341. Mole End

Posted on February 23, 2015 by Adam Stück

If you ever happen to visit my apartment, you will be greeted by a wooden sign immediately upon stepping inside. It depicts a well-dressed mole drinking coffee and reading a book, along with two welcoming words: Mole End.

I love the way the mole’s glasses are perched delicately on the end of his snout.

My dad, God bless him, crafted this sign for me many years ago. Although he’s known round these parts for his superb drawings of monkeys, my old man is perfectly capable of drawing other small mammals!

The sign is made of driftwood from an Ecuadorian beach. (The sign fell from the wall a few weeks ago, scattering sand from its deepest crevices all over my floor. I was oddly touched to find my small-town Indiana apartment suddenly dusted with sand from my faraway homeland.) My old man sketched the picture on an ordinary piece of paper, glued it to the driftwood, aged it with cold tea, and applied a layer of finish.

When I moved into my apartment two and a half years ago, I immediately christened it Mole End and put up the sign shortly thereafter. Now, you may wonder why I chose this name for an apartment in a quiet, out-of-the-way corner of Indiana. You wouldn’t be the first!

Some time ago, I was honored to receive a visit from Thomas Mark Zuniga. This wise, wandering blogger had written for my blog. I had written for his, and also reviewed his debut book. It was quite a privilege finally to meet the man (and his splendid beard) in person.

Someday, if I am very lucky, I will have a beard half as nice as Tom’s.

Upon entering Mole End, Tom asked about the sign. It took me a moment to stammer out a reply: “Have you ever read The Wind in the Willows?”

For those who haven’t read this enchanting book, The Wind in the Willows is the tale of several animals in the old-timey English countryside. One of these creatures, Mole, reminds me strongly of myself: neat, anxious, insecure, quick to blame himself, and a devoted homebody. In a few other ways, I’m rather like a mole: I’m an introvert, keeping away from social events and enjoying my safe, cozy, solitary burrow.

Mole loves his subterranean home, Mole End, yet leaves it early on in search of fresh experiences. It’s only later in the book, as he chats with a Badger, that Mole remembers how much he enjoys life underground.

“Once well underground,” he said, “you know exactly where you are. Nothing can happen to you, and nothing can get at you. You’re entirely your own master, and you don’t have to consult anybody or mind what they say. Things go on all the same overheard, and you let ’em, and don’t bother about ’em. When you want to, up you go, and there the things are, waiting for you.”

That, dear reader, is why I call my apartment Mole End.

Mole later returns to Mole End in a chapter aptly titled “Dulce Domum,” Latin for sweet home. He is overwhelmed to the point of tears. Mole End is all the sweeter because Mole abandoned it for a while, like the man in the book by G.K. Chesterton who left his house and walked around the world simply for the joy of coming home again.

I love my home—not my Indiana apartment, specifically, but the place I feel secure, comfortable, and relaxed. My home isn’t permanent. There’s a reason the Bible refers to our bodies as a “tent” instead of a house. Quoth the Apostle Paul, “For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven.”

We are all foreigners and strangers on earth. Some of us are searching for a better country—a heavenly one. My apartment in Indiana may be the closest thing to home I shall ever find on earth. I don’t know how long I’ll stay. In the future, I may have many homes… but I will only ever have one Mole End.

Of course, Mole End’s size, appearance, and layout may change occasionally. Its location may vary. Mole End may be found, at various times, in different cities, countries, and continents.

As long as I have the promise of a heavenly home—and the sign, of course—I’ll carry Mole End with me.

340. TMTF’s Top Ten Things Learned in Ten Years of Animation

Posted on February 20, 2015 by Adam Stück

Today’s post was written by JK Riki: animator, blogger, and creator of Fred the Monkey, who is probably a bad influence on my typewriter monkeys. All the same, Typewriter Monkey Task Force is honored to share JK’s reflections on what he’s learned from ten years as an animator. For more great stuff from JK, check out his blog and Twitter. You may also want to swing by Animator Island, for which he writes.

After I sent my first guest post to Adam, he responded positively: “It’s good stuff.” Two sentences later came a spirit-crushing qualification: he was more interested in my creative process, particularly from the class of “animator” in which I dwell.

“Surely you can do better than this last, terrible post,” he noted in his email, though it may have actually been written, “I think your thoughts on the creative process may be even more valuable.” (I can read between the lines, you see. I know what he meant.)

[Editor’s note: What I, Adam, really meant was, “I think your thoughts on the creative process may be even more valuable, and I could really use a cup of coffee.” That last part is subtext to nearly everything I say or write, so I left it out.]

