Itsara

Say you’ve got an orphanage and it’s fairly crowded, but not so much that you couldn’t crowd it a little more. You have just enough money that you can either get one more orphan or make the orphanage less crowded for the existing orphans. What do you do? Say you accept another orphan and a short time later you have to make the same decision. What do you do then? What do you do the time after that?

At first glance, it seems simple to me: include as many orphans as we can. But what determines whether or not “we can”? If I follow my heart and include them all, at some point the orphanage will be as crowded as a phone booth filled with bored high school students.

At what point do we say, “I’m sorry, we cannot accept any more orphans right now”? At what point do we decide that we simply cannot squeeze another one in? Surely a little less food for everyone is better than leaving that little one on the street? Certainly we can fit one more in that corner? Or two on that bed? Of course it’s worth it to sleep on the floor so that one more child can be dry tonight - isn’t it?

Ugh, I feel like Liam Neeson at the end of Schindler’s List. “I could’ve saved one more…”

We’re taking off tonight to be with Cindy’s family in New York for Thanksgiving (so no posts for a week probably, sorry to disappoint ;-). I do like hanging out with her family; I get more comfortable everytime I do (and we get to see our niece - coincidentally an orphan adopted from Thailand!).

The reason I’m telling you this though is because time spent with Cindy’s family suddenly got a lot more interesting now that we’re moving to Thailand. They all know we’re going, but I think we’ll still get a lot of questions. Her parents are very loving and generally understanding but, well… they worry. Sometimes a lot. And I know it worries them to know their daughter is moving away from “safe” America to be a Christian missionary (something I’m not sure they’re entirely comfortable with anyway) in Chiang Mai.

They’re kind of happy and worried at the same time, and I have a hunch that some part of them thinks we’re crazy. We’ve been asked multiple times how we’re going to earn money (that’s not a concern unique to them, but they do ask it a lot), and we’ve been asked a couple of times about writing a “proposal” or something (that one confused me at first - I think there’s an assumption that we have to get a grant or go through some sort of official channel). I believe they think of it as a great and noble idea, but also really scary. And now that I say it that way, I actually agree with them - I guess I’ve just already gone through all the possible scenarios I think are worth worrying about.

If you want to pray, pray for the conversations we’ll have in New York. Cuz the thing I love about this is that it seems like our faith is becoming really real to them for the first time. Maybe Cindy can give you more background, but they don’t like us trying to “convert” them so we generally don’t try anymore. But now they’re asking us the questions, and it’s impossible to answer without talking about God. They’re also asking Cindy’s sisters, Marissa and Diane (both Christian), the same questions about us, and I love that because I know their responses will only solidify what we are trying to tell them.

That’s part of what convinced me we were doing the right thing. I generally think that when “normal” people think we’re crazy, then we’re probably doing something right (assuming God is the reason for our insanity). I just pray that they begin to see the sanity in it and begin to Trust.

Casey Luskin is an old friend of mine from college. He is currently a law student at USD, and he is also the co-founder and co-president of the IDEA Center, a non-profit organization dedicated to promoting intelligent design theory.

Casey is going to be on the Powerpoint public radio program on NPR on Sunday at 6 pm Pacific discussing intelligent design and evolution. If you’re at all interested in intelligent design and/or evolution, I recommend you listen in (I provide a link below).

But I also want to ask you to pray for Casey. He has put himself in the undesirable position of standing in the gap between science and religion and trying to find common ground where the two can talk - reasonably - with each other. In so doing, he has come under great persecution - especially from the scientific community (I thought they were supposed to be open-minded?). If you check some of the Google results on his name, you can see some of the persecution he’s been under. Knowing Casey as a friend, it really hurt me to read some of the things that have been said about him.

So pray for Casey. Not that he “wins”, but that he is able to love his enemies in the face of this persecution, and even to take joy in it.

And while you’re at it, listen in Sunday at 6 (Pacific). I don’t think it’ll be playing in San Diego, but you can listen online from http://wclk.com/listen_live.htm.

Update, June 7, 2005: I don’t know where Scott’s original rant has gone, so the link may not point you to the rant I was talking about. At least I quoted a little of it.

“We were meant to live for so much more. Have we lost ourselves?”

A rant by the author of PVP (a gaming web-comic) has triggered a discussion that, in turn, has triggered this post. Scott Kurtz is reflecting on the death of his mother nearly 10 years ago. During that reflection, he starts to get mad at the standard vision of Heaven we have been given:

“Why is it that we as a people are so afraid of the unknown that the best afterlife we can conjure is a cushy spot to sit and look down upon the lives we no longer get to live? Is that the best we can do? Is this the best our religious leaders have to offer us? How utterly uninspiring.”

As part of the e-mail discussion we had regarding the rant, Matt had this commentary to add:

“I didn’t think [Scott] had a problem with Jesus - I think he just has a problem with the Hallmark-ized version of Heaven that (and this is the part that scares me, I realized a minute ago) most of America has. It’s empty, vacuous, and offers no real solace or comfort, or excitement, or anything. It’s ultimately worthless.”

