forgiveness

Please note that I don't think I'm saying anything new here. But rather I'd just like to share with you how strongly I recently felt the truth of something I already knew.

I finished reading "It Came From Within" By Andy Stanley, and although it could probably have been effectively summarized in 20 pages it was still a good book. One of the things it talked about doing was intentionally forgiving others through a specific exercise.

Anger basically says "you owe me." We don't normally think of it that way because what is owed to us is usually something ethereal or intangible. "You owe me time, respect, love, appreciation, your consideration, friendship, etc..." Often times we are owed things that cannot be paid back, but it doesn't change the concept. If you disagree with my oversimplification of anger I will cite Dr. Danger who was known to say "Anger is a sign of a blocked goal."* Think about this long enough you realize that it is basically true. If you still disagree you can call me and we can discuss it, or you can simply ask me next time you see me because the only people who read this blog are my family and Cortney. But I digress

Anger means "You owe me." To forgive means, "I acknowledge and cancel the debt."

The exercise I read about in the book involves detailing the things owed to you by another person. The point of this isn't to dwell on these things and fuel your anger, but rather to make sure that you have an accurate picture of what you're doing, and making sure that you haven't left anything out. Then you consciously tell God that you are canceling the debt and forgiving that person totally for what they owe you. Once you've done that, that person does NOT owe you anymore.

It's a powerfully liberating thing. You've probably heard that lending money can put strain on a relationship. Sin and anger is the same way. There is an unpleasant bond between two people as long as one person owes the other person. But to forgive that debt is to put people back in right standing with each other.

As I did this I became overwhelmed with the idea that God has a laundry list about me several miles long. He could have a detailed account that include my every thought and waking breath as owed to him. I owe him so much above and beyond what I could ever pay. And in the same way he has cancelled my debt, being fully aware of what it was.

Very liberating indeed. Sometimes it's hard to be forgiven because we would rather work to "fix" or "make right," to pay back what we owe. But when we've been forgiven that becomes unnecessary. It's a but embarrassing, a bit humiliating to have other people assume the responsibilities for our actions and cancel debts we wish to pay. But some debts cannot be repaid, and that's why we have forgiveness. A powerfully liberating thing. I'm very excited to be a forgiven man right now.

My two thoughts for the day

1) Practice forgiveness today
2) Appreciate the forgiveness you have received.


*I also cite 4 years as a psychology major. I realize that does NOT qualify me to be a councilor but lets assume that $100,000 of education left me with SOMETHING.

Summer reading plans

Today marks the first full day of Summer for Mr. Steven M. Danger C. Conn and I'm very excited about it! I'm also excited about living with one of my best friends (or besties, as we like to say when we are being particularly annoying).

Andrew Lehr and I will be taking up residence at the party mansion at 5733 Co Rd 203Millersburg OH, and depending on whether or not we pay the electric bill for the month of August we are either going to party like it's 1899 or 1999.

The number one item on our agenda besides p0woning n00bs* is reading a ridiculous amount of nerdy books. That being said, I set a goal at the beginning of the year to read twenty book in 2009. We are now almost half way through the year and I have read fifteen. Using all the math I learned as a psychology major at Taylor that means that I'm between 65%-99.4% done with my goal.**

As you see my list of "Books of 2009" growing on the side of my blog, you will say to yourself, "wow, this kid doesn't have any friends. He just sits around in his house all day reading and writing blog posts about it. But then, who am I to judge? Because as pathetic as that is...I'm actually READING that blog.

Food for thought.


*That just happened
**The real number is 75%. I knew you knew that, but I wanted you to know that I knew it too.

Setting the Record Staight

There has been some confusion lately about professional athletes, especially regarding LeBron James. So please let me clear the air for all of you fans.


Being from Ohio means that you've already won the championship in one category: namely, the "Being from Ohio" category. Thusly, even when you lose, you win. And even when Orlando wins, they lose (because they are from Florida). But instead of lose-winning I would rather win-win. We deserve it because we are from Ohio.

The other thing that people don't understand is that some people think they can critique of criticize LeBron James like he needs their coaching. "Don't miss the free throws LeBron!" They say.