So fine, I’ll set aside my deeper thoughts on philosophy and the universe and give the audience what it wants. Plus I’ll do it in a time-honored tradition of TMTF: a top ten list!

That said, please consider…

The Top Ten Things I’ve Learned From Ten Years as an Animator!

10. Mediocre entertainment > unrealized genius

I can’t tell you the amount of time I’ve wasted waiting to get “good enough” to do certain projects. “This is a brilliant idea,” I’ve thought, “but I really need to up my skill level to pull it off properly. Back you go into the Sack of Potential Greatness!”

Poor Sack. It’s been bursting at the seams for years now.

The truth is, a brilliant idea unrealized is pointless. Isn’t an inferior version that exists better than a wasted concept that, let’s face it, will never be made? Honestly, it’s unlikely you’ll ever be “good enough.” You’ll never reach that standard. It’s not worth the wait; go do it now. Save perfection for the next life!

Even the best animations start as rough, quick sketches!

That said, 10b. Always strive to do better!

9. Enthusiasm fades

Animation is a brilliant form of art for one unique reason: It takes forever. Because it takes forever, you have millions of opportunities to tweak things or change directions or quit and become an accountant. When you work on a single piece of art that takes weeks, months, or years for what seems like very little return, at some point you question what you’re doing.

The thing that divides the people who have done great animation (or really, anything at all) from those who only wish they could is pushing past this doldrum and pressing on, enthusiasm or no enthusiasm. Those days happen, and it’s up to you to not let them string together day after day, week after week.

8. Animation is hard

It does not take much physical effort to drag a wooden stick affixed with graphite across compressed tree pulp. It doesn’t even take much physical effort to do that billions of times so you can photograph them in sequence and watch the lines dance across a screen.

Despite the lack of physical energy required, animation is so, so hard.

JK's inner animator expresses the difficulties of the craft in the most eloquent way possible: shaking a sharp, pointy object.

JK’s inner animator eloquently expresses the difficulties of his craft.

People are used to watching movement. When you’re attempting to mimic that movement they know so well with pencil or 3D model, your audience are all experts. If you make a mistake, they’ll know about it, because it doesn’t match the decades of real-world experience they have with movement.

At the same time…

7. People are forgiving

In animation, you cheat. A lot. One of my favorite descriptions of animation is from Pixar director Peter Docter, who said “Animation is life with the volume turned up.”

As animators, we’re called to go beyond reality and create things that “look right.” Sometimes, in order to get something to look right, you have to throw all the rules out the window and make things up. The wonderful thing about this process is that people will accept your made up nonsense if it looks right. They’ll forgive your strange motion blurs and broken joints just as long as it feels the way it should. It’s because of this that…

6. Mistakes aren’t as huge as you think

One of the greatest moments in animation is when you finish roughing out a shot and you hate it with every fiber of your being. You look at the individual drawings and think “This is garbage. I should quit and become an accountant!” Then you play it in real time and oh! The beauty! The majesty! The countless hours were worth it, and for reasons unknown it works. There is reason to live again!

Life is long, and it’s a process. The mistakes of a “single frame” that seem overwhelming at the time may just work in unison with the images around it and turn out beautifully. Then the key becomes remembering that even the close-up errors really aren’t as dooming as they seem.

5. Things change

Fred the Monkey sure has changed over the years!

Fred the Monkey affirms that yes, things sure change!

If you aren’t growing as a person, you’re doing life wrong. We’re here to grow, to learn, and to become better every day. Knowing this, one should expect to change over time. When we expect this change to happen, we can better deal with the feelings of “failure” when it arrives. I once kicked myself for failing to keep FredtheMonkey.com updated consistently. Wait, to be fair, I kicked myself for that dozens of times.

The longer I live, the more I see that the goals I set at twenty-two are not the goals I have today. As the Bible says in Ecclesiastes, “There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens: A time to make Flash cartoons about monkeys, and a time to focus on family life and remodeling a house.” (Paraphrasing here a bit, so go look up the full non-cartoon-including list in Ecc. 3.)

Things change; it’s part of life. When we know this, we can…

4. Manage expectations to find happiness

Consider this scenario. You decide to go see a film this weekend. You’ve seen a trailer, and it looks absolutely terrible, but a friend/family/cute member of the opposite sex really wants to go, so you oblige. After two hours in the theater, the film turns out to be pretty average, but certainly not completely awful, and you realize, “Hey, that wasn’t as bad as I thought!”

