Wrongful Death Suit...

Thank goodness for CNN. If it weren't for them, I'd never know that "Family Remembers Farrah Fawcett" or that there are "New Ways to Double Phone Battery Life." (Real stories, folks...)

Today's little informational nugget reads, "MJ's Dad Files Wrongful Death Suit." And while normally very little on CNN gives me pause, this article does.

I'll cut to the chase: Wrongful death suit? Really? You REALLY want to file a wrongful death suit regarding someone who abused narcotics on a daily basis? Michael Jackson was addicted to sleeping pills AND uppers. Sure, his doctor shouldn't have prescribed them. But filing a wrongful death suit is kind of a slap in the face to the King of Pop himself. I mean, the guy willfully took those risks. As any four-year-old knows, when you choose X, you choose the foreseeable consequences of X.

I'm fascinated by the Western attitude that death is something outrageous. We're surprised every. single. time. someone passes away. It's not like anybody in recent history has escaped that fate. (A shout-out to my good buddy Elijah the prophet, who passed Go and collected $100!) It seems like one out of every three commercials is about some product meant to turn back the clock. We're told we need to fight the battle on everything from wrinkles and osteoarthritis to breast cancer. And I totally get it. Death is not normal. We weren't originally meant for decay and sin. Death is a foreign concept to heavenly beings, which is what God intended for us to be all along. So, of course we're all a little jarred when somebody we love (or just read about in the paper all the time) kicks the bucket. But pretending like we can somehow "cure" death or prevent aging is a ludicrous way of handling the reality that one day, we're all doing to be six feet under. Pushing daisies. Doing the dead man's float. And so on, and so forth.

And this is a real issue in need of discussing because death anxiety runs rampant in our society. Everybody's trying to squeeze the last possible second out of life, not because they're living out their intended purposes but because they're afraid of what comes next. Living in fear is no way to live, people.

The solution to the problem of dying isn't pretending like it's not going to happen. The solution to the problem of dying is finding new life in Christ. It's recognizing that this is only the beginning. I'm not saying that the death of a loved one isn't saddening. I'm saying we've got to stop acting surprised that it happens, and that starts with acknowledging that we're not meant for this life. There's something better on the other side.

You wanna avoid a wrongful death? Try dying the right way. (Ohhh, snap.)

:)

Spiritual Leadership.

I was sipping my peppermint coffee (ah, the joys) and watching CNN when a segment called, "Ted Haggard: I'm a changed man" came on. Now, there's nothing I like more with my morning brew than a good bit of scandal. But usually that void is filled with Twilight spoilers and other PG gossip. As I watched the segment, my spirit writhed about in discomfort. This isn't the flippant fluff I'm used to watching. This is personal. This hits close to home.

As a lifelong resident of Colorado Springs, New Life Church has played a prominent part in my community and at least a peripheral part in my life. I have attended New Life services off and on, and regularly attended the Mill during my college days. Even if the whole mega church scene made me uncomfortable, I respected what New Life did in the community. (And I STILL respect what New Life does in the community, for the record.)

When the whole Ted Haggard scandal exploded, it really did rock this city-- and not in the good, hair metal, 80s kinda way. Even those of us who side-eyed New Life culture still felt wounded by the charade and hypocrisy Haggard engaged in, and we empathized with our brothers and sisters who were deeply rooted at New Life.

I worked for a Christian nonprofit at the time, and many of my friends and coworkers had attended New Life for ages. We openly prayed for the church community and for Ted's family. A cloak of sorrow fell across my company, and the Colorado Springs community at large.

So now, to hear that Ted is coming back to minister... I just don't know how I feel about that.

It's likely to be a contentious topic. This man was the spiritual father to countless people in this town, and probably across the nation. When he left the city, he gave us all space to heal. But for him to not only start another church, but to start it in the very city he wounded... I don't know. It upsets me, but I'm willing to believe that's a wrong attitude.

I suppose the root of my tension stems from this question: Should a man who fell so far into sin be leading anyone? And hear this before you jump down my throat: Of COURSE all pastors sin. Pastors are people. I get it. I understand that completely. But when the sinning has become a lifestyle-- one that Haggard went out of his way to cover up with MORE sin-- when the sinning has become ingrained in a man's personality, should he really be in a position of authority? And even if he has been healed by the Lord, does that mean he's fit to pastor another congregation? 1 Timothy 3:2 says, "Therefore an overseer must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach..." So, is it wrong of me to think he's unfit to lead when he has a history of violating so many of these things?

Perhaps that question has value, and perhaps it doesn't. Maybe I'm emphasizing the wrong thing here. What matters in MY life is whose leadership I follow. So I ask myself: Would I be willing to follow Ted Haggard at this point in time? My flesh says no, but maybe I'm in the wrong. I'm still parsing it out. The idea of subjecting myself to his teachings is nothing short of ludicrous.

So, here I sit, nursing a now cold cup of coffee. I'm thinking about the impact this will have on Colorado Springs. I'm thinking about how the church ought to respond to this development. My thoughts and feelings are still evolving, and I'm not dogmatic about anything. It'll be interesting to see how this plays out...

Home.

Four years ago if you had told me that Doug Mauss and I would fall in love, get married and have a baby, I would have laughed in your face all the way down the aisle. I'd always admired Doug. I thought he was funny, whip smart, unique, and full of integrity. So what in the world would he ever see in me? Doug is button-up dress shirts and I'm a hand-me-down Pride soccer tee. Doug is a cappella and ultimate frisbee. I'm amateur belly dancing and... NOT a cappella...

I don't think any of our friends saw this coming. Our age difference alone was enough to keep us from even dreaming we'd be a match. But here we are, against the odds, joined together in the eyes of God. Our shared mailbox and mingled laundry are proof of our integration, as is our precious daughter, Fay.

I know Doug. I KNOW him, like I know how long to microwave the water for my tea, how many minutes my curling iron takes to heat up, where to find the light switch in the dark. I know him intuitively. And yet there are always surprises, like learning that he can do a dead-on impression of Dolores O'Riordan singing, "Zombie," or the fact that he was technically in the military for three months. Those are the things that keep me fascinated by my husband.

And even though we're an odd couple in some ways, we are so obviously perfect for each other in many more. Who else could weather my bouts of petulance with such patience? And who else but me could call him out on his pride with confidence? What other man would stroke my hair for hours until he was sure I was asleep? And what other woman would fold his shirts according to his meticulous preferences?

I guess what I'm getting at here is that somehow, God has taken the daily struggles and victories and used them for His glory. By unraveling and refining the fibers of our individual beings, He has knit us together. We are so united that sometimes we each forget how alike we've become, how connected we are. Our shared wry humor, penchant for trivia, and mutual distaste for tomatoes occasionally get lost in the daily grind. But those similarities-- our philosophies and woundings, our joys and sorrows-- are what keep us holding on, fighting for the purpose of marriage.

Somehow, miraculously, God has given us solace and refuge in one another.

This week we embark on another adventure. We are closing on our first home. Goodbye, transient apartment living. Hello, backyards and swing sets, front porches swings and mortgage payments.

We're ready for it, I think. It's funny, I kind of thought as the day drew nearer I would feel like we were going home. I don't feel that way, though. I suppose that makes sense, if you think about it.

Thanks, Doug Mauss, for being my home.

Deaf...

I have never seen anything as moving as this. This little boy was born deaf. Thanks to cochlear implants, he is now able to hear. This is the video of him hearing his mother's voice for the first time.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZDD7Ohs5tAk&feature=player_embedded