Well you know what? LeBron has done nothing other than SERVE YOU with his almighty sweetness since he graciously VOLUNTEERED to grace the NBA with his presence. He even allows NINE other guys to play at the same time as him! Can you imagine the humility that takes? And he allows you to watch him for FREE and some of you have the audacity to complain. Do you sit back on your couch (you non contributing zero) and tell me how a surgeon should operate on you or how a pilot should fly your plane? No you do NOT. So why do you think you have the RIGHT to put your two cents in on the greatest thing to happen to America since we invented freedom!?*

Fortunately for ALL of us Mike Brown decided to lose a game last night so we would all be able to see MORE of the Cavaliers instead of winning in a quick 4 and out. What a guy. Next time the game is on, just watch and nod appreciatively and try not to embarrass yourself.

*The Buckeyes pre-dated freedom. Many historians believe that the tax levied on watching the Buckeyes from home was one of the major catalysts for the American revolution. Wolverine fans (then called tea bags) were drowned in Lake Superior (Then called Lake Ohio) to the delight of the colonists. This incident was later confused with a fancy shmancy tea party in Boston to which the Buckeyes were not invited. The forward thinking colonists of this time were hailed as visionaries by gaining the right to watch the Buckeyes more than a hundred years before the invention of the Television.

The couch of despair

Ladies and gentlemen, if you did not yet know it, Phil Byers is a stud and the third floor of English is far away from the parking lot.

Let me enlighten you as to how I know these things for sure.

Background

Once long ago fate smiled upon Brent Fannin and provided for him a free couch on the roadside by Fairlane apartments. Unfortunately for Brent, Steve frowned upon him and took the couch for himself.*

But because Steve is very whipped he gave the couch to his beautiful girlfriend Cortney who wanted it in her dorm room. Steve Believed that it was impossible to move such a large couch through the twisted doorways of English and into her little room, but fate smiled upon him too, and the couch was thusly delivered.


In the middle ages castles were built for defense. Staircases spirals to the right so right handed swordsmen could swing their weapons while climbing the stairs. Corridors were narrow to force attackers to pass through one at a time. Rooms and walls were often positioned at odd angles so an attacking army wouldn't have enough space to swing a battering ram. I am convinced that the architect who built English Hall was convinced its residence would be under assault. Rest assured women of Mary Tower English, your fortress can withstand any attack.

The Present Day

I am whipped and Phil has the heart of a servant so we went up to Cortney's third floor dorm room in order to extract this couch like a bowling ball through a Chinese finger trap. I assured Phil that if we could get it in, we could also get it out. But 20 minutes, 5 stifled curses, and about $60 worth of fines** later Phil and I were standing on opposite sides of an inverted devil couch that was one third in Cortney's room, one third in the hallway, and one third in another room.

As I tried to fold the couch in half like a soft taco Mr. Byers observed that sheer force might not avail us as well as some problem solving skills. Now I can do the Rubik's cube, so I thought this was playing to my advantage, but I had underestimated the couch.***

(Diagram of our route through English to scale: Click to Enlarge)


Fast Forward an hour and Phil had sweet talked every girl on 3rd South English into wanting to marry him, but the couch was still wedged between a rock and a hard place--and two more rocks--and a vice--and a whole family of little hard places that grew up together in Italy but decided to move to America last winter just to screw me.



Then, in a move of utter despair I hurled my body forcefully at the couch with little intent besides killing myself when the impossible happened. The impossibly huge couch passed through the impossibly small opening and we were free. Now pardon the imagery but if you've ever given birth you might have an idea what I felt like at that moment.

Long story short...we got it out. And now I owe Phil a life debt.

So Cort, now you have proof that I love you, but we are going to have to name our first kid Phil Byers Conn.

*The details of this transaction make it seem a little less shady but if Brent ever complains about me having stolen his couch...he's not exactly lying.

**we scraped the floor, two door jams, and three doors. Why they had English built so that one piece of furniture could touch three doors at once...I don't know.

***I can do the Rubik's cube in 3 minutes. It took us 90 minutes to move the couch.

The coming days

Hey jokers and jokestreses

I'm sorry I've been so absent from blog land lately. Ben Taylor actually had the audacity to comment on it to my FACE.

