Brains vs Minds

My Brain on Caffeine

"Well, how can you talk if you haven't got a brain?" she asked.

"I don't know. But some people without brains do an awful lot of talking." he replied.

excerpt from a conversation between a man of straw and a runaway from Kansas

I once had a Japanese student who was actually from Japan. His father, a fisherman in a small village, had saved enough money for his son to attend an American university. This student was one of the most attentive I have had the privilege to teach. He often stayed after class to ask questions, he would stop me in the library to speak further. If he saw me walking across campus or having coffee in the student center he would make a point to speak to me. He took copious notes, in Japanese. His English was broken, usually aided by a handheld electronic translator. But not everything is translatable. Try explaining the expression 'tongue in cheek' to someone from another culture and language. I even used hand signals and facial expressions, to no avail. (Thank goodness I didn't use the Southern colloquialism 'boogered up'). He was extremely intelligent, and determined to learn, in spite of communication issues. I think he wanted to make his father proud.

Last year I participated in a clinical study conducted by Wake Forest. The researchers were looking for the effects of caffeine on the brain. I drink coffee. Alot. So, I was a good candidate. During the study my brain was scanned 4 times, twice fully loaded with coffee, twice deprived (72 hour caffeine fast prior to scan). My body does not like being deprived of coffee. So, the doctors have images of my brain but none of my mind. It is still being renewed.

Back To School

"The line between reality is my door."
John Baldessari

Back to school... the words bring new crayons to my mind, the big box with the built-in sharpener. There is something beautiful about a new box of crayons. Perfectly flat tops. Pristine paper labels. That 'waxy' smell when you first open the box. The creative possibilities of pigment and paraffin are enormous. Of course, Crayola makes the best. No other crayon even comes close. Ask any kid.

The past couple of years have been like going back to school, with every day being the first. That's how it is in the life we call walking with God. His school is filled with surprises, excitement, drama, tension. His creative possibilities are new and fresh. He is a good teacher. And, He doesn't mind repeating a lesson until I get it. (His patience astounds me). Recently I've had a couple of 'aha' moments, the moment in time when the light bulb comes on and I get it. Here's one of my aha's- God has entrusted all of us with precious gifts called time and imagination. I want to be a good steward, of both. I'm working on it. Yesterday I walked to WalMart and bought a box of crayons.

Paradise Lost

"Words are sacred. They deserve respect. If you get the right ones, in the right order, you can nudge the world a little."

Tom Stoppard

'Jesus Loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so...'

From the novel Say and Seal, Susan Warner, 1860

So, I wanted to find a reader's copy of Paradise Lost (hardcover that I could write in)...what better source than eBay. Eureka! I found a copy published by International Collector's Library, 1969. Mine was the winning bid, actually, the only bid. For $3.50 I purchased a mint, hardcover copy that contains not only Paradise Lost, but also Paradise Regained, and Samson Agonistes. It doesn't appear to have ever been opened. John Milton and I share the same birthday, well, a few years apart. He recently celebrated his 400th birthday party. I wonder if, as he penned Paradise Lost, he foresaw the impact his words would have? But then, I wonder if any of us consider the impact of our words?
Yesterday I was in line at WalMart. There are interesting people at WalMart. Opportunities for conversation abound there. I began a conversation with the man in front of me.
"That's alot of stuffed sausage!" I commented (probably 30 packages).
"Yes, but I'm not going to eat them all. In fact, come by at noon and you can help me eat them."
I thought about him the rest of the day. He was filled with joy. I wonder what he thinks of Paradise Lost?

Age of Wonder

We live in an age of Wonder. With a small device known as the iPod, I can listen to a lecture by Calvin Seerveld or music by Michael Card, while walking around a lake.
But, as fascinating as that may seem, nothing beats a good conversation. This weekend I had a good conversation with my son. We camped, we fished (well, we cast rubber worms into the lake), we ate...alot. Two teenage guys can put some food away. I let the boys plan the menu:
Breakfast
Eggs, Toast, Bacon (thick), Doughnuts, Orange Juice, Coffee
Lunch
Hot Dogs, Chips, Trail Mix, Salsa, Mountain Dew
Dinner
Steak (Marinated 24 Hours), Stuffed Baked Potatoes, Salad, Crusty Bread
and, of course, snack stuff.

After many words, and some laughter, I realised that moments like we were enjoying don't happen often enough. I realised my youngest son is not a little boy any longer. I realised the generational gap between us doesn't have to come between us. And, as I listened to my son share his thoughts, I remembered being a teenager.
Relationships are fragile. I have seen a few broken, some of which are credited to my account. Regret is a terrible companion. As the days speed by I am trying to work on the relationships I have left. In order to do that, I need to learn how to be a better listener.