There was definitely a time when I felt the way Scott does about the view of Heaven that I was fed. Although as you’ll see, my conclusion since then has been different (though Matt did hold out the hope that maybe this is God working in Scott’s heart - God, I pray so). (more…)

UPDATE (11/16): I’m back on the project. The “funding cut” was a misunderstanding. It doesn’t change the greater debate of whether or not I tell them and when I should quit. It only removes the urgency.

My company does not know about our Thailand plans. I don’t really want them to because I’ve been at a job before where they knew I was leaving but still had to pay me to keep the keyboard warm. I had nothing to do for a month. It’s true that I would rather be bored than stressed, but that was a really boring month.

Now it’s getting weird again. My project got an unexpected funding cut, and my last day on this project (which I just started 1-2 months ago) is December 3rd. It’s actually slightly amusing to watch my bosses trip over their own feet trying to tell me in the nicest way possible that I don’t have a project in 3 weeks. I try to tell them it’s okay and that they can’t offend me or even worry me, but I don’t think they’d believe me if I told them that they could lay me off and I’d actually be happy. It would be one less decision I have to make.

Then there’s the debate. What would be the worst that happened if I told them? I’m only here 3 days a week now, so would it really be that bad if I was given nothing to do? And if I was laid off, could we afford to live until we leave? Maybe I should just make that calculation anyway. If we start asking for support in December, you’ll know why ;-)

*****

I’ve added Mike McMahon’s weblog to my list of friends’ blogs. He used to send out really cool devotionals (for lack of a better word) via e-mail, and when I asked him why he stopped I wasn’t surprised to find out he had a blog. Oh, he’s also Shannon’s boyfriend, so you might hear a lot about her over there.

*****

One more thing. For everyone who has switched their primary e-mail address, you really need to tell me if you’re not checking your old one anymore. Three times in the last week I’ve talked to people and found out they didn’t get my e-mails because they “don’t check that old address anymore.”

All I ask is that you keep me in the loop. This is all about me. Me not knowing your e-mail. Even though I see you every week and I know your phone number and I’m just too lazy to pick up the phone. Me, me, me. My life revolves around me, why doesn’t your’s?

Okay, I’m done now. Sorry.

Today is Veteran’s Day, and every year I find myself wondering why my company does not get Veteran’s Day off as a holiday, especially when most of my bosses are veterans. If I were in charge, I’d give myself the day off. Maybe it says something about their commitment to work.

I find myself thinking about the other veterans I know. Except for my bosses and my brother, all the veterans I know live outside. They sleep in the parks, under the bridges, and on the riverbeds of San Diego. During the day they wander, or sleep because the cops are out at night. They find food where they can - America has an abundance of it, and doesn’t mind giving it to them as long as they go away quickly so they don’t scare the customers.

Most of the time they are invisible. Even when someone gives them money, it is more so the person can smile rather than that the veteran is fed. They reach their hand out of the car and stare forward as if hypnotized - perhaps not wishing to see the sun-scorched skin hanging from sockless feet, or hoping they won’t smell the halitosis - not hearing the weary-but-heartfelt “God bless you” - not seeing the eyes of a human being.

It’s okay. I do it too, when I even give money at all.

I wish I knew how they all got out there. I only know a few stories. Most of them became addicted to something and spent their lives in chasing it: booze, pot, heroine, horseracing, women, anger… Some were addicted when they came back from war. Some lost their jobs then their families then their homes and became addicted later - because that’s the only way to stay sane in a world that would rather you did not exist.

I wonder how some veterans became corporate moguls while others became derelicts. Was it the choices they made? Was it the society they came back to? Does it matter? As one who has suffered from addiction (not chemical, but addiction just the same), I know it is impossible to free oneself once one is trapped. “Why” is no longer important, only “how” - how do I get out? I only know one man who has ever been able to free people from addictions, and it isn’t me.

In my last two posts, I talked about the first phase, what we need to do before we leave, and the second phase, what we plan on doing when we get there. I hope that this has been interesting for you, but more than that I hope it has answered some questions. The third phase is really everything that happens after we have an orphanage. This is really our vision rather than any hard and fast plans. (more…)

In my last post, I went over most of what we plan to do from now until we actually get on the plane. I admit, it was all very boring, detailly stuff. In fact, except for the visas, it’s probably a lot like any other major move (I’ve never actually done a major move like this, so I’m just guessing). This post is about what we think life will be like when we first get there. (more…)

I realize up until now I have only given you a taste of our plans via the FAQ. These next few posts will be a little more thorough (and therefore long). And of course keep in mind that it is God who has called us out, so He will determine what actually happens. I know at least Cindy and I tend to think of this in three phases: (1) before we move, (2) before we build the orphanage, and (3) the unforeseeable future. This is what we think will happen in the first phase. (more…)

I, for one, will sleep easier knowing our country is in good hands.