more and more reflective thinking and deeper levels of conversation.  But there is a word of caution, here:  You have to be careful when you use a "why" question.  If it’s not done well, it can easily bring about a defensive response  (Consider the drastic difference in tone between the question, "Now why did you do it that way?" and "Hmm, I wonder why that happened?").  If you can start from a place of sympathy and respect for the other person, you’ll get a lot further.

Those are a few things that I've been thinking about lately, at any rate... But I'm curious:  Any questions? :-)

 

---

(This post is adapted from a message originally given at the Zolder50 Soul Gathering on 19 June 2009.  Full text of my teaching notes is available for download here).

Did you know that the Dutch translation for the English term "chicken pox" is (literally) "water pox?"  And that the German translation for this same phrase is "wind pox?"  Strange, huh?  And what's strangest of all is that the actual virus has no actual connection to water, wind, or chickens!  Linguistic stuff like that is fascinating to me...

Whatever you call them, I'm glad that they're finally on their way out of our house!  It was three weeks ago today that Olivia first came down with the chicken pox.  And yet we're only just now coming through the final stages of the sickness's aftermath.  Elliot went back to school this week -- but he's only been able to manage half-days, as his system is still wiped-out from battling the chicken pox virus.  Cor, too, has gone back to taking two naps per day for awhile, and it was only today that he was able to return to his one-nap-for-the-day habit.

Habits and attitudes are finally getting back to normal again, too.  Elliot and Olivia are finally getting back to their daily chores.   Cor is finally smiling, laughing, and dancing again.

It feels good to have all that behind us now.

I just took my good friend Jason to the airport.  He's spent a week with us here in Amsterdam.  And even though it just so happened that Jason's visit coincided with the Week of the Pox, we still managed to have a lovely time.  We played disc golf in Rotterdam (Jason beat me by one stroke)...

We ate at Jason's local favorite:  Pepino's (towards the end of the week, when the chicken-pox were finally clearing up and our kids were no longer contagious)...

And we just spent a lot of time biking around the city, doing regular life with a dear old friend...

Friends like Jason Slack are hard to come by:  a guy who's known me for 14 years know, who's lived with me, who's stood with me in my wedding (and I in his), who's made a point to visit Amsterdam -- not just once, or twice... but five times, now.  Just to be able to walk in my shoes better, to be able to offer support and encouragement during times of transition, and to travel the roads of life together.

It's been wonderful.  I'm sad to see him go.

I've been learning a lot about Iran over the last year or two, through a number of friends who have various connections to the country.  And just like the rest of the world (at least those parts of the world who are tuned into international news), I've been hearing a lot more about Iran over the last week, since their elections and its disputed results.

So out of sympathy for what's happening in Iran, and out of support for my friends, I wanted to post this banner here on my blog.  To be honest, I'm not completely sure what this might actually accomplish; it seems so weak and empty on certain levels.  I certainly don't want to be one of those lame neo-hippies, who wears a T-shirt about Tibet just because it's the fashionable and culturally-cool thing to do.  But since my friends (especially Tori, who helped to establish the Vote For Iran website) have asked me to demonstrate my solidarity, I'm going to do so.

"Are you gonna have a birthday cake today, Mommy?" Olivia asks.

"Hm, well, yeah.  Kind of," her mother says.  "We're going to have rhubarb-raspberry smoothies -- which are kind of like a cake for me."

"Yeah, but why don't you want to have a cake when you grow up?"

"What -- do you think that I should have a real cake for my birthday?  Is that something that's supposed to be important for celebrating a birthday?"

"Yes.  I think you should have a cake."  Olivia is confident in her judgment.

"What kind of cake do you think I should have?"  The expected answer might be something along the lines of "chocolate" or "strawberry."

But the response is more about the shape of the cake (because Olivia's birthday cakes are typically made up in the shape of something fun, like a train or a giant strawberry or something like that.  Olivia says, "I think you should have a Jesus cake."

