The Power of an Idea

      I had a long conversation with a good friend yesterday - the core of the conversation was about whether an idea can hurt someone.  We were discussing a book recently released ("The Idolatry of God" by Peter Rollins) and whether reading the book can do damage to someone.  I know my friend reads this blog on occasion, so hey!  

     Anyway, afterwards, I was tired (I am guessing he was too) but that didn't make me stop thinking about our conversation.  I started thinking about the resistance to ideas throughout history.  Standing at a distance, I am sure we can all name some negative events in history where resistance to ideas were a central theme (Dark Ages, Nazis, etc,), but my question is a deeper one - what is it we are actually fearing when we fear an idea?  My friend compared the reading of materials that he disagreed with to intentionally cutting oneself and understood it not as a fear, but more as wisdom.  To me,  the expression conveys that the exposure to the material is a very painful experience.  Like the "fear" of heights.  Some would say it is healthy, but I would say that the fear of heights is actually the fear of death......and that fear is not a healthy thing, though the preservation of life is.  But I think the two stand opposed to one another.  I would love to have some discussion on this - leave a comment if you have thoughts on this.  

Do we need fear?

 

A Word on the Seahawks

     When I was a kid, I heard a lot of sermons that tried to guilt me for being a sports fan.  The basic idea was that if people will pack stadiums and scream and yell and cheer for (name your team), then how much more should we be excited about church.  No kidding - this was a frequently spoken sermon in the small church I was in for the majority of my childhood.  Even then, I was thinking, "this is just stupid".
     When the Hawks went down in shockingly quick flames yesterday, I thought about the pursuit of the idol. I've been reading Peter Rollins' new book, "The Idolatry of God - Breaking Our Addiction to Certainty and Satisfaction" (actually on my second run through in two weeks - it's that good) and the endless pursuit of a championship winning team in Seattle (in any sport) fit nicely into my thought processes.  I asked some friends, "What if we won the Superbowl?  What we do then?"  I asked them, and later posted a video I found on Youtube about this, "What if the Coyote caught the Roadrunner?  The illusion that it ever had any meaning at all would be gone.  And so it would be with the Hawks.  The movie would end, the credits would roll with Seattle in a dizzy blur of ecstacy, and then two days later, we would be left with the immediate need for next season to start - please, oh please let the illusion of meaning ensue again.
     I say this as a sports fan - meaningless, meaningless.....it's all so friggin meaningless.  Is it any wonder that Football and Church compete for the same time slot?  Are they not addressing the same thing? And are we not seeking to fulfill the exact same desire in the pursuit of them both?  This is why most of us, if we're honest, can identify with Homer Simpson's never-ending struggle to not have that radio headphone in his ear while sitting in the pews.  It feels so dang similar.  Just my two cents....

Seth

New Year's means.....

(This blog written to Damien Rice's cover of U2's "One")

I remember hearing Jerry Seinfeld say once, I think regarding birthdays, "I don't understand what the big deal is.  All you did was not die for a year."  I think this has always been my take on the New Year's holiday.  It feels very much like we are just looking for an excuse to not work for a day and though we spend much of the year complaining about the passage of time, we seem pretty psyched to celebrate getting a chance to write a new number on all of our checks, or in my case, research papers.

We have fun traditions, like New Year's resolutions, which are somewhat like trying to empty the sand from the ocean beach, one spoonfull at a time.  The reality is.......all that has happened is we've gotten older, just like yesterday.  Only there is something big here to mark that fact.

Now, I'm not really a cynical person, so this type of writing is a little off-character for me, but I am fascinated by the role holidays play in manufacturing safety and structure for us.  Having a child of my own now has brought this into a new light in my world.  This Christmas, I was sitting and wondering what I want my child to experience on the holidays.  Soon, I was imagining Kenya and I running like Marshawn Lynch down Pike St. in Seattle, dodging the NOISE like defensive lineman who, not unlike a Dementor, are seeking to suck any truth and real meaning from the holidays just as my daughter has started to feel the spirit of love eminating from that manger mom sets out on the mantel once a year.  I followed the daydream to it's end and found my daughter and I meditating in a monestary somewhere in the Sinai Desert.  Even there, in my daydream, there was a guy selling little hand-carved baby-Jesus statues just outside for a "very good deal".  It was discouraging, to say the least.