Using the power of hypothetical situations, let’s go back in time. (Time travel is fun!) This time, a friend has told you about the film and how it’s the most incredible work of movie making ever crafted by human hands. Your heart beats quicker as the previews rush by and finally the film begins. Your hands grip the plastic theater chair arms in anticipation. Your knees tremble in spite of your feet being glued to the floor by soda and popcorn grease. This is it!

And… it’s decidedly average.

Now what? Chances are you’re going to walk out of the theater this time grumbling, “That wasn’t amazing at all, what were they thinking? I counted a dozen plot holes and the main character was an idiot. What a waste of two hours….”

What’s the difference here? Spoiler alert: It’s not the film, it’s your expectations.

It’s easy to be disappointed when your expectations aren’t realistic!

Over ten years of animating, I’ve had many expectations. Some cartoons I knew were great, and would do so well on Newgrounds.com. They flopped. Some animations were rushed and I almost didn’t release them because they weren’t ready (see point #10, though). Reviews were glowing, and they made front page. Lol, what?

I’ve learned (and continue to learn) to manage expectations. There’s nothing wrong with hope, or wanting things to be wonderful. There’s a big difference between hoping for good things and expecting them. If you manage the expectation part, life goes so, so much better.

3. Edit well

Cut out all things you don’t need in order to make your point or tell your story.

[Author’s note: I’m still learning this one, because Adam had to edit this post for clarity and to remove most of my ramblings. The original was 518 words longer in total. Clearly there’s still work for me to do regarding Lesson #3.]

2. There is nothing like doing what you love

I have held several jobs in my life, ranging from things I’ve enjoyed to “I’d really rather be having teeth pulled, thank you.” For me, animation is a passion. It goes beyond enjoyment to a very strange place that shares borders with the lands of “Obsession” and “Madness.”

Someone once asked me if animation was fun. I thought about it for a moment and then said “No, not at all.” At the time I was surprised by my response, but if I could go back in time, I’d add, “I can’t imagine not doing it, though.”

I love animation. It is one of the things I think I was put on this Earth to do. As a result, no matter how difficult it becomes (see #8), I am filled with joy when I’m engrossed in it. It’s not about “having fun” as much as it is “bathing in the joy of purpose and meaning.” Do what you love and life becomes awe-inspiring every dang day.

1. Understanding the why is the most important thing

We devalue the why in our world today. We’ve gotten so caught up in the who, what, when, and where that we’ve forgotten all about the final W of the Big 5. It’s rather ironic, actually, because when something big (often tragic) happens our first reaction is “Why is this happening?!”

In animation, you must understand the why. Why is this character doing what he’s doing? Why is this prop in the scene? Why didn’t I go to school to become an accountant?

Life is the same way.

When I started FredtheMonkey.com more than a decade ago, I had conflicting dreams for it. On the one hand, I wanted to make the world a better place by producing funny cartoons that brightened someone’s day.

At the same time, I wanted HomestarRunner-level success. If I could just reach that level of popularity, boy, I could sure make this planet a better place. I could change people, convince them of things, and have influence. No doubt the money I’d make could help millions as well. Yes, that would be the day it all came together!

The further I unconsciously veered towards the second why during those ten years of animating poor-quality Flash cartoons, the more miserable I was. The more it was work, instead of joy. The more I didn’t want to keep doing it. I had lost the purpose that drove my initial creative process. I burned out a lot.

Each time I remembered my mantra of “If I make one person’s life better with this cartoon, it will have been worth it,” the peace and love of what I was doing came rushing back. I had to constantly stave off the allure of fame and wealth so I could be content with whatever came from my efforts.

And that contentment was far better than anything I’ve ever gained materialistically. Know the why of what you do, and remind yourself of it always.

I hope that these lessons I’ve learned can be of some help to someone out there. If it gives hope or inspiration to a single person, the decade of struggles will be worth every effort.

339. I Talk Too Much

Posted on February 16, 2015 by Adam Stück

Update: I just realized that I’ve already written a post about wasting words. Do you see what I mean? I really do talk too much!

Besides death or divine intervention, nothing in the universe can stop me once I start rambling.

I was reminded of this a few days ago. At the time, I was explaining to coworkers how a gerund looks remarkably like a chicken when diagrammed in a sentence. (This fact was pointed out to me by a college professor.) The English language fascinates me, and I’m greatly amused by this quirk of sentence diagramming. I was enthusiastic in sharing my amusement with my coworkers.

My gerund-chicken was met with one or two blank faces, and I realized I was babbling. It probably wasn’t the first time that day. Ah, well. No harm, no fowl. (Pun intended. I’m so, so sorry.)