"A Jesus cake, huh?  What should that look like?"

"Like when Jesus is walking out on the water."

"Oh, that's a good idea!  A cake with a picture of Jesus walking on the water.  And why did you think of that idea for my birthday cake, Olivia?"

"Well... because grown-ups really like to talk about Jesus.  So I think you should have a Jesus cake!"

"OK.  Thanks for the idea.  I'll think about it..."

The Blue Balloon Café from Crapneto on Vimeo.

I found this video on Noel's blog, and I enjoyed it so much that I decided to pass it along.

Blue Balloon!

Er heerst hier waterpokken.  This is the Dutch way of saying "The chicken-pox are going around" (I know the phrase because it gets posted on the bulletin board outside of the kindergarten classroom at  my kids' school, whenever the virus starts getting passed around).  But literally, the phrase could be translated "Chicken-pox are ruling (or dominating) around here."

And that's pretty much what it feels like around our house these days.

We're working our way through that classic childhood affliction these days.  Olivia came home from school with it about two weeks ago.  After the disease had run its course through Olivia's system, we had three or four days free from the chicken-pox... But we knew that more were on their way.  And indeed, at the beginning of this week, Elliot and Cor both came down with the chicken-pox as well.  Elliot's had an especially severe case, unfortunately... but we're continuing to fight through this occupying force.

We're looking forward to our liberation, but until then, we're being dominated.

Parenting definitely has its challenges.  But rifling through some old papers this evening, I found this note from Elliot -- written a couple of months ago -- and it reminded me that there are also indubitably great joys that come along with parenting, too.

And in case your 7-year-old handwriting recognition is not highly practiced, here is a typed-out version of the text from Elliot's poem:

I would be so sad

if I did not have a dad

But I am glad that I have

A dad he plays with us all the days

I love you.

It's nice to be loved, isn't it?

I was throwing rocks at my oldest son, while the younger boy was getting kicked in the head by his sister.  How would I explain something like that to their mother?  How could I interpret the situation to any strangers in the park who happened to witness the scene?  The scene highlighted the occasional absurdity of parenting.

In my defense, it's tricky to manage three children.  And it's especially tricky to manage three very different children who want to participate in three different activities in three different sections of the playground.  But it's part of my job.  Olivia likes the swings the best.  Elliot likes the zip-line and the merry-go-round.  Cor just likes to wander around and dig in the dirt.  So I try to split my time tending to each of the three.  One of them will call out, "Daddy, look at this!" -- and I'll go look at it.  Another one will come up, panting, "Daddy, can you please push me on the swing / zip-line / merry-go-round?" -- and I'll go offer my super-natural Daddy-strength to the job at hand.  One will start eating dirt and I'll have to go intervene.  It can be fun.  But it can be crazy sometimes, too.

So don't ask me how Elliot came up with the idea for his "game" in which he spun around on the merry-go-round, while I lobbed pebbles at him and he yelled out whether it was a hit or a miss.  And don't ask why I agreed to play along (after numerous refusals).  It just happened.  I would get Elliot spinning at top speed, then sit back on a nearby bench and loft small black rocks in his direction, listening to him publicly announce my accuracy.  Meanwhile Cor wandered away, out from the merry-go-round section of the playground -- toward the swing-set section of the playground (which was obscured from view by a low brown building).  And I didn't think anything of it...

Until I remembered some of my dramatic, last-minute rescues from earlier in the morning.  See, Cor still hadn't figured out the danger of the pendulum motion of a child, carrying terrific centripidal force, like a battering ram.  And while I had been pushing Olivia earlier, he had almost got himself kicked in the head a few times, saved only by a last-second grab of the back of his shirt or a quick snatch of the swinging sister.  So in a moment, this vision flashed in front of me that Cor might be, at that very moment, toddling directly in front of the path of the swing, about to be knocked silly by Olivia's feet on the downswing.  And what was I doing, as my youngest son faced such grave danger?  I was throwing rocks at his brother.