Here's where most of my friends say, "Geez Seth.  Why do you have to go all 'what is the meaning of all this' all the time? Just relax a little and try to enjoy yourself."  And that's probably good advice.  I'll try to.  When the clock counts down tonight and we all hoop and holler or kiss someone and make meaning of this specific tic of the clock, I'll try to be present right there, right then.  And maybe I'll know God right there, right then.  And maybe that's the point of it all.  Maybe New Year's isn't the celebration of time passed, but rather the celebration of a moment outside of time.  And maybe that's what I see in my daughter's eyes when those Christmas lights sparkle, something eternal and true.  Happy New Year everyone. :-)

A Central Tragedy

This is one portion of a paper I had to write for a class this semester.  It has to do with a tragedy in my life.  It's about a 5 minute read.  Would love to hear your thoughts.

             I lived most of my life with hell living inside of me, like a mouse in the walls of an old house.  It was an actual physical entity that dwelled inside of me and to this day, I am angry about it.  As long as I can remember, I was scared of going to hell and I had this one burning question on the tip of my tongue that I couldn’t ask any of the adults because I was scared of the answer, and I thought they would all think the question was foolish.  Until one day, I asked one of the adults who I had decided was possibly the one adult who could give me the answer that would take my fear away and confirm that, yes indeed, God was actually a nice guy.  His answer was a tragedy in my life and it caused a rift between God and myself that is only recently being reimagined.

            The question was this: If I commit a sin, say, tell a small lie or something trivial like that, and then were to go outside and be hit by a car and die without having confessed that sin, would I go to hell?  Perhaps the question seems simple, but its existence in my life was anything but simple and how that question had been formed at my core was a process of a very insidious nature.  There was the repetition of instruction about heaven and hell given to me every night at my bedside as a child and the conversations about what paradise would be like after we die. There was also the insistence that I remember every sin I had committed that day, each day, because we must “confess with our mouths” our sins to be forgiven and “we all sin every day”, so I would rack my brain trying to remember the sin I did that day and would end up confessing things that weren’t sin because I had to confess something.  Like the old Robert Johnson blues tune, “Hell Hound On My Trail”, hell was creeping up behind me and the devil was a deceiver and my chances were not good because I wasn’t smart enough to keep ahead of the game he had set up way back in the Garden of Eden. 

After some time in my life, the anxiety was palpable and I was conscious of it.  I needed answers, so I turned to a friend of my father’s who I had grown to love in my young life.  I was 13 at this time.  He was a black man and very tall and had a low voice and he had always been kind and gentle towards me.  He was a pastor in our church fellowship and had been a missionary for many years in Indonesia, so he qualified, in my mind, as a bona fied man of God. The felt experience I had when in his presence made me think he knew God, so when he was assigned to be my counselor at summer camp, I was excited, even relieved. 

The last day of camp, there was always a traditional campfire “come-to-Jesus” meeting that typically ended with many tears and confessions and rededications and conversions to Christianity.  It was after this event, when my dorm mates and I had returned to the dorm and there was more prayer and confession being done with our two counselors, that I decided to approach this giant man with my question.  I remember it very clearly: I phrased it simply, just as it had always existed in my mind and heart.  When I uttered the final words, “will I go to hell”, he looked at me as if I had just asked him what two plus two was.  He simply said, “Yes”. 

I remember the feeling very well.  It was like in the movies, when the reactor is about to meltdown and some character is shouting, “SHUT IT DOWN!  SHUT IT ALL DOWN!!!”  In the movie, people begin toggling switches down as fast as their hands will allow so as to prevent utter destruction.  So it was with my heart.  I felt a shut down happen almost instantly.  My heart was retreating from the god I had always feared existed, but never wanted to believe in.  Since not believing wasn’t an option because it was very clear I would go to hell if I didn’t believe, my soul underwent a separation process.  It was like there was a part of me inside, perhaps the child-like side that Jesus referred to, that knew what was true or not because of a pure creative energy that I was born with.  And now I felt that part of me break off and fall by the wayside.  I don’t remember any words or conversation from the rest of that evening or that week.  I don’t remember feeling much about God after that until in my early twenties when the depression was so heavy that I began to search for a way out of my life, either by death or by healing.  Either would be fine.  It turns out that I preferred healing. 

