Accidental Profundity

Quote of the day:  “Lies are the new facts”

It took me a few minutes to digest this statement when I read it.  After all, it reportedly came from a segment on “Live with Regis and Kelly,” not the place I would normally expect to hear poignant social evaluation.  But, the more I thought about it, the more astounded I was at just how profound a commentary on our culture the statement really is.

The Context:  During an appearance on the “Live with Regis and Kelly” television program, actress Gina Gershon described a Vanity Fair article that hinted she’d had an inappropriate relationship with former president Bill Clinton as a “crazy, outright lie.”  She further commented that such media stories should never make it into print, but in the common media culture today, “lies are the new facts.”  (See my post on President Clinton’s reaction to the article.)

We often hear these kinds of statements implying more cosmetic shifts in the general perspective — observations like “forty is the new thirty,” or “brown is the new black” — but, never broadened to the all encompassing analysis of true versus false.

“Lies are the new facts.”  

Our decision-making criteria, entertainment, principles of journalism, even our public policies seem mired in confusion.  The pressure to endlessly accept and tolerate all points of view has produced an inherent wavering in how we categorize truth and falsehood and a reluctance to believe fully in anything.  Although I’m tempted to label this rampant tolerance as “freedom” (many do), I suspect it’s less about liberation and more about doubt.  

“…for the one who doubts is like the surf of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind… a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.” (james 1:6-8)

Sound familiar?  Doubt creates a rudderless perpetual state of uncertainty and distrust.  When we live in doubt, we hesitate to believe anything, robbing our souls of the rest that comes from trust.  And so, lies, deception, and misconception become the new “facts” of our lives.  Doubt is a position of fear instability and unrest, not freedom.

How do we find the wisdom to know what is true and the strength to embrace it?  The antidote to doubt is faith — not just any faith, but faith in the right thing, or more specifically the right Person.

“But if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all generously and without reproach…” (james 1:5)
Read the Gershon article:  http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,364498,00.html

W is for Whole

A whole defies mathematics.  It adds up to so much greater than two halves, especially in hearts.  Just the added “w” makes it the opposite of hole.  Where a whole is given, there can be none of the empty void of hole.  A whole is full and complete–the thing in its entirety.  A whole lends importance to anything it touches.  I should do, see, love with my whole, or not at all.

S is for Squiggles

Squiggles are squeal-fueled giggles–the language of toddlers who haven’t quite learned the words.  Some sneak out, burst, or even explode.  They have an uncanny power to multiply without effort.  They are joy that needs no articulation

C is for Cobwebs

Cobwebs are what creep up in corners when you’re not paying attention.  A moment of shame. A mistake. Something you can’t remember or can’t forget.  They are sticky and catch things that brush against them by accident.  It helps to sweep out your cobwebs.

Culture Speak: “Comfort”

Cultural Context:  “The definition of comfort is very interesting. Comfort means hug, comfort means cry, comfort means smile, comfort means listen. Comfort also means, in many cases, assure the parent or the spouse that any decision made about troops in combat will be made with victory in mind, not made about my personal standing in the polls or partisan politics.” ~ President George Bush in an interview with the Washington Times.

Tidings of comfort and joy…
According to an article in the Washington Times, it seems that for the past seven years, President Bush has been regularly devoting time to meeting with wounded soldiers and the families of those killed in action in the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq as well as writing personal letters to the families of those lost in the line of duty.  A Fox News article introducing the Washington Times story reported that he has visited with over 500 families of soldiers killed in action and over 950 wounded military personnel, and has written over 4000 personal letters of comfort to those who have lost loved ones.  Both the President and First Lady commented in the article about the incredible (and emotional) experience of sharing not only the anguish of loss with those families, but also the joy the families felt in helping the Bushes get to know something personal about the soldiers who sacrificed so much.

Now, I’ll admit that the EyeJunkie CultureSpeak “column” is sometimes filled with outrage, sarcasm or snarky comments about just how ludicrous some of our cultural and media terminology really is.  But, not so with this one.  I had to write this one as a testimony to how impressed I am with George and Laura Bush.  I know it’s not popular.  His approval rating is probably somewhere in the tweens about now.  But, this man is undettered in his commitment to what he believes is right.  That’s impressive.  It takes quite a lot of courage to be willing to look into the eyes of a mother who has just lost her son in a war you sent him to fight–a war it seems in vogue to criticize.  Despite what we read in the papers, the Bushes recall that most of the families they’ve met have said their soldiers chose to fight–wanted to serve and understood the need to fight and win this war.

What is just as impressive as his commitment of time and energy consoling grieving families is the fact that his mission of comfort has (by intention) largely been conducted under the radar of the ever-vigilant media.  Given the voraciousness of our media machine, that’s quite an endeavor.  His efforts have only been publicized when at the request of one of the veterans or military families.  The president and his staff have diligently guarded his meetings with loved ones to protect their privacy and allow them to express their grief without the flash of cameras.  Now, with less than one month left in office, the story is reported–not at times 2 years or 5 years ago when a boost in the polls provided by such patriotism might have been used to pass a bill, confirm pubic support or influence an election.

