On Truth

I always seem to be on the wrong end of this one. Either I'm with a group of tie wearin' King James quotin' church-folk who hear my shades-of-gray and jump straight to hell-to-pay (get it? it rhymes!!!), or I'm hanging out with my guerrilla Marxist comrades in their berets and smoking their cigars and think I'm too quick to apply my definition of truth to others.

OK, so I don't regularly find myself in either of those groups, but I do often find myself alone out on a limb in one of these discussions that includes the fractious phrase "What is truth?"

This happened to me tonight at church. We were discussing a recommendable German movie that we had just finished (After the Truth) and The Question [ominous music here] came up. Whenever you start to answer one of these, everybody goes red-flag hunting and prepare themselves to shout you down when they don't want to hear what you have to say. I know this because this is also often what I'm doing.

So here's maybe a clarification of what I mean to say in these conversations and only rarely am able to articulate.

In regards to truth, I hold a position that is, at least in some sense, epistemologically relative. What I mean by this is that while I do believe that there is a transcendent truth (which I more typically refer to as God), I also believe that this truth is somehow inherently mysterious. So, while we can occasionally catch glimpses of truth, truth is not something that we can know like a fact, possess like a book, or wield as a weapon. To put it another way, our own knowledge of the truth stems only from our quick glances at it.

Since God (which you'll recall, is what I am referring to when I say truth above) is infinitely great and we are finite (and terribly ungreat), we cannot own or even store this truth without damaging or distorting it, due to the fact that we're squeezing something so ginormously huge into something so devastatingly compact.

So the truth is out there. There is, in fact, that one truth which is objective and useful as a standard, but due to our inability to comprehend it, our nontranscendent truth-statements are in fact relative to ourselves and our contexts.

I think that's what I meant to say.

A Page

There is a man who walks by the sea

Bearing the weight of the rags on his back

His feet dirty and calloused

His face wild like fire

I see him --

in mornings before the yacht club is up

in afternoons while the jet set loom overhead

at night when my fear and lonelinees ache for his

And I drive by.

I've wanted to stop --

to offer him socks for his feet

a sandwich to cure his pangs

an ear for a conversation

the cash I suddenly don't need

But I drive by.

My face strains in torment

A second or two and then lapses

And while I sleep in my bed at peace

There is a man who walks by the sea

An Almost Repost

I logged on tonight with the intention of just posting "And I still haven't found what I'm looking for." Then I realized that that was the entirety of my previous post. Almost two months have passed, but it seems like maybe nothing has really changed.

Life is more good than bad. The only real bad in my life is the repetitive droning on of everything. Maintaining a routine like this--just simply working--is something that I had not anticipated being so foreign while I was in college. There is no more summer vacation, Christmas holiday or spring break. There is only Monday through Friday, from here until eternity, it seems.

I have a good job. I have a really good job. Things are good. Things are Kansas.

Driving through Kansas, there were no real problems or difficulties or challenges; you knew what it was that you were up against. But it wasn't enjoyable, because for hundreds of miles it was the same routine. Check my speed. Adjust my throttle slightly. Check clock. Check fuel gauge. Check mirrors. Repeat.

What's the opposite of "I don't think we're in Kansas anymore"?

And I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

145

I still haven't found what I'm looking for.

re: to my friend

Malia had this great idea to send me a note via her blog as a way of posting the ever dreaded catch-up post.  So I'm one-part stealing it, one-part responding to her letter, and one-part...uh...it just seems like things should have three parts...

Dear Malia,

Thanks for your note!  Congratulations on finishing school!  Keep me posted on where you guys end up...Hawthorne is in fact right across the 405 from me.  How crazy circular would that be... Sadly, my church did just hire a new worship leader, and he's a pretty awesome guy, but if I hear any other leads I'll keep you posted.

My life  has changed quite a bit in the last year.  I guess the simplest way to put it is that I kind of feel like a toy boat in a bath tub while it's being drained.  I'm definitely heading somewhere, but it seems like whenever I think I have it figured out I get sucked towards the center of the vortex.  That metaphor sounds pretty negative; despite the tone, I do feel like whatever's down the drain is a good thing and is the right thing.

I work in an international broadcasting master control room (MCR).  I don't really know what that means either.  It goes pretty well, most days, and I seem to have worked my way into pretty good standing with the company.  It's a really good job, but I don't know that I see it as a career at this point.  Maybe that's where my life is going.  I'm just not sure.