    

Rwanda Report and Vision for December, 2012

Dear Supporter,

            I am writing you because you have supported me in the work I have been doing in Rwanda over the last several years.  I am incredibly grateful for everything that you and many others have done and all you have given to make some wonderful things happen.  We are on the brink of something HUGE and I wanted to fill you in the details as I continue to ask for your support.  First, here is what has been accomplished through your support over the last two years:

          When I did the first training 2 years ago, there were around 250 kids in the Play for Hope programs and no trained coaches.  Within six months of the first two trips/trainings that you facilitated through your giving, that number had jumped to ten trained coaches and about 850 kids in the program.  That’s 850 (that number is up to 1,000 now) poor children, many of them homeless, that have been given mentorship, a place to belong, a team to be a part of, and an opportunity to thrive that they did not have before because our coaches were prepared to lead. 

-       We have opened Heroes Soccer Academy.  We now have a full team of boys, who were mostly living in a landfill (yes, a garbage dump) before, in full-time school and academy soccer training.  They are living in a home with trained Play for Hope Coaches that has been funded by Play for Hope Supporters all over the world.  http://playforhope.org/academy.html

-       We now have 7 paid full time coaches and one paid assistant.  They are some of the most respected and highly trained coaches in Rwanda.  Many of them come from desperately poor situations (many from the streets themselves) and are now able to do what they love and are gifted at as well as provide for their families.  Your support of my endeavors was the giving that spawned this. 

-       We are taking the lead in empowerment for female athletes.  Our girls, as well as boys, are now being called upon to tryout for the youth national teams and there is a new respect being achieved for female athletes…and the girls are loving it.

These are some of the highlights, among many.  Now, for what is to come and the reason I am calling on you for supports once again:

My life is madness nowadays with graduate school, work, a brand new baby girl, and coaching as much as possible.  In spite of the lack of time, I have been able to explore a new connection for Play for Hope and December’s trip is about this. 

Steve Zakuani of the Seattle Sounders is one of the young stars of the MLS – he is also a man who has a heart for the poor and disenfranchised children and wants to do something about giving them opportunities to achieve greatness.  His non-profit organization Kingdom Hope (http://kingdom-hope.org) is seeking to build academies around the world that would give an opportunity to those without an opportunity – to become what they were created to be and achieve greatness in life and sport.  As he and I have cultivated a relationship, we have begun asking what we could accomplish together and so he has agreed to accompany me to Rwanda this December, in spite of his insane schedule, and examine closely the possibility of building an academy that would facilitate our goals and dreams in Play for Hope as well as those of Kingdom Hope.  We are prepared to receive him and what we hope will come from this is the greatest soccer academy in East Africa and a way to provide opportunities for the poor children of Rwanda at a completely new level.  Here’s what would happen if we succeed:

-       Opportunity to play through fields and transport: the key to everything in soccer.  Our players train on what can only be described as cement dirt with patches of grass and goats around them that becomes clay-mud when it rains.  It is very very difficult to train well when the ball can’t roll.  Even our Heroes Academy boys train on a field that is unthinkably bad.  The few turf fields that exist in the country are very expensive to train on.  We would also be able to purchase vehicles to facilitate games for our kids.

-       Food – those living at the academy, like those at Heroes Academy would be given healthcare and regular nutrition.

-       Education – we would build a school to educate and empower our kids.  Many of them don’t have any education at all….it is our dream to prepare them for life….education is the key.

-       Truth – mentorship, direction, and the truth of God’s love would be the foundation of the curriculum in our school. 

Anyway, you can see why I am excited about this.  So, here’s what I am asking and hoping for.  Travel is still very expensive to Rwanda – I have to raise $3,000 for my airfare and room and board to be able to make this work.  I am hoping and praying for your support and am so grateful for everything you have provided for over the years.  I wish each and every one of you could see with your own eyes what has been accomplished through your help.  Donation info is as such (I travel in mid-December):

1.     You can donate online: 2 minutes and it’s done:  http://playforhope.org/contribute/tripdonations/sethtaylor.html

2.     You can mail donations (made out to Play for Hope with nothing in the memo line) to me at 2315 NE 27^th St. Renton, WA  98056. 

