I was sitting Tuesday afternoon at a Starbucks answering email and doing some other work and every few seconds someone at a table near me would shout, “Peel.”
This would be disconcerting to many, I suppose, but to us initiates, it was musical. Bananagrams was in the building.
A year and a half ago, our friend Robin at Funtoysia, a store I should never approach without surrendering my credit card to someone wise and trustworthy, recommended a new game called Bananagrams. Being a sucker for games and trusting her recommendations, I laid down one of my best spent $14.95 ever. This has become a Greenwald family favorite game.
Shortly thereafter, we took it with us on a visit to family in Cincinnati, and for hours on New Year’s Day there was a continuous game being played at my sister’s family room table.
Bananagrams is a word game played with Scrabble-like tiles. The object is to take a set number of tiles and create interlocking words, much like would occur on a Scrabble board, except that every player is creating his own ‘board’. The winner is the one who uses the last available tile. If you can spell, you can play.
It’s most endearing feature is its banana shaped package. It’s pure marketing genius.
We’ve found that it can even be a multilingual game. My son-in-law speaks very little English. So, when he’s played with us, we simply allow him to create his words in Spanish. (I believe, though, that he cheats – using words from two languages at once just is not playing fair.)
Bananagrams is $14.95 wherever you buy it. So I suggest that those in the Bradenton-Sarasota area find their way to Funtoysia and pick it up there. Tell them ‘Randy’ sent you and they’ll, well, they won’t do anything, really. But tell them anyway!
Oh – what does ‘peel’ mean? Buy the game and you’ll find out. Or ask the next guy you see playing it at Starbucks.
Maturity always welcomes reasoned critique. That is why I have such a problem with criticism. I lack the maturity to receive it well. That is my sin.
But there is a helpful method of critique, and a destructive method.
A friend passed on this link to me in response to my recent post about the success of our own art show. I believe that our defense of what we have done is adequate and speaks for itself. We know what our goals and intentions were, and what we aimed at, we reached. We were seeking to love the community in which we have been placed. We are trying to learn what it means to love the sinners around us. This was one means to do so spawned by the community we are in and the people God has put in our church.
The post which my friend passed on was not aimed at us, but took a broad brush mocking stance against all efforts to bring the arts and the church together. The stance itself is puzzling to me, but the tone disappoints me.
I sincerely fail to understand how criticism couched in mocking tones is of benefit to anyone. And yet, there is a strata of gifted reformed leadership whose chosen voice is mockery of which this is but one example.
It is a shame. In Christ’s church we have so much to learn if we would only talk to and listen to one another. Mockery and sarcasm, though warm and funny and reassuring to the insiders only shuts down meaningful conversation and slaughters any hope of real communication and growth in the body.
Are we at HPC beyond critique? Absolutely not. We can learn from the thoughtful insight of others. But not when the critique is hateful. And that is the shame.
Joe Bayly was a gifted writer who during his career was able with a whimsical but pointed humor to cause evangelicals to examine their hearts and practices. There is no better example of this than his Gospel Blimp. His sons, and those of this mold, have all the gifts but that of the disarming whimsy. They see much clearly, much that could be of benefit to others. But, I’m sorry that I am not able and, I admit it, not willing to listen to those who pontificate with such broad condescending and critical strokes.
I hesitate to say this because I see my own sin. There have been occasions when I have, in haste, posted to this blog critical posts which were every bit as condescending and graceless as the worst of others. I know the sin of which I am capable.
Critique is necessary, and sometimes that needs to be firm and direct. Love demands that. But love, it seems to me, while calling forth honesty, eschews mockery.
When you put Alfred Hitchcock in place as a movie’s director, and give him Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman to work with as his leading man and woman, you have a splendid lineup for a smashing good movie.
How, then, could Barb and I be unimpressed. Even after reading on Rotten Tomatoes that it contained one of the most famous kisses in movie history, we were left wondering which kiss that was.
There is a good amount of suspense, and the movie was wonderfully shot. But I guess my expectations were just too high given the power and reputation of the movie’s principles.