I ramble all the time, and most people aren’t blunt or brave enough to ask me to stop. A few politely change the subject. Many suffer in silence. If I may, for the sake of illustration, borrow and edit a couple of old comic panels from Gigi D.G. of Cucumber Quest fame: many of my conversations go something like this.

The greatest difference between this illustration and real life is that I hardly ever chat with one-eyed war veterans.

I’m exaggerating a bit for comedic effect, yet the truth is that I talk too much. As an introvert, I generally keep to myself around other people. However, the very second a conversation turns to something that interests me, I begin to talk… and eventually to babble.

One of the things that troubles me most about my lamentable loquacity is that it afflicts my nearest and dearest. Most of the people who meet me will never hear me ramble. It’s my family and friends (along with a few coworkers and acquaintances) who put up with my enthusiastic floods of words. It’s when I feel comfortable around someone that I let down my guard, and when my guard is down that I talk too much.

That said, you should take it as a compliment if I ramble at you… I guess?

Anyhowz, I have three points to make about my tendency to talk too much.

1. Writing is awesome because it allows me to moderate my own words.

Probably my favorite thing about writing is the freedom it gives me to find exactly the right words and phrase them precisely the way I want. Written words can be revised. If I begin to ramble in, say, a Facebook message, I can go back and cut out the fluff.

Speaking doesn’t give me that luxury. It represents immediate, irrevocable communication. There is no revising spoken words, except by speaking more. Once a word is spoken, it can’t be deleted. I wish I could revise and moderate my speaking the way I do my writing.

2. Rambling is selfish.

When I ramble about stuff that matters to me, I forget—or worse, ignore—that it might not matter to other people. I disrespect people by demanding their time and attention, airing my own views and opinions, when they’re not interested. Worse, I don’t spend enough time listening to them.

Talking too much is a way of saying, “I don’t care enough about you to listen.”

3. The Bible says some pretty harsh things about talking too much.

In the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus Christ says, “I tell you that everyone will have to give account on the day of judgment for every empty word they have spoken.For by your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned.”

Yikes.

The Proverbs add quite a few cautions against babbling. “When words are many, sin is not absent, but he who holds his tongue is wise,” quoth the author of Proverbs, and later adds, “Even fools are thought wise if they keep silent, and discerning if they hold their tongues.”

I… suppose I’ll end here, actually. Heaven knows I don’t want to ramble.

328. The Post of Resolutions Past

Posted on December 26, 2014 by Adam Stück

Christmas is over, but this is no time for gloom! A new year is nearly here! We must face 2015 with hope, caffeine, and courage. After all, the start of each new year is an opportunity for self-reflection and self-improvement… or despair and apathy, if you’re a pessimist. It’s also a time for reminiscence, celebration, and setting stuff on fire.

Well, I suppose that last one only applies in Ecuador, where effigies are burned in the streets on New Year’s Eve. Every December I remember this tradition fondly, and then make new year’s resolutions instead. I would be arrested for arson if I built a bonfire on the streets of my quiet Indiana town.

Oh, Ecuador, how I miss you. Your traditions an inspiration, like a beacon burning brightly—a blazing beacon doused in kerosene and likely to burn down entire city blocks.

Before I list my resolutions for the new year, I should take a few moments to review my goals for the old one. After all, what good are resolutions if I don’t try to keep them?

These were my resolutions for 2014.

I will value variety.

I enjoyed some new things this year, from culinary surprises (who knew fresh spinach made such a good salad?) to gaming discoveries (Metal Gear Solid is pretty rad). However, for the most part, I stuck to familiar comforts. I must consider this resolution a failure.

I will live with confidence.

Much to my own surprise, I kept this resolution. I’m still an anxious person, but I’m learning to ~~have~~ fake greater confidence in myself.

I will be a people person.

I… sort of kept this one, I guess? I didn’t go out of my way to meet people, but I made a couple of new friends and did a slightly better job of keeping in touch with old ones.

I will keep up with this lousy blog.

This resolution was mostly successful. TMTF took a few breaks, but I’m pretty sure it was more consistent this year than before. If it wasn’t, blame my typewriter monkeys. Always blame my typewriter monkeys. (I need that slogan on a T-shirt.)

I will drink tea and coffee while they’re still hot.

I nailed this one.

I will be consistent and faithful in fulfilling my spiritual commitments.

I didn’t spend as much time praying and reading the Bible this year as in years past, but I was also busier this year with work, blogging, and other commitments. Although the quantity of time spent with God was less, I think its quality was improved; I’m getting better at reflecting on Scripture and praying prayers that aren’t completely awful. Let’s call this one a draw.

I have half a dozen new resolutions lined up for next year… but that’s for the next post on this blog.

