the emmys

I didn't anticipate writing anything about the emmys this year, because I usually try to save my sartorial wit exclusively for awards season (and snarky comments on the street). But the people have asked, (well, one person) and I have answered! So, one person who reads this post, I hope you enjoy -- and now all the rest of you know how little prodding it takes for me to make fun of the carefully culled wardrobe displays of celebrities.

One of my favorite moments of the night was when the best actress in a comedy nominees were announced and they, one-by-one, walked up on the stage in the style of Miss America contestants -- holding hands, wiping away tears, grinning broadly. Seeing these six incredibly talented, funny, and powerful women on stage was such a strangely touching moment for me, and the way that they surrounded Melissa McCarthy once her name was announced, looks of genuine happiness on each face, topped it off so well. Later in the show, McCarthy and Amy Poehler were presenting the award for best actor in some kind of TV show, they did this great bit about how men in Hollywood were finally getting their moment, moving away from being 'pretty pretty things to look at' and getting roles of substance and character. Loved it.

The Emmys are, in some ways, are actually more fun than a number of the other awards shows. They don't take themselves as seriously, which can be refreshing. Or it can fall flat and feel gimmicky (case in point: the show choir composed of, among others, wilmer valderrama and robin from 'how i met your mother.' I mean, why?!) and confusingly self-referential (the lonely island skit with gyrating wave dancers, michael bolton dressed as jack sparrow, and akon. What does that have to do with television?). But, they laugh at themselves, and I can respect that.

Clearly, though, the most important part of the entire evening is the fashion. And this particular show was nothing more or less than 'meh.' Some cute dresses, some weird ones, and one very handsome Coach Eric Taylor accepting an Emmy in a nice tux and adorably rumpled hair. I will stick to two outfits this time around, although many more deserve a mention, like Julianna Margulies's upside-down-lampshade-as-bustier, Lea Michele's trying so hard to be Somebody that I feel embarrassed for her, Katie Holmes's blue sad sack, or the middle daughter from Modern Family displaying major cleavage at the same time that she is wearing braces. But tonight, we look at two women who are polar opposites--physically, personally, sartorially.

First, let us look at Gwyneth Paltrow, she of the Goop and backyard pizza oven: One word comes to mind, as is so often the case with the lithe blonde actress:
UGH.
I loved the movie Sliding Doors. I liked her in Emma. But somewhere along the way, our dear Gwyneth became the paragon for virtuous and responsible living. started dispensing lifestyle advice, became best friends with Beyonce (I'm sorry B, you can do better), and became completely ubiquitous in kind of obnoxious ways. I know some people love her and think she can do no wrong; if that is you, feel very free to skip over this part. Because . . . this OUTFIT! If you can even call it that. I really feel like she is trying to send a message with it: "I have flat abs and pretty blond hair that I casually push aside once every three minutes and I know that crop tops were hot on the runway during fashion week and I want you to know that I know that" and on and on and on. "I only eat macrobiotic things and I make cheese out of nuts and looking at meat makes me want to vomit but, you know, it's okay for you because you are not Gwyneth Paltrow and your body is not a temple to the glories of eight glasses of water a day and a diet of homegrown kale."


Moving on . . .

There were a number of ladies in red last night, but none quite so lovely as the inimitable Ms. Winslet. I got to watch the program with one of my best friends, and she and I couldn't stop gushing over how much we adore Kate W, how fantastic a person she seems, how wonderful it is that she, a big time movie star with an Oscar, is not above getting incredibly. jump-around, hug-everyone-else excited that she has won an Emmy! We also marveled at her ability to wear a dress that certainly put her ample bosom on display but somehow still seemed demure and old-fashioned. 


That's all I've got. I need to rest up for February 27, 2012. The world won't have ended by then, right?