Looking

"People ask me, How do you write a song? I tell them, It's kinda like fishing. It's mostly about being there, and, if you have a pencil when one swims by you can catch it." Arlo Guthrie



Today I looked for fishing poles. It took me awhile to find them. And then, I wondered, "How much time do I spend looking for things?" I have a trip planned for Sam (my son), Zach (a friend) and I to go fishing this weekend. But the trip is about more than fishing. Sam is soon to be 15, Zach is 18. The trip is about conversation (fishing lends itself to conversation). The conversation? Sexual purity. I Know, a heavy topic. But I feel compelled. It is time to continue the conversation I began some time ago with my son. I have asked 24 men of God, men of prayer, to stand with me in prayer that the conversation this weekend would glorify God.



As I have reflected on this issue I realized that men (myself included) are looking for something. We are looking for the real. We are looking for God. Not the god of this world but God, the I Am. And, I realized He wants to be found. So, I am going fishing with my son. I believe God will be there. The prayers of 24 men will be there.

On Being

"Just because something is technically legal doesn't mean that it's spiritually appropriate. If I went around doing whatever I thought I could get by with, I'd be a slave to my whims." from a letter to a church in Corinth, 1st century AD, The Message.

Saturday I went hiking with my son, Sam, and his youth group. Actually, they allowed me to drag along. Brian, the youth leader, told me it was a twenty-minute hike to the top of Crowder's Mountain. He didn't tell me it was straight up. I thought I was going to die. No one else even seemed winded. Two minutes into the hike I realised I am pathetically out of shape. By the time we reached the top I had made several vows, among which included a change of diet and exercise. Two days later, while still sore, I haven't changed my mind.

In my Senior year of High School I ran two miles daily. I weighed 145 lbs. That was 35 years ago. Now my weight is, well, more than 145. I can't run 100 yards without some problems. This, of course, didn't happen overnight. While taking spiritual inventory this morning, I was looking over my notes from Robin McMillan's sermon yesterday. Reflecting on Paul's words regarding our bodies, my gaze stopped at this quote from Robin- "The hidden things affect the visible things." Things we do in secret will eventually become known. The spiritual affects the physical. Because change is gradual, at times even imperceptible, we're usually not aware of problem issues until they are a problem. Habits form over time. While some habits are bad, some are good. Last week my wife and I began taking Communion together, daily. The result has been amazing.

So today begins a new start. Hopefully a few good habits will follow. I have another hike planned with my son next weekend.

Mean Teachers

"Do not try to satisfy your vanity by teaching a great many things. Awaken people's curiosity. It is enough to open minds, do not overload them. Put there just a spark. If there is some good inflammable stuff, it will catch fire."

Anatole France



My perspective of education has changed. High school classrooms looked different through sixteen-year-old eyes than through fifty-year-old eyes. My view of teachers has also changed. The Living Bible says this, "A wise teacher makes learning a joy!" Proverbs 15:2. I don't recall any of my high school teachers making anything a joy. School was to be endured, not enjoyed (I am quite certain the opinion I held of my teachers was reciprocal). But then, there was Mr. Davis, 9th grade math teacher. Everyday, Mr. Davis wore a short-sleeved, white shirt with the sleeves rolled. I've never understood why people roll short-sleeves. There were always several pens in his pocket and always a King James Bible on his desk. I never saw him pick it up. He never made reference to it. But, like a silent sentry of truth, it was always there. He is one of the few teachers I remember.



In my Senior year of high school I made this vow- 'If I ever graduate (and there were 'iffy' moments) I will never set foot in a school again!' I can now imagine a band of angels looking curiously at the Lord, wondering about the smile my vow brought to His face. For reasons known but to Him, after high school I enrolled in college. It was there that God called me to teach. Years later I found myself teaching high school students at Overton High, Memphis, Tennessee. It didn't take long to know that the view from the teacher's desk is radically different than the view from the student's. Suddenly, all those 'mean' teachers from my youth became human. I knew something would have to happen beyond my abilities, something would be required of me. And then I remembered Mr. Davis.

Two weeks into the school year it happened.
"Today," I announced to a class of 35 high school art students,"I want you to illustrate the concept of LOVE, without using words."
Silence. No movement. Finally, in the back of the room, a small girl raised her hand.
"What if you don't know what love is?" she asked.
I picked up the Bible from my desk and read I Corinthians, chapter 13. I placed the Bible back on my desk. The atmosphere in the room changed. That week I began to write Scripture on the blackboard, a new verse every week. By Christmas I noticed students copying the verses in their notebooks. The Word of God seen and heard in a public school classroom. Teachers began stopping by to read the verse of the week. One asked, "Can you do that?" I explained the Supreme Court ruling regarding sacred literature in government schools- 'you may expose but not expound.' Read, show- don't comment! I wonder what would happen if more preachers followed this rule.