Category: Uncategorized

Where Good Ideas Come From by Steven Johnson

“Every day I walk by, the same man is there. His cigarette stained beard, weathered face, and baseball cap put his signature on the space. I wonder so many things about this man. Why doesn’t he work? How can he drink and smoke all day long everyday? What is his health like? How much does he actually drink? Is he happy with this life? What is his story?”

“Then I realize I am jealous.”

* * * * *

I was amazed at the detail.

“Fantastic, Viv,” I oozed. “You put in so much detail. You even drew breasts, and you managed to capture the blood vessels in my eyes.”

“Well, I didn’t actually didn’t put in all the detail,” Vivian said. “I left out your wrinkles.”

* * * * *

WIth enough makeup, I think, with enough caffeine, articles,  sales, and good reviews, maybe my inside will match my outside and I’ll be enough. I’ll feel like I’m supposed to feel at this point, when everything is going my way, when people are talking about my book, when readers stand in line to get my name scrawled across a page, when I am a very. important. person.

* * * * *

I have a much harder time negating the experience of my fellow believers. This summer, I asked readers why they do and don’t pray, and, while a lot wrote about God’s silence and absence, many also wrote about their own personal experiences of God. No matter how rational my version of Christianity, I cannot bring myself to the point of thinking that someone else’s claim of a God-experience is invalid.

* * * * *

“No, the stuff that changes everything starts on the fringe, captures the imagination of a dozen, who bring along colleagues or friends, and then it’s a hundred and then…”

“Make whatever list you want: Twitter, Kiva, 500px, Pure Food and Wine, Jiro…  They all became hits without being anointed by the loud folks first.”

“Instead of cajoling your way into the spotlight, consider investing in the experience first.”

* * * * *

Somehow, in the process of this thing called “growing up,” we lose our edges. Some of us have others sand them off – “You must wear a suit.” “Don’t be such an idealist.” “That’s not really appropriate behavior for a mom.” Some of us rub them off themselves – “What will my kids think of me?” “I’ll never find a husband if I shave my head.” “This is just what you do when you’re in your 30s.”

* * * * *

Maybe your light is softer, a little wavering, but that doesn’t make it less, doesn’t diminish it’s importance. Dim is not a kind of failure. Fluorescent is not a kind of success. The truth is, we need it all, every degree of brightness, every small, flickering light.

* * * * *

One of the most striking things about the calling of Matthew is that we don’t read about him repenting, changing his political views, or doing anything to suggest he was willing to follow a Messiah before Jesus called him.

Jesus could have been inviting an unbeliever right into his band of followers. At the very least, he added a volatile member of the opposition party to his disciples.

I met Tony Jones during my recent blogging trip to Sri Lanka with World Vision (please click HERE to help me sponsor ten children from the community we visited!). Tony is a great guy, someone I consider a friend. He is a super smart theologian, a successful blogger, and a widely read author.

He values community involvement and being a good neighbor – not just to his fellow Christians, but to everyone. So when he republished one of his older posts regarding his opinions on homeschooling, I wasn’t surprised to read that his dedication to being missional (allowing his love for those around him to be a witness of Christ’s love) led him to call for the death of homeschooling.

Having the view that homeschooling and being missional are mutually exclusive is such a commonly held, yet mistaken, belief.

* * * * *

If it wouldn’t be so judgmental, it would almost be humorous, the way we think we can speak into the lives of others on behalf of God in no uncertain terms. It is as if we cannot accept that the Spirit might be among the populace, moving and nudging and encouraging people to do things we cannot understand, even things we do not agree with.

And this is the heart of my disagreement with Tony. I do not dispute his right to believe that public schooling is the best way for his family to be a missional family, reaching out to those in his community. He knows his family best. But to throw a net so wide as to cover every Christian in this country, to infer that homeschooling is a mistake in every instance, seems overly simple to me.

Tony writes that “to withdraw my children from public education is to not play my (God-given) role as a missional member of society.” If he genuinely meant his own family in that statement, then there is no way that I could disagree with him. But it is obvious from the way that the article is written that he speaks not only for his own family, but for every other Christian family out there.