When I came to my senses and darted towards the swingsets to check -- certain to find blood and unconsciousness and hysteria around the corner -- fortunately, I discovered Cor contentedly chewing on a stick, a good ten meters from where Olivia was happily swinging back and forth.  He was perfectly fine.  My over-active imagination had run away from me again.  I smiled and laughed to myself at the absurdity of it all.

"Daddy?  Daddy!  Come on!" I was stirred out of my musings by a child's voice.  "C'mon and throw some more rocks at me, Daddy!"

I paused, momentarily not sure of what to do.  Scooping up Cor and sweeping him off of his feet, I tickled him and said, "Come on, little boy.  Let's go throw rocks at Elliot."

["The Word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart." So says the Bible. But would you trust a seven-year-old (or a 27-year-old, for that matter) to be able to successfully wield such a weapon? I would -- because I've seen it done. In this short series exploring the art of Reading the Bible, I seek to discover some guiding principles that can help all of us in our approach to the sacred Christian texts...]

Why are so many people so afraid to read the Bible?

I was recently talking with the business manager for the kitchen store with whom we've been working on our kitchen renovation project, and the topic of conversation gradually transitioned from business to spirituality.  This probably had a lot to do with him wanting to establish a good rapport, as a foundation for business (you know, classic business relationship questions like "How's the family?" and "How's your golf game these days?" -- and now, I guess, "What are your spiritual beliefs?").  But at any rate, we got to talking about faith, religion, and spirituality.  And as we talked, I started to share some of my own story.  I told him how I had grown up going to church, hearing stories from the Bible and developing a general familiarity with the Christian faith -- but it wasn't until I got to college that I really started to study the Bible for myself...  and when I got to this point in my story, it got a bit awkward because the gentleman tried to anticipate the end of my sentence for me and said, "and you learned for yourself some of the horrible things that were in there."  I paused and smiled, not sure if he was joking or not, and then awkwardly tried to correct him -- assuring him that, no, actually, when I really started reading the Bible for myself, I discovered what an amazing book it was... The conversation kind of died out after all that.  But I thought it was fascinating to observe his anticipations of where my story was going.  He had expected that any reasonable person would be revolted by the black-and-white truths of the Bible... even though my experience had been (and has been) entirely different.

When another friend of mine read my blog post about Elliot's voracious appetite for reading the Bible, her first concern seemed to be coaching Elliot through all of the "morally questionable" sections of the Old Testament.  And while she has read the Bible for herself (and has first-hand experience in trying to figure out things like the story of Judah and Tamar or the annihilation of the Amelekites), it's still interesting to note that her natural response to the idea of a child reading the Bible is one of caution, protection, and mitigation.

Clearly, there's a sense of fear and anxiety that comes along with the idea of reading the Bible.

It makes sense, then, why so many people are so concerned about finding just the right way to approach the Bible -- as if it were some kind of wild stallion that needed to be handled with extreme care.  And I would certainly agree that the Bible is best approached with some sense of holy fear... because it is a Holy Book.  There is a certain amount of mystery that enters into the process of reading the Bible (which I think actually adds to its appeal).  But honestly -- it's not that mysterious.  It's not that scary.  At least not in the ways that we typically make it out to be so.  I mean, seriously:  it's a Book.  People censor great literature all the time (and unfortunately, Christians have been some of the worst black-listers throughout history).  And it's typically because of the same problem, where we can't see the forest for the trees.  Was Huckleberry Finn a bad guy because he was a white guy who used the "N-word?"  Was Fagin pure evil because he ran a pick-pocketing operation in London?  Was Tom Joad a villain, considering the fact that he was an unashamed two-time murderer?  Do these (imperfect, fictional) characters deserve censure -- or do they possibly have more to offer, as a part of a bigger story?  Should we deprive ourselves of reading "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn," or "Oliver Twist," or "The Grapes of Wrath" because they have some passages that might take some explaining?  Or should we embrace the stories for what they are -- and what they might have to teach us, if considered in their entirety?  These are, of course, less-than-ideal comparisons to the Bible.  But I think they help to illustrate my point.  I cannot deny that there are some disturbing sections of the Bible... but on the whole, the story of the Bible is one of the most powerful, most beautiful, most meaningful stories ever told.  And I think most people -- even most seven-year-olds -- can understand this, from reading it freely.

