Why the Barry Bonds Controversy Shouldn't Matter

Why the Barry Bonds Controversy Shouldn't Matter

The Barry Bonds discussion shouldn't even be happening. We shouldn't even really be having this talk at all. But millions across America are. And that's too bad.
From the major inquires of Senate Hearings to Little League Baseball's digout discussions, the question of steriods in baseball seems to plague us all. And it really shouldn't matter. But it does. And that's too bad.
You see, baseball doesn't really matter. Now, I like to watch baseball. I even like to play it. But it doesn't matter. If Major League Baseball ceased to exist tomorrow, it wouldn't be the end of the world. Few lives would be changed for the worse in the really important areas.
If, however, school teachers or social workers or nurses failed to go to work tomorrow, millions of people would have their worlds turned upside down. Maybe not on the first day or the second, but in the long term it would matter.
But we've put our priorities all out of whack. Instead of lauding the civil servants with the praise they deserve, we've instead put the emphasis on an athlete's ability to be bigger, faster, and stronger for a brief moment in time. That puts pressure on the players and then they are pushed to find a new edge and led to the temptation to cheat. And that's how we got in this mess in the first place.
I am not against athletics. They certainly have their place. The problem is we've put them in the wrong place--ahead of what really matters. And that's too bad.

The wisdom of the prudent is to give thought to their ways,
but the folly of fools is deception.
Proverbs 14:8

The Language of Language

The Language of Language

Last night a respected friend told me I should give more consideration to
the written medium as a way to communicate my thoughts, lessons, and ideas. I've tried journaling before and haven't been very good at writing with regularity. But he communicated an idea that I hadn't considered before. To paraphrase, he said, "When you speak, people hear you in your language; when you write, people hear you in their own language."

I've though a lot about that since last night. I see his point. If I am
communicating verbally before a group, I have to be able to speak in such a
way that relates to them. I have to be relevant and appropriate. I wouldn't
discuss justification and entire sanctification with a group of elementary
students. Nor would I want to spend a great deal time teaching like a
pre-school cartoon to a group of theologians. Therefore I must make my
language one that to which they can relate. The same is true of the written
word, up to a point. The written word allows me to bypass that which
doesn't apply or slow down and repeat the things I want to soak and absorb
some more.

My intonations, dialect, diction, speed and a host of other nonverbal
communication aspects influence the spoken word. The way I dress, the way my hair looks, the idiosyncrasies all play into my effectiveness as a verbal communicator. But not so with the written word. People can change the font or size or color. They can read my words at a desk, on the couch, no the bed or wherever. They take me on their own terms, not one mine.

But here's the struggle for an insecure communicator: the gift of feedback.
As a speaker, I know immediately how my audience is responding. I know if I have their attention or if they have switched to another mental channel.
When I was on the stage, the part of the night I loved the most was the
chatter of the audience before the performance. No matter the group or
theater or performance, there is something very distinctive about that din
of peoples' conversation before the show. As I stood backstage, that sound
was electricity through my veins. It enabled me to give my all to the
performance.

My computer makes no such encouragements. It doesn't tell me to go on, do more, say more. It doesn't tell me when I'm funny or thoughtful or deep.
So as an amateur blogger, I need to find a way to receive that feedback that
is vital to keep me going. Does a blog have its place Absolutely. Does
it allow communication in a relevant and appropriate way Absolutely. Is
there an audience who'll read, respond, and be changed by what I have to
say Who knows. But as I stand at the backstage of my computer, ready to
go on, I listen for the clamor of people who'll take the time to hear in
their own language a little from these feeble fingers.

Much to be said

There is much to be said in the next few weeks. I have an opportunity to preach this week, I'm going to some banquets and then I'm speaking at the baccalaureate next week. That same weekend I'm participating in a wedding (my first one). Then I am preaching again the next week. In the middle is the end of the year celebration and our launch into summer. Whoa.
I guess as I look at all of these things, I ask myself, who am I to do this? I am not the one who is worthy to these kinds of things. Who I am to be called to bring an important message to people? The only thing I can think is that this must be grace in practice. God looks past who I was and even who I am and says, let me do the work, you just be available. May I obey.