death

It happened last night - one of too many text messages, telling me that my friend's sister had just passed away. I've never met her, know only pieces of her story, but felt deeply the heaviness and pain of deep loss, untimely loss, the kind of end of life that seems unfair and truncating and inexplicable. Dying is the end of all of us - it is what we know and what we hate to know, what we are fixed on a course toward and what we avoid with all of our effort. In short order, all of us who inhabit the earth now will be gone, and there will be new people to take our place, much like what you realize has happened five years after college when faces you don't recognize are living in your room, learning in your classes, driving on your roads. Things, including life, end. And I don't say this to be morbid, but to remember and live in the truth of life, which is that it ends. And living in light of this truth encourages me to live the kind of life that I really want, or want to want - the kind of life that is deeply invested in others and that matters in the eyes of God. My first encounter with death was when I was four years old. My grandfather died of pancreatic cancer, and although I don't remember being particularly sad or aware of what was going on at the time, I do remember feeling resentful at not being allowed to go to the funeral. I also remember my great aunt mistaking a strip of butter for string cheese at the wake; although getting to know her more later in life I wouldn't be shocked to know in hindsight that she was actually pleasantly surprised to be eating butter. She is gone now, too. In a chapel talk at Westmont this week (which I've only heard about from my dad, but am anxious to watch), Dallas Willard talked about the saved life. There are a bunch of questions that Dallas poses in his book Knowing Christ Today, but one of the most important in defining a worldview is 'What is the good life?' The saved life, as we might call it. What does it mean that Jesus has saved us? It is not, Dallas would argue, primarily about being saved from the torments of hell or the wicked ways of this world, as some might suggest. The saved life consists in deliverance. Deliverance to God, to a new life with God, to a life in which we love each moment because each moment is a moment where we might meet God. The world would distract us, which is the subtle temptation that Christians so often give into. A nicer car, a better image, a bigger wardrobe or home or bank account. Feeling 'happy,' arranging your life's circumstances so that you are 'happy' all the time and changing the circumstances when you are 'unhappy.' This is a worldview that we all buy into at some time or another in our lives, and it keeps us from living the kind of life that honors God and the kind of life that keeps death in mind. We are comforted into ignorance of our mortality. A year ago today, my dog died. Our family dog, Winston had been our pet for eleven years, outlasting by far all the other parakeets, rabbits, cats, and various other livestock that entered our home. He was a yorkshire terrier, gray and brown, with the most curmudgeonly personality imaginable. And we loved him. He had big, button eyes and horrible teeth and would perch himself on the corner of our couch and bark at anything that passed outside. My mom got him for us while my dad had driven to Missouri to pick us up from camp; we got home and ran with delight toward this ball of fur outside. "When did we decide to get a dog?" my dad asked my mom, who had brought the pup home unbeknownst to him. "I don't know when, but we must have! Why else would it be here?" And here he was, for eleven years, with us. And now he is gone. There is a new dog, a yellow lab, and my mom is very excited to have him. But for me, there will always be Winston. Life is not meant to be lived in ignorance of death. My time with my husband, my sister, my good friends is more rich and is better spent for knowing that we will not have this forever. That we will die, and that our life in light of that matters deeply to God - this is no small thing. And it does not make parting with loved ones easier, or less complicated. It is not an ignorance or denial of sadness and grief and anger. There is room for all of it. When I was a sophomore in college, I got a phone call late one evening from friends back in Chicago. One of our good friends had gone missing and, over the next few days, we found out that she had taken her life. None of us knew what to do with this; we still don't. It has shaken our faith, strengthened our faith, terrified us, made us angry and confused and closer. I flew back for her funeral, and on the program were a few words about her life and what I know now are lyrics to a song that perfectly captured the very bitter moment for us, and the sweetness for those who are with God: Imagine stepping on shore and finding it heaven Touching a hand and finding it God's Breathing new air, and finding it celestial Waking up in Glory, and finding it Home

in your corner

"all the circumstances of life, how anything turns out, whatever work you do or don't do, whatever jobs you do or don't get or take, matter not at all compared to the person you become. no one can block that.
and I admire how you work and strive and persevere.

I am on your side and in your corner."

these words from my an email from dad have been sitting deep in my soul the last couple of days. i hope that they are helpful to some of you, too. because this is the truth: who we are matters far more than any circumstance of our lives. but we all need someone in our corner, someone to speak those words to us, when we cannot speak them to ourselves. let this sink into you today.

File under: Oh, my.

These are two of my favorite days of the year, the Thursday and Friday of the Leadership Summit. And as much as I will always love Willow as the church where I grew up, this time is about so much more than Willow. It is about churches and Christians and leaders coming together to get a fire under their collective ass. It is about reminding all of us who love the church just what we can do when we recognize the reality that we are part of  --  the reality of the power of God in the world, the joy that unleashes in us, and how that intersects with our unique gifts and callings and talents.

So this year, the day before the Summit launched, I found out that Howard Schultz, the CEO of Starbucks, had decided not to show up to speak at the Summit. A group of people signed a petition calling for Schultz to break his contract with the Summit, or else the signers would boycott Starbucks. After what sounds like some thought and conversation on Schultz's part, he decided not to come to the Summit. (Some other blogs and websites have said that Schultz 'caved' or 'capitulated' to the pressure. And maybe he did -- but he made a business decision, and thinly-veiled insults aren't going to get this conversation anywhere.) Willow, in the meantime, has gotten Patrick Lencioni (a fantastic author and leadership consultant) to come in his place.

Bummer that Schultz can't make it, but this sounds like a good solution for everyone, right?

Apparently not.

Things have quickly gotten ugly on both sides. On one hand, there are Christians suggesting that Willow Creek should never have gotten mixed up in learning about church practices from the business world, and that this is some kind of just dessert (Never mind that this has never happened before and is unlikely to happen again). Christianity Today wrote a thoughtful, pretty neutral piece (read it here) and it took hardly any time at all for Christians to do what we are so good at doing -- spouting mean-spirited sentiments about the gay community in the comments section, and suggesting that Christians ought to boycott Starbucks now.

People who signed the petition on change.org, however, have made their share of cruel comments as well, and seemingly without doing their research. Willow Creek is not an anti-gay church. I can understand how gay people might feel not fully accepted there, both given the record of Christianity in relationships with the LGBT community and the fact that most people at Willow would probably believe some form of the idea that the Biblical sexual ethic looks specific to a man and a woman in the confines of marriage. But, it is a place full of good people who want to listen and understand, and the unmitigated hatred and condescension from the commenters on change.org only serve to push people farther away from true understanding. I don't think that's what much of the gay community wants.