I suppose if a church were to sponsor a tractor pull, it would raise some eyebrows. If we were to host a UFC fight in our sanctuary, questions would be raised. So, I can understand that a church hosting an art show and music coffee house is an odd and unusual thing which begs for explanation.
This event was sponsored by Hope Presbyterian Church as a community oriented event celebrating God’s creative gifts. So, Friday and Saturday nights of last week, our auditorium was transformed into an art gallery / coffee house. Couches and tables set off the music side of the room, and displays of local artists adorned walls and tables on the other side.
Through the course of both nights, local musicians played sets of 45 minutes to an hour. We did not require that the artists or musicians be Christians. Our heart was to build bridges to communities which have developed suspicions of conservative Christianity. We simply wanted to provide a venue where artists could have their work seen and heard. Art was for sale, and some sold. Music was provided free, and some tips were received. Generally both nights we had a consistent presence of at least 60 constantly rotating people in the room at one time. At the high point on Friday night, we estimate that a hundred people were in the room, most of whom would have been people who never before had set foot in our church (and perhaps any church).
Certain risks attach themselves to any such effort, of course. That the final song in the wonderful set by the group Haitz was a lively acoustic version of “Rock ‘n’ Roll All Night” by Kiss was somewhat of a surprise. Truth be told, I enjoyed it.
This event does not appeal merely to art ‘snobs’. It does attract the artistically oriented, of course. One man who is now a member of Hope Church includes our hosting of this event as one of the reasons he was attracted to us in the first place last year. He is an artist whose presence has greatly blessed us. But it’s appeal is broader than the artistic community. We find that it appeals to people who are just looking to enjoy a fun evening. Hope’s associate pastor Geoff Henderson had several friends from his kayak fishing on-line forum attend and they commented on what a good time it was.
I believe that we did bless the community. And, in return, the community blessed us. At best such an event is pre-pre-evangelism. And as such we cannot always count our success in terms of ‘souls saved’. But we pray that God is using this labor to build bridges which will give the world a far more positive view of the church and, ultimately, of the Christ who is our Lord.
I understand the financial crisis that print news is facing as the internet plunders their readership and advertising dollars. As a result, the newspaper showed up at our house today in a new format. It is thinner (by my estimate, 1.5 to 2 inches) and may be shorter. There are no additional pages, the type is reasonably the same size and shape.
The publisher explained these changes in this way, roughly paraphrased: “We are giving you less in a smaller package, for the same amount of money, and this is good for you.” (For example, the smaller format makes it less likely my open newspaper will flop in my wife’s cereal bowl over breakfast.)
I understand the need for the changes, and I understand the need to try to explain these things in as positive a way as possible. But sometimes honesty can be more powerful than spin. I wonder if the paper considered an article that explained the changes as necessary in the light of a shrinking readership and advertising stream, presuming upon the readers’ loyalty and good sense to keep them on board?
It reminds me of a letter we received once from a bank explaining to us why the increase of fees they were instituting were good for us.
And it reminds me that I need to examine my own heart and my own leadership. Good news is easy to communicate. Painful news cries out for spin, and spin is not always the best policy.
The following story is true. No names have been changed.
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Wednesday, April 29, 2009, 11:33 AM: Wife in crisis calls me to tell me that she had just gotten off the phone with Apple support and it had been confirmed that her 250gb iMac hard drive was dead. Tears bespoke her desperation.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009, 1:46 PM: Randy searches internet desperately for technical help on how to replace the hard drive on an Intel iMac, discovering that Apple does not WANT average Joe’s performing such delicate surgery.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009, 2:04 PM: The local Apple service center offers to replace the hard drive for ~$200. $100 for the identical 250gb drive and $100 for labor. Randy is incensed.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009, 4:27 PM: Randy detaches the iMac from its cabling, lays it on the kitchen counter, and searches for a means of access. Notes that only certain types of drivers will loosen the screws.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009, 4:44 PM: In a fit of desperation, Randy watches a ten-minute YouTube video of some guy changing the hard drive on an iMac on his bed.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009, 4:54 PM: Randy orders a 640gb hard drive from Amazon.com for $67 including overnight shipping charges.
