From Blue Like Jazz (p. 237):

I know our culture will sometimes understand a love for Jesus as weakness. There is this lie floating around that says I am supposed to be able to do life alone, without any help, without stopping to worship something bigger than myself. But I actually believe there IS something bigger than me, and I need for there to be something bigger than me. I need someone to put awe inside me; I need to come second to someone who has everything figured out.

Trusting in Jesus is weak? I counter that the thing that takes the most strength in this life is selflessness. What is the fruit of the spirit?
Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, self-control.

The strength the keep loving when your love doesn't come Bam! right back at you when you desire it.
The strength to move PAST hurt and bitterness in this life and to still live joyfully.
To have the world collapse and not collapse with it but be at at peace, even when in prison, or in genuine despair.
To power to be kind when it gains you nothing immediate and may not even be deserved by the one receiving it.
The restraint to be gentle when barging through is easy.
All of these things flow not from within, but from the spirit of the living God!

This is real strength.
Where does my help come from?
Not from my own talents, skills, intellect, physical strength or money.
My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth.
Glory be to the Lord, the Creator, and to Jesus, his anointed one!



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From Blue Like Jazz (p.140)

Here's a tip I've never used: I understand you can learn a great deal about girldom by reading Pride and Prejudice, and I won a copy, but I have never read it. I tried. It was given to me by a girl with a little note inside that read: What is in this book is the heart of a woman. I am sure the heart of a woman is pure and lovely, but the first chapter of said heart is hopelessly boring. Nobody dies at all. I keep the book on my shelf because girls come into my room, sit on my couch, and eye the books on the adjacent shelf. You have a copy of Pride and Prejudice, the exclaim in a gentle sigh and smile. Yes, I say. Yes, I do.

Interestingly enough, I bring this up because my wife hates Jane Austen. She finds the lifestyle of the typical characters to be quite dull. I myself have yet to read any of her works, though I saw the recent Pride and Prejudice starring Keira Knightley in it. My guess is that it's difficult to relate to noble culture, my wife and I both growing up blue-collar. My friend Mark on the other hand, is quite a fan of Austen and actually met his wife through that mutual appreciation! What a striking contrast to our author in this case.

From Blue Like Jazz:

When you are a writer and a speaker, you aren't supposed to watch television. It's shallow. I feel guilty because for a long time I didn't allow myself a television, and I used to drop that fact in conversation to impress people. I thought it made me sound dignified. A couple of years ago, however, I visited a church in the suburbs, and there was this blowhard preacher talking about how television rots your brain. He said that when we are watching television our minds are working no harder than when we are sleeping. I thought that sounded heavenly. I bought one that afternoon. (p.15)

I think I'm beginning to warm up to this perspective on television. TV was not really permitted when I grew up. I got to occasionally snag an episode of Duck Tales and if I was allowed to stay up, Star Trek: TNG.  I used to love going to Grandma's house. It was there I discovered Law and Order reruns on A&E. In college I watched absolutely nothing.



My wife and I have always owned a TV, but the only channel we get is PBS. This past year though, we have started watching Survivor online. I had never seen it before then. I was surprised to find that I enjoy it a lot. It's especially nice being able to watch the episodes at any time with virtually no commercials on the CBS website. The current season is over, so now we have switched to it's summer replacement, Pirate Master. The idea is really fun, but it just doesn't work quite right. The cast has a high concentration of oddballs, the challenges are (so far) all the same, and there are no sea battles or sword play! There is however a real ship, sailing, treasure hunting, and rum. I want to see what happens, but unless it improves I doubt it will ever get past its maiden voyage.

From Blue Like Jazz:


What is this a description of? Auto-pilot. The bane of my existence, and a special gift to our gender. Powerful, it enables us to function without thinking. To handle repetition that would otherwise drive us insane. To continue to function in the midst of noise and chaos. We really can be robots! It's not bad. It's a glorious work of the creator! But it's another thing the deceiver aims to twist.



Nothing hurts my marriage more than this very thing. I think falling into auto-pilot in relation to our wives is a great snare for men. I believe Donald Miller also successfully points out that it's a trap in our relation to God. The gender of men in particular is really good at being religious. Once we get our auto-pilot setup, we can go on for years while putting all of our creative energy into something else. Woman are not as successful at just being religious. It forces them to continue to strive for a more intimate relationship with Jesus, and that is a very good thing.

Intellectual Christianity can be rich in truth, but it's easier for men to set it on auto-pilot. Mystical Christianity doesn't play so well with robots. It keeps you on your toes.

Allow me to exhort myself:

Men, let's shed the robot and engage God and our wives with all our mind, soul and strength!

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I sure have felt like this the past few days...

Donald Miller in Blue Like Jazz quotes a poem by C.S. Lewis:

All this is flashy rhetoric about loving you.
I never had a selfless thought since I was born.
I am mercenary and self-seeking through and through;
I want God, you, all friends, merely to serve my turn.

Peace, reassurance, pleasure, are the goals I seek,
I cannot crawl one inch outside my proper skin;
I talk of love - a scholor's parrot may talk Greek -
But, self-imprisoned, always end where I begin.

And then comments:

I sat there above the city wondering if I was like the parrot in Lewis's poem, swinging in my cage, reciting Homer, all the while having no idea what I was saying. I talk about love, forgiveness, social justice; I rage against American materialism in the name of altruism, but have I even controlled my own heart? The overwhelming majority of time I spend thinking about myself, pleasing myself, reassuring myself, and when I am done there is nothing to spare for the needy. Six billion people live in this world, and I can only muster thoughts for one. Me.