Learning the Hard Way

Sometimes, lessons you learn are obvious, timeless, and can be woven seamlessly into a brilliant allegorical narrative.

Other times, you just have to go over there by Qwerty and talk about what you learned today. Some lessons might not be very clear from just the story itself, so you have to spell it out. Which is what I'll be doing on Qwerty, the name I just gave the computer I'm working on.

Qwerty is not my computer. And this is not the blog post I intended to write.

The real blog post for today is sitting quietly on my hard drive, safe and sound . . . and out of reach. It was written several days ago and has been proofread twice, all set and ready to post.

Until a seven-year-old threw an exercise ball at my computer and cracked the display.

Just a typical day in my life with my host family here in Colorado. The poor kid ran away and hid from me the rest of the night. Which is a real shame, because he missed admiring the splintered cyan-yellow-and-magenta glory that is my computer screen.

You would think that there wouldn't be a lot to learn from this (except for the obvious "don't-make-kids-mad-by-doing-homework-on-your-computer-instead-of-playing-with-them"). But this one has more moral-of-the-story potential than a contrived sermon illustration or one of Aesop's fables.

The Five Hate Languages

Not going to lie, the first time I was asked which of the “Five Love Languages” I expressed the most, I immediately thought I should be choosing between Latin, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, or French.

Romance languages. Love languages. They’re similar, okay?

I soon found out that the actual love languages are Quality Time, Physical Touch, Words of Affirmation, Gifts, and Acts of Service. Then I was talked into taking an online quiz (with such subtle, soul-searching questions as, “Do you feel valued when people affirm you?” or “Do you enjoy receiving gifts?”).

Apparently I enjoy spending time with people and having them say nice things about me. Which I never could have figured out apart from this invaluable assessment.

All that to say, in my humble opinion, the Internet doesn’t need another Love Language quiz. So, I decided to put my own twist on this topic. I call it, “The Five Hate Languages,” and it will help you figure out how you (or a fictional character, if you’re a writer) react to people or situations that hurt you.

Creativity Margin

Busyness is a virtue.

You know why? Because, when I look back on my life, I don’t want to see wasted time.

I want to set goals, get involved, use my gifts, change the world, even. I never want to be bored, because that means I’m lazy. I’m not even sure how often I want to be silent and still, because what does that accomplish?

I stay busy because there’s so much to do. And if I don’t do it, who will?

Or maybe . . .

No.

That couldn’t be it.

But maybe it is for some people. Not me . . . right?

Except sometimes I wonder if maybe I stay busy because I’m afraid that when I look back on my life, I won’t have accomplished anything.

A Different Kind of Average

Would you want to read a story about any of the following people?

A jealous leader with control issues, a clumsy twenty-something, a sickeningly-perfect employee, an overprotective single parent, a husband trying to relive the glory days, an arrogant jerk without any friends, a rat, a lonely guy who does the same job every day, a cranky old man, and a rebellious teenager.

These sound like tired old clichés . . . until you realize that they’re the protagonists of ten different Pixar movies (Woody, Flick, Sulley, Marlin, Mr. Incredible, Lightning McQueen, Remy, Wall-e, Carl, and Merida, respectively.)

You could easily write a formulaic story using the general descriptions I listed in the first paragraph. None of these characters are particularly original, to be honest. There’s no paraplegic ex-flame-thrower who wants to be a librarian or a megalomaniac dwarf who is deathly afraid of luna moths. They’re all bordering on stock characters, people you might see every day at the grocery story.

But the story transforms them.

Thanks For That Image

An image is supposed to give you a better picture of something.

Is that statue in the park covered with random bird droppings really the town founder? No, but because it’s there, you have a face to the name. You can relate to him and understand him a little more.

Humans are made in the image of God. Yes, that means that we are supposed to reflect God to those around us. I’ve always known that.

But we can also learn about God by watching other people.

That one I missed.

Think about all the people you admire or love being around. Name the qualities they have that make them that kind of person. Then think about this—everything good in us comes from being made in God’s image, right? So everything you love about other people is fully present in Jesus.

Defending Snail Mail

Letters are scary things, apparently. Or they take too much time to write. Or there’s the rising costs of stamps. Or that disgusting glue on envelopes.

Yes, there are lots of excellent reasons not to write letters.

But there’s one very good reason why you should, and it sounds a lot like the Golden Rule. Think about how excited you get when you get a real letter in the mail. (If this never happens to you anymore, send me your address. I’d be happy to give you this experience so you can relate.) It’s nice to know that someone cares enough to take a writing instrument in their own one hand and jot down a note.

So do that for other people.

Low-Fat Grace

I make fun of worship songs.

There. I said it. Sure, I know, everyone has an annoying habit. Mine just happens to be sacrilegious.

I’ve ruined several worship songs (and even—gasp!—a few hymns) for my friends by making sarcastic comments related to lines of fluff or bad poetry.

One of my favorite little gems is in the song “He Loves Us”: “If grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.” It makes me picture a giant whirlpool of death, which is not the image that usually comes to mind when I think of Jesus saving us. I mean, if grace is a riptide ocean, who’s the lifeguard, Satan?

(I’m probably alienating a large portion of my audience. So let me make this disclaimer: I do believe He loves us, oh how He loves us, oh how He loves us, oh how He loves. I’m just not crazy about the song, whether or not the version contains the “sloppy wet kiss” line.)

The people who defend the line tell me it shows that God’s grace is vast and overwhelming. At which point I snobbishly point to a stanza in “The Love of God”: “Could we with ink the ocean fill / And were the skies of parchment made / Were every stalk on earth a quill / And every man a scribe by trade / To write the love of God above / Would drain the ocean dry / Nor could the scroll contain the whole / Though stretched from sky to sky.” And I say something like, “Top that, Chris Tomlin.”

They’re right, though. God’s grace is vast and overwhelming and beyond our comprehension and description. Maybe it’s a little bigger, a little more dangerous, than we like to let on.