Thursday, April 30, 2009, 11:46 AM: Randy buys set of mini-Torx drivers at Sears for $10 on way to lunch appointment.
Thursday, April 30, 2009, 4:00 PM: Wife calls to report that the hard drive has been delivered.
Thursday, April 30, 2009, 4:23 PM: Armed with YouTube knowledge, new set of Torx drivers, and shaky confidence, Randy begins surgery with the help of the lovely Nurse Barb.
Thursday, April 30, 2009, 4:42 PM: Having found his way in and out of the patient’s vital areas, the final Torx suture is applied to the iMac, and he is hauled back to the desk where he resides. Upon being powered up, he begins to restore the operating system.
Thursday, April 30, 2009, 4:43 PM: Randy becomes a huge fan of YouTube videos. (And of automatic backups to external hard drives. They say there are two types of people in the world: those who back up their data and those who wish they had. Three times now, in the past fifteen years, we are glad that we had backups.)
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NOTE: I was really impressed with myself, being able to do this with the help of a YouTube video. However, this story trumps my own. I plan to stick to hard drives.
Robert Wright begins his article “One World, Under God” (see here and here) with an idea that many find compelling. He says:
“For many Christians, the life of Jesus signifies the birth of a new kind of God, a God of universal love. The Hebrew Bible—the “Old Testament”—chronicled a God who was sometimes belligerent (espousing the slaughter of infidels), unabashedly nationalist (pro-Israel, you might say), and often harsh toward even his most favored nation. Then Jesus came along and set a different tone.”
No doubt, when the scriptures are read, some come away with the idea that the god of the Old Testament is different god than the one found in the New Testament.
The shame is that few reflect deeply about what it would mean if that were so. If this god waffled once from harsh to gentle, what is to keep him from flopping back to his former harshness under certain unforeseen future circumstances? Nothing.
Of course, if that is what the text reveals, then it is our authority. We must learn to live under the shadow of that monstrous uncertainty. However, there is a different and more satisfying way of reading the data which is worthy of consideration.
When I google ‘god’ I get about ‘about 510,000,000’ results. Rightfully, googling ‘man’ generates an appropriately lesser 200,000,000. (Although, curiously, ‘woman’ returns ‘about 525,000,000’ results. Conclusions, anyone?) And then, of course, googling ‘Randall or Randy Greenwald’ would lead you to about 155,000 destinations, only a couple of which would actually be me.
All of which is to say that God is big; I am not. Which is only part of my point.
Martha Budd Greenwald was a school teacher in Loveland, Ohio. For many years she taught girls health and physical education, and occasionally English, at Loveland Junior High.
She was good at what she did. And she was tough. She made students work. She would put up with no back talk or disrespect. She would coach younger teachers (like me, her son) to begin each school year with a firm hand, letting up only when respect and control were established.
Occasionally, she would be thinking deeply about something, and students would look at her and assume she was angry, whether she was or not. Her serious face was a mean face. This only added to the mental perception students had of her. And that is the only way some students remember her. Mean, tough, demanding.
So, I googled her. The top hits for her were at ‘meanteacher.com’ and other results favor the words strict’ and ‘harsh’ and ‘mean’ next to her name.
Just kidding. I made that up.
In reality, I expected no hits since she has been dead for over ten years. Surprisingly, there she was, generating a half dozen links on the first page of results, every one of which having to do with some kid who was heading off to college with a $500 scholarship provided by an endowment my mom set up before she died. Dozens of kids have benefited from this small gift which was the result of her caring foresight.
Other than being touched by this (I’d forgotten about the fund she had set up), what do we learn from this?
Let me ask it this way: is it appropriate to draw the conclusion that since she revealed herself as strict early (in her career or school year) and as caring later that she changed? Should we speak of a ‘Martha’ who was fundamentally and essentially different in one era than in a former era? Would we say that her latter years “signified the birth of a new kind of Martha”?