3.     You can call me and we can get together for coffee and talk about everything and discuss it then. (-:  I would love to do that. 

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all of your love and help.  What we’re doing over there is so big…..and you are the key.  God Bless…..

                                                                                          In His Spirit,

Steve Zakuani with Kingdom Hope

Hero Academy Boys in training

                                                                                                      

Seth and Mbaraga Djuma (former street kid - now a Hero)

Seth at the first training in 2010

Training (with translator) on practice organization in 2010

  

Fatherhood from a Drive-Thru

    I am going to be a father - in less than two months.  You know this already.  It just hit me.  I had a few weeks of bliss and have now entered into the "holy (pick your expletive)" stage and I am starting to realize that for the first time in a bit, I am heading into territory that is completely foreign to me.  It just seems so fitting in my life and in an era of hyper-speed-everything that fatherhood would come this way.  I am 36 years old and I guess if I look at it in a certain way, 2 months to prepare at 36 is better than what, say, my brother dealt with as a newly wed at 22 - 9 months to get used to an idea.
    I will be a little vulnerable here and tell you that I miss my dad a lot right now.  When I say that, I am aware that I hardly remember him.  It's like missing an imprint, a shadow, an empty space - the "Khora" as Plato called it - the empty yet pregnant space in my life where possibility is the only reality.  It feels like there was something that was supposed to be here called "my father".  He was supposed to be here and share some wisdom with me having gained that wisdom over many years of allowing life to teach him and mold him into a man who was familiar with struggle and joy and understood how to hold them together in the same space and simply love without pretense.  But, he's not here and what I have instead is an ideal that may or may not have happened.  He may have been like so many older people in my life - slowly breaking down on levels they don't even perceive, decaying from the inside-out, wrapped in "truths" that are like old frosting on a moldy cake.
  On a brighter note: I also have an arm-full of wonderful friends that are fathers and I have been asking them advice a lot about fatherhood.  The number one piece of advice I get from them is this: Don't let it come between you and your wife.  This advice is often given with a voice of regret - so, I have logged that one away and I am bracing for the adventure of my life.  I have been daydreaming about this for 6 years and the reality is coming, like a Big Mac and fries - quick and ready to go.  I am not ready...not sure I could be even if I stopped everything and focused on only that fact.
    In the middle of this, I am heading to Rwanda for two weeks.  I'll do some writing from that place and I am sure it will be tinted with the slow-groove that is Africa.  I have some more to say regarding impending fatherhood and what it brings to my heart and mind.....stay tuned. (-:

Seth

On Easter - The Cosmic Nature of the Cross

    I find myself asking this question a lot lately:  What was the nature of what happened on the cross of Christ?  I know for some this question is irrelevant because the historicity of the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth is questionable by some standards.  But for those of us that believe that it happened and that it was the folcrum point of history, the question remains, what exactly happened?  It's easy to say things like, "sins were forgiven" or "man was made to be in right standing with God", but I am asking something deeper, questioning the very substance of the transformation that happened.  I question this because many of the people I see that claim to believe that man was made in right standing with God because Christ took on himself the sins of the world are the ones I see who live as if a further sacrifice is required.  Put simply, when Jesus uttered those words, "It is finished" (John 19:30), was something finished?  Now, I am well aware of the long history and tradition of theology that has been mined from the ancient scriptures regarding this concept - but I am asking this question based on one thing: observation.  Why do we behave as if the words of Christ were, "It is nearly done if you can simply stop sinning and make sure people know you disapprove of (insert sin of choice)."  This behavior seems to indicate that for some, nothing was finished at all.  They are no different than the ancients, needing to offer one more sacrifice so that the gods can be appeased. 

    My point is that Easter represents the finish line for me.  Something changed the day Jesus rose from the dead, for everyone for all time.  I make no exceptions to that idea, regardless of anyone's interpretation of scripture.  I can't say I know what changed at the core of the substance of the universe, or if that is even something that happened at all.  It is simply beyond my comprehension.  But, I can say that something has changed in me.  I lived most of my life as a religious person offering sacrifices on the proverbial altar in hopes that God's wrath would be appeased, but now I have come to see that when Jesus said it was finished, he meant it.  Nothing is required, all is at an end.  As Tolkien wrote, "Now comes the dawn..."