I am not surprised by the tone of the article – this is how we as American Christians communicate about issues these days. There is an alarming lack of humility. There is very little seeking to understand. We continue grasping for formulas on how to live, what to believe, or which political party to endorse. We argue over the best way to raise, discipline, feed, diaper, and clothe our children.

Guess what? There is no formula.

* * * * *

For over a year my wife took our older two children to a local food bank, the three of them teaching people how to make healthy meals with the food they were receiving. For four months we traveled the country, uniting writers and other creative folks, giving money to awesome organizations we found along the way, meeting in person people I had only known on the internet. We made friendships with total strangers at the various campgrounds we visited. For two springs I coached or helped to coach my son’s baseball team, getting to know the parents and kids in our community. In the past my wife has taught cooking classes to children. We have friends of many different religious and ethnic backgrounds come to our house for dinner and who invite us to their homes for birthdays or nights out.

Can a family homeschool and still be missional? Of course. Can a family send their children to public school and remain isolated? Of course. We have not “opted out of the societal contract” any more than someone who sends their kids to public school has automatically opted in. Perhaps twenty years ago the choice of whether or not to homeschool was an accurate litmus test on a family’s desire to be isolated or protect themselves from the evils of society, I don’t know. But even if it was then, it no longer is now.

* * * * *

What does surprise me is that Tony’s dogmatic stance towards homeschooling is an attitude I would normally expect to find among the fundamentalist crowd (simply aimed in the other direction and about some other topic like what books you are allowed to read or which political party is God’s party) – not the emergent group. I guess it goes to show that we all allow our own personal axe of judgment to fall from time to time, no matter how open and accepting we may otherwise be.

You know what would be compelling? If there was greater cooperation between the homeschooling world and the public school world, if there wasn’t so much animosity, judgment, and misunderstanding. My wife and I would LOVE to spend time at our local public school, reading to children or doing creative writing classes or volunteering in any way – but I generally feel like an outsider among most of the public school administration and faculty. And Tony’s approach only serves to widen the gap between the two communities, rallying public-schoolers around the perceived negatives of homeschooling and pushing the homeschoolers to circle the wagons in a defensive posture.

I think it’s clear to most that the level of education in our country is faltering. Perhaps if we committed to working together, instead of further splintering the various groups, our children would all benefit – homeschooled, public schooled, and private schooled alike.

Finally, a quote from NT Wright’s Surprised By Hope (via Jason McCarty):

“Of course, no one individual can attempt more than a fraction of this mission. That’s why mission is the work of the whole church, the whole time. Some will find God nudging them to work with handicapped children. Some will sense a call to local government. Others will discover a quiet satisfaction in artistic or educational projects. All will need one another for support and encouragement.”

As a parent, I could use your support and encouragement, as I’m sure you could probably use mine.

* * * * *

You can check out Tony’s original post here: Death to Homeschooling!

Or, even better, you can help me reach my goal of getting ten kids from Sri Lanka sponsored. Click HERE and scroll down for their names and profiles. Thanks!

Image copyright World Vision; photo by Matthew Paul Turner

I returned from Sri Lanka four weeks ago. I still calculate how many rupees I’m spending on a cup of coffee (usually a day’s wages). I still occasionally wake up at 3am, remember jet lag, and wonder what my friends in Sri Lanka are having for lunch. I think about Diwyan, the little boy my wife and I sponsor there, and wonder how he is doing. I wonder if he managed to hide from his brothers all three packs of colored pencils I sent home with him, as his parents said he would probably do.

It’s interesting to me – having seen the work that World Vision does, my return home hasn’t left me dragged down by the chains of guilt. I saw the hope in the people’s eyes as they spoke eagerly of welcoming World Vision into their community. They realized that because of World Vision, their children would be better off.

Laura, one of my new friends from the trip, wrote over at Hollywood Housewife:

I didn’t come home from Sri Lanka brokenhearted.  I know I’m not supposed to say that.  I know that I should tell you how hard it was to meet the poorest of the Sri Lankan nation, how my soul melted into a puddle at the sight of their anguish and how I wanted to come home and sell all of my earthly possessions.

