116. Because I Am a Christian

While my command of the English language is redoubtable—well, adequate—my knowledge of Spanish is weak. I’ve read very little Latin American literature, and understood very little of what I’ve read.

There is one story, however, I will never forget.

Juan León Mera, the man who wrote the lyrics to Ecuador’s national anthem, penned a story titled “Porque Soy Cristiano,” which translates to “Because I Am a Christian.” I had to read it for one of my Spanish classes in middle school.

It’s the story of a man whom a military officer treats brutally during one of South America’s many civil wars. The officer eventually cuts off the man’s arm with a machete and abandons him. Many years later, the officer is injured (or becomes sick; I don’t recall exactly) and is rescued by a one-armed peasant.

Of course, the peasant is the man whom the officer had maimed years before. Although he recognizes the officer, the peasant chooses to care for him instead of exacting revenge. When the officer learns the identity of his rescuer, he’s staggered.

“Why have you helped me?” he asks.

The peasant replies, “Because I am a Christian.”

It’s only a few words, but it’s enough. Everyone understands. Christian means forgiveness. Christian means compassion. Christian means love—not romantic nonsense, but a simple resolve to treat other people decently.

Things have changed.

To many people today, Christian means hypocrisy. Christian means superstition. Christian means homophobia, prejudice, legalism, ignorance, arrogance and prudishness. Christian means spending an hour sitting in church every Sunday.

Many followers of Christ have abandoned the word Christian due to its negative connotations. I don’t blame them, and yet I don’t agree. I think the word Christian can be redeemed. How can we redeem it? What can we do?

Do we even have to ask?

Let’s redefine Christian. Better yet, let’s stop redefining it. Its original meaning was awesome.

Why do I read those boring prophecies and genealogies in the Bible? Why do I refrain from lying and swearing and being an Internet troll? Why do I even try to treat other people with kindness and respect?

Because I am a Christian.

114. Communion Anxiety

Christians know all about Communion. Seriously, we’ve got it covered. Call it the Lord’s Supper, Eucharist, whatever you like, we know our stuff. We partake of little crackers and juice from plastic cups that look like shot glasses. The pastor reads a few verses we’ve all heard before. “This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of me.” It’s all pretty familiar, right?

Then the pastor says, “So then, whoever eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty of sinning against the body and blood of the Lord.”

Wait, what?

“Everyone ought to examine themselves before they eat of the bread and drink from the cup,” continues the pastor. “For those who eat and drink without discerning the body of Christ eat and drink judgment on themselves.”

Judgment? That sounds serious. I’d better see what the Bible says. That’s usually a good start.

Paul writes, “For those who eat and drink without discerning the body of Christ eat and drink judgment on themselves. That is why many among you are weak and sick, and a number of you have fallen asleep.”

Fallen asleep? That doesn’t sound so bad—unless by fallen asleep Paul means died. That does sound bad. Paul’s going all Mafia on us. “Dat’s why many o’ youse is weak an’ sick, see? Some o’ youse is fallen asleep, if youse catch my drift.”

So we, um, fall asleep if we eat and drink judgment on ourselves? And we eat and drink judgment on ourselves by failing to discern the symbolism of Christ’s death in the crackers and Communion cups?

Well, there’s no need to panic. I’ll just partake of Communion in a manner worthy of the Lord. That’s not so hard. Christians do it every Sunday.

Is anyone else stressing out in church today? I mean, everyone looks calm and earnest, like it’s no big deal. Except for that guy who has fallen asleep. Really fallen asleep, I mean, not…you know…fallen asleep.

It’s better not to think about that. Okay. Do this in remembrance of me. Manner worthy of the Lord. I can do this. Ah! The pastor is telling us to partake of the bread! Wait, please! I’m not ready! I’m too young to die!

All right, I’m exaggerating for dramatic effect. Slightly exaggerating. The Lord’s Supper is an amazing sacrament, a powerful reminder of God’s love in Jesus Christ. Communion isn’t really this nerve-wracking. Not quite.

What stresses you out in worship services? Let us know in the comments!

107. Things I Don’t Talk About

There are things I don’t talk about.