Well whatever. I'm turning in my thesis proposal tomorrow and really just kinda checking out after that. So I expect the blog posts will start to come more quickly as I have more time to waste on the Internet.

Things you can look forward to in the future

My love for the word "nope"
The story of Phil Byers and the immovable object
Why it is impossible to scratch a diamond ring with a napkin holder
more thoughts on walls
and why I think it's OK to be mediocre

have a wonderful day everyone, and wish me luck proposing!*

*Proposing my THESIS...don't get cocky Cortney

Caveat

Ok so the post underneath this one is the longest post in the world.

My bad. I would have published it somewhere other than my blog if I had anyother place to do that kind of thing.

Anyway, I wrote a story. There you have it. Keep in mind as you read it, it's not intended to be entirely alagorical, so don't pick it apart.

Also, I wrote it on Word. And the formatting was a lot better than when I copy pasted it onto the blog. Perhaps I'll go back and fix it another time. But right now I've got to run. Hope you enjoy what I've been working on for he last few days.

Steve

Stones

I trudge along, one foot after another. Left, right, left, right. The sweat stung my eyes but I couldn’t wipe it away. My hands were occupied balancing the burden on my back. Left, right, left right. I have somewhere to get to, and I don’t dare stop. Left, right, left, right. I didn’t start out with so many stones, I added them as I went. Sometimes as I was walking I would see a stone on the ground and think I might need it. Sometimes I went looking for stones because I was afraid I was missing one. Maybe I didn’t have all the right shapes or all the right colors. Some stones I walked right by. But others caused me to stop, stoop over, pick them up with hands raw and cramped, and add them to the sack I carried on my back. Each stone made the sack a little heavier, and caused me to walk a little more hunched over, a little closer to the ground. Left, right, left, right.
Sometimes I look up to see where I’m going. I have somewhere to get to, and I don’t dare stop. But it never seems any closer. Left, right, left, right. When I do look up I see others walkers trudging along too—the same as me. Left, right, left, right. Some of them walk in pairs, some walk alone. Some have lots of stones. Some hardly have any at all. I feel sorry for them. They don’t know they are doing it wrong. You’ll never make it to where you’re going without the right stones. I put my head back down and keep walking. Left, right, left, right. Looking at others makes me nervous sometimes. It makes me wish sometimes that I could drop some stones and walk a little straighter, but I know I don’t dare. More often it makes me scared because I see the stones others are carrying, and I realize I don’t have enough. Some people have more than me…a lot more. Some of them have stones in colors and sizes I don’t have. It makes me wonder if I have enough. Do they feel sorry for me? Will I have the right stones when I get there? Left, right, left, right.
A pair of feet…I stop. I see a man’s feet in the sand right in front of me. I’ve seen this before, but these feet were different. They weren’t moving…and they were pointing the wrong direction. The were pointing at me.
Straining, I crane my neck and look up as far as I can. I don’t dare stand up straight because I might drop my sack, and I don’t think I’d be able to pick it up again if I did. I can just barely see high enough to see the man’s face. He looks concerned.
“Where are you going?” asks the man
“That way” I say, nudging my head in the direction I’ve been walking. I think it’s a stupid question. We’re all walking the same direction, and there’s nowhere else to go. But the man listens intently as if this was the first time he’s heard this. There was something decidedly strange about this man.
“That bag looks pretty heavy,” he says. “What’s so important that you would lug it across this whole desert?”
I’m starting to get annoyed. I think he’s making fun of me. We’ll see whose laughing when we get to where I’m going…if he ever gets there.
I Put my heard down again and brush by him. Left, right, le…
“Seriously, what’s in the bag?”
I see the feet again…he’s still in front of me. I’m not quite sure how that happened. I’m beginning to think the heat might have finally got to me. But I answer him.
“They’re my stones. I need them for where I’m going.”
“I see.” said the man. “Do you want any help carrying them?”
Now my head snaps up. “What did you say?”
“The stones” he replied, apparently not catching my mood, “do you want me to help you carry them?”
I took a step back. The first step back I ever remember taking. (I wasn’t about to forgive him for that.)
“Look here,” I snarled, “I’ve worked too hard and come too far to give up what I have to the likes of you! Why don’t you worry about your own stones and leave me alone!”
The man started laughing. Laughing! He smiled and said “Why don’t I? Because I don’t have any stones!”
I almost took another step back. He was right. I realized for the first time what was so weird about this guy, what really didn’t sit right. He wasn’t carrying a single stone.
“Where’s your sack? Where are all your stones? Do you even know where you’re going? What will you do when you get there?” I was so startled, and not just a little afraid, that I almost stood all the way up for the first time in years. The bag I carried tugged me back and back until I quickly resumed my hunched posture and settled back down again. I adjusted my grip on the sack and took a deep breath as I waited for his response.
“Oh there,” he said with another laugh. “Oh I’m not worried about that. I LIVE there and it turns out you don’t really need any stones. I’ve got enough stones for everyone there…if you’re in to that kind of thing. As a matter of fact you might as well just set those stones down. I mean stones are great and all but I’m more worried about your back at this point.”
Now I’m really scared. I have no idea who this guy is or what he wants but this can’t be good. He could ruin everything. He wants my stones, but he can’t have them. I tighten my grip on my sack again, and then I make my move.