But that is not how I felt.

…Our first stop was at a parade, where the joy was palpable.  The next few days were spent meeting people in great need.  They needed resources, education.  They needed clean water, a hug, and more food.  They needed access to electricity and drivable roads.  What they did not need, it seemed, was an explanation of hope. 

All of this to say that I’m not writing to you in an attempt to make you feel guilty, but rather with the goal of helping you to see that by spending only $35 a month you can help fulfill this hope for someone. Give them access to clean water, education, employment, and give them the hand they need to create a sustainable community.

I have set a personal goal of trying to get the following ten children sponsored in the next two weeks. They all live in the same community as the little boy that my family sponsors. Check out their profiles and consider sponsoring one of them (once you choose a child and move forward with sponsorship, please email me at shawnsmucker@yahoo.com and let me know so that I can take your child off the list).

Click on any of the names below to find out more about the child or to become their sponsor:

Thank you thank you thank you for considering this. And please help me to spread the word by sharing this post on Facebook, Twitter, or on your own blogs. Let’s work together to get these ten children sponsored. I’ll let you know as we make progress.

I cringed, hoping he wouldn’t see me. I stared intently at my newspaper, not even looking up while I took a bite of my large cheesesteak with extra cheese, sauce, peppers and hold the onions please. I read that paper so hard that I wasn’t even reading it – I was boring holes into it with my newly acquired super powers.

“He” was a man I had run into before in that farmer’s market, the kind of guy who locked on to you like a heat-seeking missile and, once engaged wouldn’t stop talking. A very large man, his walk was more like a waddle. His thick glasses magnified his sad and awkward eyes. The last time I made eye contact with him, a few weeks before, he talked to me for nearly fifteen minutes about who-knows-what.

So I stared at my newspaper, and I prayed he wouldn’t see me.

* * * * *

Later that night, I was trying to leave the same market when an older Amish man started asking me questions about my mom’s store. Turns out he runs the same kind of store in a different farmers’ market.

“Ha!” he laughed. “I charge one cent more for this. Can you believe it? CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?”

He stuttered when he talked and his bottom lip caved into his mouth so that I wondered if perhaps he had forgotten to put in his bottom row of false teeth. He dressed very sloppy, for an Amish man, and was also very talkative. I was not in the mood for talking.

At 35, I am mostly an old stick-in-the-mud.

So I tried to ignore him or shoe him away and finally, to my relief, he turned to go.

“Wait,” he said. “Can I try one of those?” He pointed to one of the chocolates in the case. “I don’t have one of those in my store.”

I sighed.

“Look, I really should be going,” I said.

“Oh, of course!” he blurted in a cheerful tone. “Of course, of course.”

* * * * *

I am beginning to realize that I am annoyed by all the wrong people. That is, if I’m going to attempt to live with Jesus as my model. Talkative down-and-outers routinely put me off, drive me away, and set me to biting my nails in a how-can-I-extricate-myself-from-this-conversation kind of way. I have far too little patience for people who do not impress me.

This is embarrassing to even write.

Jesus, however, was all about these people. He called Zacchaeus down from the tree and invited himself to Zacchaeus’s house for a meal. He not only spoke to these people – he spent entire afternoons with them! Voluntarily!

He cozied up for a conversation with the outcast (and rather talkative) woman at the well. He berated his disciples and told them to “let all of those annoying little children come to me” (or something like that). He never seemed to be exasperated with the down-and-outers, the outsiders – not even the notorious sinners. He treated them with dignity and respect and love.

Instead, Jesus saves his greatest outbursts of annoyance for those who appeared to have it all together. The ones who, by word and deed, kept the outsiders from coming to him. The ones who made up impossible rules to follow and then made everyone feel lousy about themselves when they didn’t live up to the legalism. The successful people. The esteemed.

When will I get it through my thick skull that the awkwardly lonely, the one hiding her hurt, and the one that everyone else avoids or laughs at is, in fact, the one that I should respect? Make time for? Assign value to?

When will I finally realize that these people are Jesus in disguise?