Some of these things are trivial. I enjoy watching a television show about magical rainbow ponies, for example. I sometimes make faces at myself in the bathroom mirror. I also think Miley Cyrus’s “Party in the USA” is pretty darn catchy.

I’m not ashamed of these things, but they’re a little embarrassing, and so I keep them to myself.

Then there are the other things I don’t talk about—things that are anything but trivial.

I’ve suffered for years from serious depression. It comes and goes more or less at random, and robs me of the ability to do much of anything except breathe. When I’m depressed, all I can do is pray, retreat to my bedroom with a cup of tea and wait until my depression goes away.

I struggle with insecurity. Although I try not to let it show, I often wrestle with doubts and worries about my future, my faith, my writing and pretty much everything else.

I worry too much about my reputation, and show too little care or concern for the needs of other people.

I don’t feel particularly at home anywhere in the world. Even though I grew up in Ecuador, my Spanish is pretty weak. The culture of the United States is still strange to me. Every country feels like a foreign one.

Why don’t I ever talk about these things?

Well, it’s embarrassing and awkward. These things tear apart the bookish, cheerful, slightly eccentric impression I wish to make on people. Being vulnerable is hard. Sharing my insecurities feels too much like complaining or making excuses. It’s easier to reminisce about crazy high school teachers or grumble about how modern worship music is badly written.

I think other people would be more patient with me if they understood my struggles.

Do you know what else?

I would be a dashed lot more patient with other people if I understood their struggles.

My closest relationships are those in which the things we don’t talk about have been talked about. Some of the best discussions I’ve ever had were the ones in which the masks came off. These discussions were uncomfortable, but they built up stronger friendships.

There are times when revelations of a personal nature aren’t appropriate. There is a very, very fine line between being vulnerable and complaining about personal problems. It takes discernment to know when to speak and when to remain silent.

The problem is when I simply remain silent, hiding my struggles, refusing to acknowledge I’m not perfectly self-sufficient.

Uncle Iroh and the Apostle Paul—a fictional tea-drinker and a famous missionary, respectively—seem to agree on certain issues, and this is one of them.

Uncle Iroh once said, “There is nothing wrong with letting people who love you help you.”

The Apostle Paul wrote, “Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.”

Maybe we should talk about the things we don’t talk about.

106. How to Make Christian Media Awesome

Today’s post was written by Paul McCusker, veteran writer and director for Adventures in Odyssey and Focus on the Family Radio Theatre, and author of numerous books and plays. (For more from Paul, check out his website!) Since his work in Christian media has been phenomenal, I could think of no better person of whom to ask the question: “Why does Christian media so often fail, and how can we make it better?”

In the thirty years I’ve spent as a writer I’ve often heard Christians complain about the sub-standard quality of the Arts in modern Evangelical Christendom. The lament is that films, novels, plays, music and all other forms of Art seem to suffer at the hands of well-meaning Christians. I have launched this complaint myself at one time or another. And some might argue that I’ve contributed to the problem, considering my varied career as a writer in some of those fields.

Before we complain too much or too often, I think it helps to ask a few questions just to clarify what we’re talking about. What do people mean by “sub-standard quality”? Sub-standard compared to what? Are we measuring against the secular realm, which certainly has its share of flops (maybe even more if you consider the percentages)? Or are we measuring against something else? If so, what?

If nothing else, we need a coherent definition of success. For example, how do we measure artistic success? Is it based on a sense of fulfillment and experience—a story or song hits in all the right ways for the audience? Or maybe it’s the fulfillment and experience of the artist, somehow shared with others? I once read how the composer Ralph Vaughan Williams stated that he wasn’t sure if he liked it one of his symphonies, but it was certainly what he meant to say when he wrote it.

Are we measuring according to financial success? Is a great story something less than a great story if a lot of people don’t buy it? Or maybe we’re creating sub-standard art because we don’t have the right level of investment at the start? More money means better effort? Or does it?

Or are we measuring according to spiritual success, tallied by the number of people who are drawn closer to Christ in one way or the other?