I swung my bag of stones directly at his head.

(If anyone is still reading with me at this point I’ll ask you to stop for a moment. Maybe a few seconds, maybe a day. I stopped here. This isn’t quite the story I expected to write. At this point in the story I think the reader might be able to make better meaning out of it than I can. What are the stones to you, and would you ever use them as a weapon? I feel compelled to finish writing the story, and I will. But once you’ve read to the end it’s a cliché, it’s the same old story. The story of Christ always ends the same way, and we always focus on the ending. That’s appropriate of course, but the problem with it is that we never appreciate that story the first time we hear it, and we are never surprised by the time we understand it. Overwhelmed sometimes yes, thankful, obviously, but never surprised. But now it’s not quite the same because we haven’t reached the happy ending. Maybe this should be the ending, it is for so many people.

So I hope you leave it here for a while, and I hope you think about. Maybe not for long. I hope you think about your own story. Because once you read my ending the story is full of my meaning, and I’ll never believe that I can speak into your life as well as you can.

I would love it if some of you wrote your own endings. But of course you don’t have to. Not all of you are as obsessed with your own words as I am.  And in case any of you were concerned, the second part is a lot shorter than the first part. So this is where it picks up again if you’ve taken some time off. And if you’ve just ignored my recommendations…well that’s ok too.

The man lay there on the ground
I stood still

He might be dead…he might not be. All I know is that he really scared me and I didn’t want to be around him if he woke up. But then again…What if what he said was true. How could I know? Something in me really liked what I heard in his voice when he talked about his “home.” But I don’t really know if I can believe it. Maybe I should wait to see if he wakes up. Maybe if I just set my sack down for a minute and sat next to him, he would come around again and tell me more. Maybe he really could help me carry my stones. Or maybe he would convince me to leave them behind all together.

That thought jarred me back into reality. I would never do that, I could never do that. It was insane. But I hadn’t given up on this man completely yet. I had never met anyone like him ever before. So I did the only thing I could do. I picked him up and put him on my back and began walking again. Left, right, left, right.
I realized quickly that something was wrong. Left, right, left, right. The man was way too heavy. He was heavier than all my stones.
“Impossible!” I thought. He wasn’t even half the size of the bag I was carrying. And even if he was made out of solid stone himself he couldn’t possibly weigh this much. Left, right…left…right.
This was terrible. I was more scared now than I had been any time since meeting the man. I had to get rid of this guy now and leave him far, far, behind.

I stopped, gripped the bag of stones firmly and leaned a little to the left so the man would fall off. I listened for the sound of his body hitting the ground and the lightening of the terrible load that would indicate I had succeeded.