That's why I suggest that a significant part of developing a passion for the Bible has to do with removing our "safe-guards" and allowing each individual to develop his or her own approach to reading the Bible, without any unnecessary interferance by others.  We need to realize that the Bible has a lot more life to offer than any kind of presumed danger.  And though questions may certainly present themselves in the process of reading the Bible, it makes a whole lot more sense to let those questions come to us -- as opposed to foolishly trying to predict or pre-empt any concerns that could possibly come up, and create whole sets of rules and guidelines to complicate the process of reading the Book.  Yes, confusion and misunderstanding are possible.  But not probable.  And in any event, it's best to give time, space, and "permission" to develop a personal style in reading and studying the Bible.

If there is anything to fear from the Bible, I think it has more to do with what Søren Kirkegaard suggests in the following quote:

The matter is quite simple. The Bible is very easy to understand. But we Christians are a bunch of scheming swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it because we
know very well that the minute we understand, we are obliged to act accordingly. Take any word in the New Testament and forget everything except pledging yourself to act accordingly. My God, you will say, if I do that my whole life will be ruined. How would I ever get on in the world?

Herein lies the real place of Christian scholarship. Christian scholarship is the Church’s prodigious invention to defend itself against the Bible, to ensure that we can continue to be good Christians without the Bible coming too close. Oh, priceless scholarship, what would we do without you? Dreadful it is to fall into the hands of the living God. Yes, it is even dreadful to be alone with the New Testament.

All of us -- both Christians and non-Christians -- need to challenge ourselves to approach the Bible in new ways.  All in all, I think we stand to learn a lot from it.  It really is one of the greatest works of literature of all time.  No other piece of writing has had anywhere near the level of impact on society, economics, culture, and history.  And if we can't let each other approach this great Book individually, then we are really missing out.

So we had kind of been hoping to be done with our kitchen (and other) renovations by the 1st of June... not for any particular reason -- except that we wanted to give ourselves deadlines, to cope with the stress of living in a construction zone.  Well, it turns out that we weren't able to meet that goal.  Not for a lack of effort.  It's just been a lot of work by a couple of inexperienced klussers who don't really know how to estimate construction time-lines too well.

Overall, we're very pleased with the progress we've made up to this point.

We've painted walls, installed cabinetry, installed appliances, installed countertops,  hooked up appliances, hooked up kitchen sink, installed overhead lighting, installed under-cabinet lighting, cut tiles, laid tiles, grouted tiles, installed stainless-steel backsplash, installed decorative wood paneling... and a host of other, smaller projects.  And that's all just for the kitchen!

We've still got some minor work to do in the kitchen (putting plinths under the cabinetry, installing a new faucet, installing the hood above the stove, and polishing some of the raw surfaces on the edges of the granite countertop, plus probably some other, unforeseen things) -- even though it's now past the 1st of June -- and we've also got some more significant work left to do in the dining room and in Cor's bedroom... But still, I'm pretty proud of what we've been able to accomplish up to this point.  It's turning out to be a really beautiful space.

Even though we can't say we're completely finished yet, I thought it still might be nice to post some pictures, as something of a progress report.

In addition to the kitchen, you can also see a couple of pictures, here below, of the living room during our project to lay new flooring (this is the one room in the house which is now pretty much completely finished).

Pretty cool, huh?  Oh, what a happy day it will be when we're all finished!