These are the kinds of questions we must ask before applauding or dismissing the efforts of Artists. I’ve been moved by stories that I knew were not very well-made. Equally, I’ve been unmoved by stories because the flaws were impossible to look past. I’ve shrugged at big-budget films that should have gotten it right and didn’t. And I’ve watched in wonder at low-budget films that combined plot, character and theme in near-perfection.

All these questions aren’t meant to evade the issue. I’ve wrestled with them repeatedly over the years—from project to project, and audience to audience. There are so many factors an Artist in any discipline has to consider. But those factors aren’t always clear to the unwary. And success may only be an elusive hope, no matter what we do. But let’s allow that we should always do our best. Here are a few suggestions how.

I would suggest that any Artist—Christian or otherwise—must know the disciplines of Art. We must learn the craft. Master it, as much as it can be mastered. Do our very best while recognizing our limitations and the limitations of the Art we hope to master. Understand the objective rules of Art while appreciating the subjective experience people will have of it. Learn, learn and keep learning.

We must never do, nor accept, less than the very best, even if people seem to grow closer to God because of it. Well-intended rubbish is still rubbish. God can redeem our very worst efforts, but we mustn’t keep putting Him in a position where He has to. Yes, we can be forgiving about poorly crafted Art, but we mustn’t let that forgiveness excuse the flaws in a poor effort.

We have to remember that every Artistic effort has its own choices and challenges and opportunities for mistakes. The goal is to learn from those mistakes this time in the hope we won’t repeat them again next time. We learn—and we learn again.

It’s not popular to suggest it, but I believe we must understand for whom we write. Who are they? What are they expecting from us? (And if we don’t like the answer to that question, then we may be writing for the wrong audience.) It’s easy to look down our artistic noses at the very people we want to communicate with—especially when they’ve rejected us. Personally, I’m inclined to want to assume the best about my audience. I suspect that they are a lot smarter than me—and haven’t been proven wrong—and try to write accordingly.

None of this has to do with being “successful” in media, by the way. It’s only part of the equation. Our “success” as Artists is often determined by sales-people, distributors, producers, marketers, and a large number of professionals who will impact what we do and how we do it. In that world, we have to learn their rules—and try to play by them—until someone creates new rules for us to learn and follow. That’s yet another reality.

Even as I guest-write this blog, I’m aware that there’s someone looking over my shoulder, representing his audience, determining whether or not I’ve come close to what he asked me to write. And as I wind up, I have to paraphrase Ralph Vaughan Williams once again: I don’t know if I like what I’ve written, but it’s what I meant to say.

104. Jesus Was an Introvert

During his life on Earth, Jesus was an introvert.

I don’t have any concrete proof to back up my claim. However, I’ve read enough courtroom mysteries (and played enough Ace Attorney games) to know that evidence is everything in a court of law (or a blog of typewriter monkeys).

Unlike extroverts, who enjoy being with people and dislike being alone, an introvert is a person who prefers solitary activities over social ones. Introversion shouldn’t be confused with shyness: an introvert prefers being alone, whereas a shy person avoids social events out of fear.

Now for the evidence!

The Lord Jesus often withdrew to solitary places. Mark informs us, “Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, Jesus got up, left the house and went off to a solitary place, where he prayed” (1:35). Matthew points out that the Lord’s response to the death of his cousin John was to get away from people: “When Jesus heard what had happened, he withdrew by boat privately to a solitary place” (14:13). Luke confirms that Jesus went off alone early in the morning (4:42).

Introverts are sometimes viewed with suspicion, as though their love of solitude were a deficiency that requires a cure. That’s nonsense. Personally, I think introverts are awesome.

Granted, I’m sort of biased.

As an introvert, I find the passages describing the Lord’s preference for solitude encouraging. If Jesus Christ could get away with being introverted, then so can I!

I think both introverts and extroverts can learn something from Jesus.

Extroverts must try to be sensitive toward introverts. For example, introverts sometimes turn down invitations or leave social events early: not to offend anyone, but simply because they feel overwhelmed.

Introverts mustn’t use their liking of solitude as an excuse for being lazy or avoiding people. The Lord Jesus may have been an introvert, but he spent countless hours teaching, preaching, healing the sick and comforting the discouraged. For every hour he spent alone, he spent many more helping people. Introversion mustn’t become a license for selfishness.