But it's rarely the moderate, thoughtful commenters who get attention online. Or elsewhere. Which is why I really appreciate what Bill Hybels said today (watch it here) at the Summit. And why I really hope that we, as Christians gathered together in the name of a good and loving God, can take responsibility for our actions, our complicity in judging and mistreating and distancing.

Because the point is this: We don't get infinite chances to love each other. We get this chance, and this life, and for those of us who claim to represent God, this means everything. It means everything to the God who has given us this life, and it ought to mean everything to us. Let's make it count.

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A spirit of love, power, self-discipline

I woke up in the middle of the night to go pee. It's not a terribly uncommon occurrence, but for me, it can often bring up the kind of anxious thoughts and feelings that seem to strike particularly deep long after the sun has gone down.

It wasn't even like I had prayed or asked God for comfort -- the thought was simply there, the second I was roused from sleep in the middle of the night. "I have not given you a spirit of fear."

It wasn't even a complete verse. I know I should remember the rest of it, and vaguely knew that it was in one of the Timothys, but it took me getting into the office to pick up my Bible and read through the rest of it. For that hour last night, laying in bed, mind racing, that was what I had to hold onto: "I have not given you a spirit of fear."

Mired as I had been in anxiety, I kept wondering: Then what is the spirit you have given me? You say it isn't one of fear, but perhaps I just got a raw deal. Maybe I'm not quite good enough to have actually inherited this spirit. It's probably one of those things that really wonderful, mostly sinless people experience, but that will sort of haunt me for now because on my worst days I feel that I am composed of fear, and not much more.

It's funny what seems like it makes sense to us at two in the morning -- what feels real, what our minds believe, what we tell ourselves. And if it was just at two in the morning, it wouldn't matter a whole lot. But this hour was just a sort of continuation of the kind of thinking that I can build up over days and months and years. I deserve a spirit of fear, I'll tell myself, because I don't trust in God enough or pray enough or read the Bible enough.

But I kept coming back to those words at two o'clock this morning, and at two-thirty, and three, and on and on until I finally fell back asleep. And the more that I heard them, the more that I knew, and know, that they are true. I think that God gave me those words as I stumbled bleary-eyed to the bathroom so that I could know, deep down to the marrow of my being, that my spirit was not a spirit of fear at that moment, and would not be a spirit of fear when I woke, or when I went to work, or at any other moment as long as I should live with him.

Our spirits are not meant to be fearful, but so often we live out of fear. So often, we make decisions that are motivated by fear - fear of failure, of the future, of being uncomfortable, of not being perceived well - and not out of the fact that we are loved by the creator of the universe, a fact which should give us all the confidence we need when it comes to failure, the future, comfort, perception.

Today, I am going to give these words as much credence as any words I have ever believed:

"For this reason, I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that 

is within you through the laying on of my hands; 

for God did not give us a spirit of cowardice, 

but rather a spirit of power and of love and of self-discipline." 

2 Timothy 1:6-7

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Yesterday

Yesterday was one of my worst days with anxiety in a long time. Anxiety is a funny thing that way; it can seem completely banished for a long time and then rears up at unexpected moments. There were no big changes occurring, nothing strange happening, nothing, in short, that would seem to predicate an onset of dizzying anxiousness. But there it was, a familiar specter, squeezing my heart like a vise and setting my mind racing about everything and nothing at once.

When I'm feeling that anxious, it's as if everything that doesn't really matter, in the long run, is of the utmost importance all of a sudden, and the things that really do matter to me almost disappear. I grasp at straws for hours on end, convincing myself that control over my circumstances is what I'm really looking for.

I'm trying to give myself a break today, to rest in what is important and how I am known. It is harder work for me than almost anything else I do. But I know that God is in it. And my job is to be found by Him.

Find the Source of Your Loneliness

with thanks to Henri Nouwen . . .

"Whenever you feel lonely, you must try to find the source of this feeling. You are inclined either to run away from your loneliness or to dwell in it. When you run away from it, your loneliness does not really diminish; you simply force it out of your mind temporarily. When you start dwelling in it, your feelings only become stronger, and you slip into depression.

The spiritual task is not to escape your lonelieness, not to let yourself drown in it, but to find its source This is not so easy to do, but when you can somehow identify the place from which these feelings emerge, they will lose some of their power over you.

This identification is not an intellectual task; 

it is a task of the heart. 

With your heart you must search for that place without fear.

This is an important seach because it leads you to discern something good about yourself. The pain of your loneliness may be rooted in your deepest vocation.

You might find that your loneliness is 

linked to your call to live completely for God. 

Thus your loneliness may be revealed to you as the other side of your unique gift. Once you can experience in your innermost being the truth of this, you may find your loneliness not only tolerable but even fruitful. What seemed primarily painful may then become a feeling that, thought painful, opens for you the way to an even deeper knowledge of God's love."

(From The Inner Voice of Love, emphasis added)