Nothing happened. I leaned a little further. Nothing. I leaned to the right instead. Still nothing. At this point I was near panic. I tried to shake him off, but he wouldn’t budge. I spun in circles and hopped from foot to foot. I couldn’t dislodge this wretched man! I began to run. I sprinted in the direction I had been going as fast and as hard as possible. Maybe I could leave the man behind. Maybe if I got to where I was going before he woke up everything would be ok. Maybe if I found someone else they would help me get rid of the guy.
My breath came in gasps, the sweat was really pouring off of me now, and my knees felt like they were filled with shattered glass. Leftrightleftrightleftrightleftright I needed help, I needed out, I needed this cursed weight off my back.
And then I fell.
I fell and I couldn’t get up. I was done.
There was no pain…in fact I couldn’t feel my legs, but I knew what had happened. I had broken my back. The weight of the man was too much, and now I was finished. I would never get to where I was going now, and I would never have enough stones. I had failed.
I had failed.
I had failed
I had failed

And I began to cry.
And as the tears leaked down my face and into the dry sand I felt a loosening of something inside. Anxiety and fear leaked out of me as well—evaporating in the hot sun as soon as they escaped my body. I had failed my task. Unequivocally and categorically failed to the point that I could never try again. I could stop. I could finally stop and lay down without any stones. The tears came harder now. They were tears of relief.

“Finally decided to put the stones down I see.”
I couldn’t turn my head far enough around to see who it was, but I knew it was the man talking. I wasn’t even surprised at this point. What else could happen? I answered him,
“Well I didn’t really have much of a choice.” The man chuckled a little and I remembered the amused look on his face from before. I assumed he was wearing it again now.
“No, you still have a choice” he said. “I just broke your back, but I could never make you let go. That was your decision.” I wasn’t really sure if this was exactly true or not, but I was too tired to argue.
“Now,” he said “how about getting up so we can go home?”
“I can’t walk anymore. I’ve broken my back. Besides, I’ve walked enough. I’m staying put right here from now on” Then I felt hands grab me around the waist. It didn’t hurt at all, even though I knew it should have. I was turning as he lifted me and then I was looking at the ground again as I was draped over his shoulder.
“Oh you’ll learn to walk again” he said. “But we’re not going to bother with the stones anymore, I think you’ll just walk with me and keep me company. But until that time comes I’ll just carry you.”
And so we set out again—me and the man. Him talking and singing all the while like he didn’t have a care in the world, and me draped over his back like a bag of stones, still crying my tears. Left, right, left, right.

Unbuilidng the walls

So often we hear Christians talking about the walls they have built up in their hearts. Something that keeps them from God, or from each other, or from some other noteworthy goal. The wall goes unseen for a long time, effectively sealing off parts of a persons life until *gasp* Jesus comes along and breaks down the walls like a wrecking ball and everyone is doing just fine and peachy again. I mean, they have to cry first and everything, but by and large things are on the right track.

Now if this has happened to you don't think I'm making fun of you, I'm not. I'm only trying to draw attention to how easy we think the process can be sometimes. When God is involved change happens quickly and without any effort on our part....right?

I think in our efforts to give God the credit for things that we couldn't or wouldn't have done on our own (and rightly so) we* sometimes shift the responsibility to the Holy Spirit to change us like a miracle. "Well I prayed that God would change my heart so...I guess my part is done." Even though we never say that, how often do we act like we think it's true?

The problem with Jesus coming in like a wrecking ball and knocking down all our walls at once is that it usually involves a major crisis. Which is fine. Pain is God's megaphone. But sometimes (preferably most of the time) our life is not in a state of crisis. So how do the walls come down?

They come down through an intentional and determined effort to unbuild them brick by brick. In my own life I have identified several beliefs and patterns of thought that have served me to a point but ultimately alienate me from the people I love most. The problem is that I can't tear the walls down instantly because so much truth and healthy thought is mixed in with the lies and with the unhealthy thoughts. People probably don't have walls for absolutely no reason. In fact, on an individual basis there is probably nothing wrong with most of he bricks in the wall, they are just stacked together in the wrong places.And so instead of asking God to bust down my walls today before lunchtime I'm going to ask him to help me identify the misapplication of all my erroneously laid bricks. Because I think I'm going to have to start unbuilding a wall piece by piece and putting those bricks where they belong. As I am doing this I will be listening to "The Wall" by Pink Floyd.

*Did I say "we" I probably should have said "I" but it sounds less incriminating this way.