Now I’ll withdraw to a solitary place to enjoy a solitary activity.

To wit, I’m off to my bedroom to drink some coffee.

100. An Important Post

Typewriter Monkey Task Force has featured one hundred regular posts! Today, my friends, is a great and solemn day. At least it would have been if my typewriter monkeys hadn’t gotten their paws on some fireworks.

This milestone post gives me the opportunity to revisit a few important posts and to make some announcements.

Beginning today, my monkeys and I are taking a week off from TMTF. Regular posts will resume next Monday, July ninth. I’m taking a break in order to focus on a bigger project, which brings us to the next announcement.

The Trials of Lance Eliot—my debut novel—comes out today!

Six years ago, I began working on the novel that would grow into The Trials of Lance Eliot, the first volume of a trilogy titled The Eliot Papers. The project has been my greatest passion as a writer, so I’m excited finally to be able to share it!

The novel is available for purchase!

A few months ago, I published The Infinity Manuscript, a fantasy in twelve parts, as a serial on this blog. The Infinity Manuscript isn’t nearly as polished as The Trials of Lance Eliot, but it’s available to read for free!

I also wrote a short but significant series of posts titled Help, I’m a Christian! in which I shared some of the most valuable lessons I’ve learned about relationships, faith and Christian living.

In addition to TMTF and the blog for my novel, I maintain a blog called Solidarity that shares reports of persecution against Christians. Please feel free to check out Solidarity or my explanation of why it matters.

I’d love to feature more guest posts on TMTF! If you’d like to write a post for this blog, check out these guidelines.

I’ve also been privileged to write a few guest posts for other blogs, including Stuff Christians Like, Social Biblia and Thomas Mark Zuniga’s blog. My typewriter monkeys and I are always delighted to write guest posts, so feel free to contact me if you’re ever in search of a guest blogger!

Finally, I need to thank some people for their assistance, encouragement and support.

Thanks to my typewriter monkeys—Sophia, Socrates, Plato, Hera, Penelope, Aristotle, Apollo, Euripides, Icarus, Athena, Phoebe and Aquila—for their work on the blog. I could never have kept up TMTF without you. Thanks, guys. Don’t ever buy fireworks again, okay?

Thanks to my parents for proofreading many of my posts, and special thanks to my old man for providing TMTF’s artwork. You guys are fabulous.

Thanks to the bloggers who have written guest posts for TMTF, and to my younger bro for allowing me to feature his drawings. I’ve been honored to share your work.

Thanks to God, whose love, grace and kindness are rocking awesome.

Finally, thanks to the readers and followers of this blog! Your likes and comments are so much appreciated. There is no greater honor for a writer than having his work read.

We’ll be back!

98. Just Try to Relax

The past month has been pretty hectic.

Four weeks ago, I began packing my worldly goods and possessions for the five thousand-mile journey from Montevideo to Fort Wayne.

Three weeks ago, I arrived at my brother and sister-in-law’s home in Indiana, burdened with several suitcases and a dozen typewriter monkeys.

Since then, I’ve learned to drive, purchased a car, failed a driver’s test, done some author stuff, worked on my blogs, applied for jobs and busied myself with dozens of miscellaneous tasks, responsibilities, errands, duties, obligations, commitments and chores.

Until a few days ago, I kept myself almost constantly busy. I refused to give myself much time to relax. I told myself I didn’t need to rest, but to get everything done. When I had fulfilled my obligations—all of them—I could consider taking some time off.

Then, earlier this week, I stopped functioning.

I was paralyzed mentally, exhausted emotionally and tired physically. I couldn’t stay focused.

I had broken down.

At last, unable to work, I retreated to my bedroom with a cup of tea and a video game. For several hours, I set aside my self-imposed obligations and relaxed—and it was awesome.

That long rest was calming, refreshing and fun. Hour by hour, I could feel myself regaining my composure and focus.

I’ve attempted to cope with the stress and difficulty of the past few weeks by acting busy, trying to persuade myself that everything was under my control.

Everything is not under my control. That’s the bad news.

The good news is that everything is under God’s control.