We could. But such a conclusion would only be warranted if all the evidence pointed to it.
A better way of interpreting the data would be to understand that at a particular stage in this woman’s relationship with those under her authority, she felt it most wise to emphasize certain aspects of her personality. Then, later she found it wise to emphasize other dimensions. All the while, she is the same essential person who has not changed. When strict, she was also capable of and revealed great tenderness, and when tender, one knew there was a firmness underneath that was to be respected.
This latter interpretation, of course, is actually the true picture of my mother.
It is also the true picture of the God of the Bible.
God did not change when he graduated from the Old and entered the New Testament. In a variety of situations and settings, the emphasis in revelation falls upon different aspects of his essential being. But he is the same God whose character never changes.
For mankind to come to grips with its rebellion and sin, it must see God as a holy and terrifying God of judgment. God reveals his holiness in the Old Testament (though even these books are slathered with God pictured as a shepherd caryring injured lambs close to his bosom or as a mother hen spreading her protective wings over her brood). God in the Old Testament clearly chooses to emphasize his holiness.
The burden of the New Testament is to show how this holy God invaded time in the person of Jesus Christ with the intention of drawing rebellious sinners out from his wrath and into his favor through great acts of sacrificial love. It is no surprise that the emphasis here falls upon his love and grace. All the while, this loving, redemptive God of love does not cease to be a consuming fire.
If we come to the Bible with the preconception that it is a collection of human stories about a god idea, then either interpretation will do. It’s all an academic game, anyway. But if we come to the Bible and find it to be a book in which God is revealed, it is hard to read it in any other way than as a full orbed God revealing himself in time according to the wisdom of his purpose.
And one aspect of the beauty of that picture is that this God never changes.
(And, yes, that picture above is a shot of one of the streets in the small town in which I grew up.)
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Tim Keller is a pastor and author in Manhattan. After the publication of his book The Reason for God he was invited to address the employees at Google on that subject.
Some of you might find some value in listening to this presentation.
Some of you began January with grand visions – reading the Bible, getting exercise, praying, having a new neighbor over each month, or something similar.
It is now the end of April, and you see that your visions faded into fantasy. And with that, you have lost hope.
Don’t.
Why not begin again? Tomorrow is the first day of May. If you were on a ‘through the Bible’ reading plan, pick up tomorrow with the reading that is for May 1 and go on from there. Whatever your goal, you can begin fresh tomorrow. Forget what is past. Start again.
All is not lost.
May 1 is the new New Year. (Which, of course, makes April 30 the new New Year’s Eve! Yeah!)
Members of Hope Presbyterian last night hung art, moved tables, and decorated space in preparing for the fourth annual Art show and coffee house, transforming a room into an art gallery and leisurely music venue.
And boy, does it look nice.
Make plans to be in attendance Friday AND Saturday nights. The art won’t change, but there is a different lineup of local musicians each night.
One of the delights of Sundays for us is company. We love to have people home for lunch and talk with them and sometimes to hear their stories. One such story emerged this past Sunday.
Bill K told the story of his chain-smoking grandfather. This man was a South Carolina butcher who, one day, had pretty much cleaned up his shop and was ready to go home, when in walked a woman looking for a chicken. So, he happened to have one in the cooler beneath the counter which he could give her without having to delay his leaving. So he reached down and pulled it out. She looked at it and said, “I was looking for something a bit plumper.’
Slyly, he took the chicken down, put it in the cooler, and squeezed and massaged it until it looked plumper, and then brought it up and set it on the counter – the same chicken. The woman was pleased with this one, and said, “I think I’ll take both of them.”
A year and a half ago, our friend Robin at Funtoysia, a store I should never approach without surrendering my credit card to someone wise and trustworthy, recommended a new game called Bananagrams. Being a sucker for games and trusting her recommendations, I laid down one of my best spent $14.95 ever. This has become a Greenwald family favorite game.