I moved out here to El Segundo last January and had all of these wonderful plans.  The MCR job was an awesome divinely appointed type thing, and I saw that as my way to make rent while working for free as a youth pastor at the church.  The most difficult thing about living out here this past year has been watching in horror as my plan to do youth ministry slowly and painfully died.

I suppose at first that the main problem was that I was trying to do too much: I worked full-time, volunteered 25-30 hours a week at the church and tried to have a meaningful relationship at the same time.  I'm not a very good juggler.  Most nights, I worked until midnight and then got a few hours of sleep before turning up for work at the church at eight or nine.

So I stepped back a little bit sometime around June.  There had been some friction leading up to that point; I thought that the problem was my overloading myself, leading to my frustrations.  I tried to limit myself to fewer hours, but that completely cut me out of the leadership picture.  I saw areas where I felt like I could really help the program, but I had no desire to try to invest more of myself and end up back where I had started.  

So I stepped back even more.  I decided that maybe, just maybe, I was called to do youth ministry but not to be a youth pastor.  I considered applying to Fuller Theological Seminary to get an M.Div.  E-mailing with some professors to get a feel for some recommendations, my Hebrew professor from ORU really enouraged me.  I thought about what I really loved about my time at ORU, which was studying Hebrew and other biblical languages.  I applied to UCLA Near Eastern Languages and Cultures Department.

I did fairly well on the GRE, I got my letters of recommendation in order, I ordered transcripts, submitted work, and then I waited.  And as I waited I was truly excited again about what I'd be doing this fall for the first time in what feels like a long time.

And then I didn't get in.

And that's where I'm at now.  A former youth-pastorish MCR operator who holds a BA in youth ministry but doesn't really care to pursue it as a career and doesn't quite have enough to show for his knowledge of Hebrew to get into a grad school to pursue a career as an academic.

At the end of the day, though, I know that it will all work out.  I'm applying to schools again this year for the fall of 2010, I'm working on being better at my job everyday, I'm translating passages out of various OT passages to show that I might have what it takes....and I'm waiting.

Someday, I'll hit the drain and I'm sure it will be awesome.

In other news, my sister is getting married this fall to a friend of mine from my youth group days.  Should you two end up in Colorado, we'll be out there around October 10 and again around Christmas time, so hopefully, if you're out there, we can make at least one of those times work.

Tim

A Question

Is it arrogant and stupid to write memoir when you've no otherwise completely unnotable?

Perhaps Unexpected

Richard Simmons (yes, that Richard Simmons) may not be the same kind of person as the rest of us.  But chances are that's only because he's somehow better.

Some of the things he says and does might best be described as strange or odd, but he is one of the most genuine, kindest people I have ever met.  Which is amazing because of his celebrity.

At my place of work, I have the opportuni

ty to work with all manner of celebrities, from musicians and athletes to TV legends, presidential candidates, and even a former prime minister of Canada.  All of this to say that I deal with "famous" people on a daily basis, and the vast majority of them are just like the rest of us, more or less uncomfortable with new things like appearing on TV or whatever it is that they're doing.

Often, these people are in for what are called Satellite Media Tours.  These begin as early as four in the morning out here in LA so that whoever the guest is can be interviewed "live via satellite" on morning shows across the country.   When these guys are a little grumpy, I understand.  Some guests are absolutely legendary for their "demandingness" for no reason at all.  I don't really understand that.

But very few are actually nice, and of those who are, none are nicer nor more genuine than Richard Simmons, which gets me back to where I started.

Get over it that someone does things that you think are weird.  Malia (sorry, I can't bring myself to stop calling you Malia, old habits and all that) twittered the other day about how her predilection towards functionalism over fashionablism made her un-American.  I'm right there, too.  People think I'm weird because I don't want an iPhone, or I'm not sure I'd buy a house if I had the cash to do it outright, and certainly wouldn't buy anything resembling large.

I guess more than about not judging people who are weird, this is about being the person who is genuine.  I wish that genuine was an adjective that I would use to describe myself.

I guess I just want to be more like Richard.

This picture was taken after Richard finished an early morning media tour and should have been exhausted, and about two minutes after we first met.  Also, he talked pretty exclusively about how thin I am.

I miss writing.