He commands us to rest. It’s even one of the Ten Commandments: “Remember the Sabbath day by keeping it holy. Six days you shall labor and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God. On it you shall not do any work.”

We honor the Sabbath day by resting—trusting God to work things out instead of exhausting ourselves trying to keep everything under control.

The Lord Jesus himself said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

It is now my intention to drink some tea and play a video game.

94. For When the World Seems Dark

In the centuries since the invention of the printing press, Christians everywhere have perfected the fine art of writing in their Bibles.

Some readers of Scripture create complex systems involving symbols or different colors of highlighter markers. Others cram notes, observations and questions into the margins.

I write in my Bible, though my notations are pretty simple. A couple of years ago, for example, I labeled the psalms in order to keep track of them. I came upon the seventy-seventh psalm a few days ago. Its label intrigued me.

For when the world seems dark

The psalm begins: I cried out to God for help; I cried out to God to hear me. When I was in distress, I sought the Lord; at night I stretched out untiring hands and my soul refused to be comforted.

Well, that’s cheerful.

Moving forward a few verses: Will the Lord reject forever? Will he never show his favor again? Has his unfailing love vanished forever? Has his promise failed for all time? Has God forgotten to be merciful? Has he in anger withheld his compassion?

What a bright, happy psalm this is turning out to be.

As I read the first few verses, I was wondered why I’d given Psalm 77 a title like For when the world seems dark. When the world seems dark, I want it to seem lighter—not more depressing!

Then the theme of the psalm takes an abrupt turn: I will remember the deeds of the Lord; yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago. I will meditate on all your works and consider all your mighty deeds.

The psalmist goes on to describe one of God’s great miracles, and ends with these words: You led your people like a flock by the hand of Moses and Aaron.

Some great Christian thinker (I don’t remember which) once wrote, “Do not forget in the darkness what you have learned in the light.”

The psalmist didn’t forget. When God seemed far away, he paused to remember two things: the great deeds God had done, and the great love God had shown.

Psalm 77 came at a good time. At the moment, I’m under some emotional strain. Leaving loved ones, adjusting to a new place, facing an uncertain future—these things are hard. It’s easy to lose perspective and become lost in depression, anxiety or fear.

It’s at times like these that I must stop and remind myself of two things: the great deeds God has done for me, and the great love he’s shown toward me.

I remember those scholarships that allowed me to graduate from Bethel College. I remember how, when I was depressed during my third semester, I enjoyed the much-needed blessing of a long, solitary Thanksgiving break spent writing, watching Disney movies and playing Final Fantasy VII. I remember the glorious evenings spent watching Avatar: The Last Airbender and drinking tea with my friends from college. I remember all those mornings my old man brought me coffee in bed, and all those times my mum told me, “You’re a treasure.”

I remember how often God has made things right.

When the world seems dark, remember what you’ve learned in the light.

87. Keeping Pace

I’ve never been physically fit, but I came close during my senior year of high school. Those were the days I spent in the class of Mr. Socrates, a Physical Education teacher of whose legendary exploits I’ve already written.

Mr. Socrates made every one of his classes run a mile to warm up. This was in the Andes, remember, at an elevation of more than nine thousand feet. Running a mile at a high altitude is tough. After his students had finished the mile, they began whatever activity he had planned for the day.

I hated that mile.

I always had a strong start, passing most of the other students while running the first lap around the soccer field. Then I realized I had five laps left to run, and gradually slowed to a walk.

I was always one of the last to finish the mile.

Perhaps, I mused at last, Aesop’s fable about the tortoise and the hare may have some truth in it. Instead of running the first lap, I jogged. Pretty soon I was jogging all six laps and sprinting the final stretch. After a few months, I finished the mile in less than six and a half minutes—a laughable time for an athlete, but not bad for a bookish student.

I learned to keep the pace. Slow and steady is better than quick and sporadic. It was discouraging to be passed by almost every other runner on the first lap, but I finished the final lap ahead of many of them.

I think we sometimes approach things the way I approached the mile. We throw ourselves into things, wear ourselves out and quit.