At the risk of slipping into something snarky, however, I have to say that as impressed as I am with George Bush, I’m equally as unimpressed with the lack of reporting on this 7-year phenomenon.  While I am thankful on behalf of the families concerned that they have not been exposed to the scrutiny of Joe-the-Plumber fame, I’m also disappointed that noone seemed interested in sniffing out the President’s tidings of comfort.  Consider that I can’t enjoy 24 hours without finding out the color of Brittney Spears underwear or the latest shopping purchase of Paris Hilton.  Yet, 1450 visits and a 4000-piece letter writing campaign has gone unnoticed?

4000 letters.  That’s more than one hand-written personal correspondence a day for the last seven years.  From the President of the United States.  The Washington Times article was extensive, but Fox News… 228 words.  CNN… no mention.  The national media’s “closer look” at the lives of the fallen has considerably fallen by the wayside beyond the first news cycles of the wars, while the President’s has been a more than 2500-day mission of mercy.

Regardless of your view of politics and the war–regardless of mine–I am thankful for a Commander in Chief who has taken time to count the cost more intimately than most making the headlines.  I am thankful for the integrity revealed in his unnoticed comforting.  I am thankful for his courage to expose himself to the criticism–not of pundits, journalists and starlets, but of those who have given their most precious gifts to the cause.  I am thankful for the perseverance he’s shown in staying the course despite detractors.  I am thankful for his quiet resistance to using the pain of others for political gain.  I’ll say it again.  I’m impressed.

Best Friend

“Jesus is my best friend
I can always go to Him
tell Him everything
I’m thinking of
my friend Jesus
whom I love.”

~ Twila Paris, My Best Friend
Bedtime Prayers CD

I put this song on a lullaby CD I made for my boys.  They listen to it every night as we’re tucking in and rubbing backs.  Lullabies seem to really boil ideas down to their basics, and listening to it has given me the opportunity to let the simple messages really sink in.  For me, the joys of the Christmas season usually include small pockets of melancholy for some reason, and this year is no different.  I’ve noticed a sense of loneliness in my spirit even though I’m almost constantly surrounded by people.  I want to sing this song.  But right now, I don’t know if I would describe Jesus as my best friend–a friend, a Saviour, to be sure, but not necessarily my BEST friend.  I want to live this song.  I need to.  I want to rest in Emmanuel and feel the nearness of “God with us.”  I want to approach Him as I would a person, to run to Him with the latest news, to share with him my thoughts and feelings, to rely on Him for encouragement and advice.  I want to love Him–all the more as I celebrate His birth.

12th Day of Thanksgiving: We Gather Together

We gather together
to ask the Lord’s blessing;
He chastens and hastens
His will to make known.
The wicked oppressing
now cease from distressing.
Sing praises to His name,
He forgets not His own.

Beside us to guide us,
our God with us joining,
ordaining, maintaining
His kingdom divine;
so from the beginning
the fight we were winning;
thou, Lord, wast at our side,
all glory be thine!

Lyrics: Nederlandtsch Gedencklanck; trans. by Theodore Baker 
Music: 16th cent. Dutch melody; arr. by Edward Kremser (1838-1914)

Curveball

“November resembles a curveball.  Just when you think you know where the ball will go over the plate it shifts on you and you’re swinging wind.”

~ Outfoxed by Rita Mae Brown

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the heavens
the angels were silent in anticipation.
For centuries they had waited for such a special flight,
and now it would happen this very night.

In the throne room the Father talked with His Son
of dreams and desires and what was to come.
“My Son, I’ve loved them since breathing their life,
and for years they’ve suffered with sin and strife.
Now it’s time to offer them relief,
for the groan of their sorrow is more than I can take.”

“Oh, Father, I’ve begun to feel their yearning
even before I take my journey.
The weight of their burden is heavy on my back.
I can almost feel the sting of their attacks.
Inside me the sadness of leaving burns,
but, Father, I can bring them when I return.”

“Yes, we’ll be united with our bride.
She’ll no longer have a reason to hide.
And, you’ll return to me, this I know.
But now, my love, You must go.
Gabriel!  Come!  Assemble your band.
For the birth of My Son is now at hand.”

With the stroke of His hand He split the sky.
As He watched the departure He heaved a sigh,
for He knew the sin His Son would endure
and the punishment of death–His suffering was sure.
But, this night all of heaven would rejoice
as they hailed the mystery of the Master’s choice
to limit Himself to the form of a babe
to bring reunion with those He would save.
So as He dripped a star from His fingertips
praises rang from the angels’ lips,
but the Father was quiet, a tear on His cheek
from the painful price required for peace.
And, from the joy He saw in ages to come,
when all His children would join Him at home.

So this night before Christmas as you drift to sleep,
and He sends His hosts with protection and peace,
may you keep His love for you well in sight,
and Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.