My catalysts for personal growth haven’t been emotional experiences. Emotions wear off quickly. The biggest advances have been when I’ve learned something and applied it consistently to my life. I haven’t changed overnight, but a little at a time.

If you experience a rush of spiritual fervor at a church revival, or feel a burst of enthusiasm as you finish the first chapter of your novel, or plunge into some other endeavor with wild optimism, don’t take things too quickly. Set realistic goals, and stick to them. When you’ve mastered one step, move on to the next.

A slow, permanent change is infinitely better than an instantaneous, temporary one.

Keep the pace.

86. The Turnspike Emails: Misleading Church Leaders

TMTF solemnly presents another hellish look at life from a demon’s perspective. This is an email intercepted from the demon Turnspike to his colleague Goreflak; a previous email from Turnspike and TMTF’s commentary thereupon can be found here.

My Dear Goreflak,

I am curious, my dear devil, as to whether you can do anything without making a mess of it.

Your Patient has joined the leadership committee of his church. I am revolted by your attempts to excuse your mistake by claiming it is “not a serious problem” because your Patient “had been attending church anyway.” It is a very serious problem.

Whereas before your Patient sat harmlessly in a church pew and dozed through sermons, he is now seizing opportunities to work against us. Your Patient was previously a parasite, benefiting from his church and contributing nothing to it. He is now a dangerous enemy.

What we want is a world full of Christians who are contented to do as little as possible—but that is another topic for another email. At present, I must restrain myself to addressing your current blunder.

In dealing with your Patient and his newfound role as a church leader, you have two great tools.

First is lack of perspective. Followers of our Enemy—even those who are far advanced in his service—can become so blinded by the day-to-day minutiae of their lives that they overlook things a child could see.

For example, church leaders, if we put them in the right frame of mind, will devote thousands of dollars to a new carpet (which the church does not really need) without even pausing to consider whether missionaries, who serve our Enemy all over the world, might need funds for living more than the church needs a change of furnishings.

Let us consider an example on a grander scale. A prosperous church builds a gymnasium, where its younger members play games once a week. For the same amount of money, five churches could be built in a poorer country or hundreds of children treated for disease or thousands of Bibles given away. Such uses of the Enemy’s money would have devastating consequences—but, fortunately for us, the money goes to a building that stands empty all but a few hours every week, and our work continues unhindered.

When your Patient is entrusted with church money, let it never occur to him that poorer churches may need a new roof more than his own church needs a new sound system. Our ultimate goal in dealing with church leaders is to equip them with spiritual blinders, rendering them oblivious to the needs of any churches but their own.

The second tool you have in dealing with your Patient is pride. Millennia of study by our best researchers have not uncovered any sin more useful for destroying the Enemy’s workers. Let but a seed of pride be planted in your Patient’s heart, and you will have him doing whatever you please.

A common mistake among inexperienced devils (such as yourself) is to assume pride can only be applied to a person. Pride can be applied to anything. You need not make your Patient believe he is better than everyone else. It is enough to make him believe his ideas are better than everyone else’s ideas.

Of course, for all I know, his ideas might be. That does not matter. What matters is that your Patient believes his ideas, opinions and plans are infallible, and that anyone who disagrees with him must be either ignorant or willfully foolish.

Should your Patient begin to suspect that he is being guilty of pride, remind him that he is not exaggerating his own reputation. Make him think he is merely standing up for ideas that are sensible, correct and useful. Never let him suspect that sinful pride can apply to his own ideas as readily as it applies to your Patient himself.

So much of the strife we have sown among the Enemy’s people is rooted in pride. We convince many Christians that their way of thinking, and only their way of thinking, is correct.

When we get the followers of our Enemy to make outrageous, opinionated statements in the name of Jesus, we have won.

Our Enemy himself advocates humility. He commands his followers to listen to each other, to seek to understand each other and to accept each other in spite of disagreements.

In the case of your Patient, make sure that does not happen.

Do not think, my dear devil, that I will overlook your blunder in allowing your Patient to become actively involved in his church. I have already referred you to the secret police, the high caste of demons devoted to straightening out incompetent devils such as yourself. You may expect a visit from them any day now.

Your affectionate colleague,

Turnspike