Speaking of the blog, this was an interesting year for TMTF. I revamped its reviews, embraced the Oxford comma, turned into the Hulk, had an insightful discussion (in an animated video!) with a well-dressed wolf, and reviewed all those Metal Gear Solid games. In fact, I played even more of those games than I reviewed. I may declare 2014 the Year of Metal Gear Solid… or Metal Year Solid for short. (I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.)

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go daydream about setting fire to stuff in the streets.

Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, please check out TMTF’s charity fundraisers this month and make the new year awesome for a person in need!

327. Thoughts on Christmas

Posted on December 22, 2014 by Adam Stück

As we draw near Christmas, I’m surrounded by colored lights, holiday decorations, snow flurries, advertisements, and peppermint-flavored things. I’ve wrapped gifts, played Christmas music, grumbled about the cold, drunk too much coffee, and fled in horror from the tawdry inflatable snowmen standing, smiling and sinister, on the front lawns of neighborhood homes. (Those things are evil, man.)

The horror! The horror!

I’ve thought a lot about Christmas this year, but none of my thoughts are substantial enough to deserve their own posts on this blog. Thus I’ve decided to throw all of my Christmas musings into a single post. Here we go!

I’m becoming less cynical about the holidays.

A few years ago, I wrote a blog post in which I grumbled about the frivolity of the Christmas season:

I have mixed feelings about Christmas. I enjoy the traditions, the nostalgia, the delicious food, the beautiful lights, the exciting gifts and some of the music. I despise the unapologetic, matter-of-fact way companies use the holiday to make money. I’m also pained by the growing superficiality of Christmas. The birth of Christ has become an afterthought.

Nietzsche informed us that God is dead. I disagree, but suspect Christmas might be dying—slowly passing away in a blaze of colored lights and cacophony of seasonal music.

I’m still a cynical grump about the Christmas season—in fact, I’m grumpy and cynical about a lot of things—but my attitude toward Christmas has softened over the past year or two.

Christmas is a time of peace and goodwill even among nonreligious people. It’s a time for reminiscence, family, forgiveness, generosity, and eating lots of cookies. Apart from the holiday’s spiritual significance, many of its secular aspects are beautiful, good, and meaningful.

I certainly don’t consider the secular aspects of Christmas equal to its spiritual ones. For all its warm feelings and bright colors, Christmas is pretty empty without Christ. I cherish the fun traditions of Christmas because of the hope underlying them.

All the same, I’m learning to respect that Christmas has value even as a secular holiday, and I should sometimes keep my sneers and cries of “Humbug!” to myself.

A lot of Christmas music is really stupid.

Amy Green, a phenomenal blogger and aspiring heretic, has already discussed lousy Christmas songs. I will add only one observation. There are sane human beings who enjoy songs like “Here Comes Santa Claus,” “Frosty the Snowman,” and “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer,” and this fact is an appalling indictment of the human race.

Nobody ever seems to remember the historical context of Christmas.

We all know Christmas celebrates the birth of Christ. We’re familiar with the characters and set pieces of the Nativity: the inn, shepherds, angels, and all the rest. What we forget is that Christ’s birth was an event in history. It didn’t have a simple beginning or a neat happily-ever-after ending.

Christmas began in ancient Israel. Prophets hinted vaguely at the arrival of the Messiah, God’s chosen hero, and then prophecies ceased. God’s people were scattered and exiled. For centuries, the descendants of Israel watched empires rise and fall around them, and waited—probably without much hope—for their Messiah.

Jesus Christ was born into a remote corner of the vast Roman empire. He wasn’t the hero anyone expected or wanted. In fact, he baffled everyone, including his own parents, his followers, and the authorities who eventually sentenced him to death. Christ lived, died, and was raised to life by the power of God. He became the founder of a new faith, which has rocked the world for two millennia.

That’s what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown.

We think of Christmas as merely the Nativity, and that’s a shame. The broader historical context and religious significance of Christ’s birth are fascinating.

Arthur Christmas is the best Christmas movie I’ve ever seen.

Seriously, go watch it.

Time is running out for TMTF’s Christmas fundraisers!

The Living Water fundraiser will run for a couple of months after Christmas, but I’d love to hit its goal by the end of December. The Child’s Play fundraiser will conclude at the end of the month, so time is running out!

If you’re not sure why I’m blathering about fundraisers, please see here for details.

Working together, we can make this Christmas truly awesome for people in need. Please consider giving!

We wish you a happy Christmas!

My typewriter monkeys and I—well, mostly I—wish you the best of all possible Christmases, and a bright start to the new year!

Everything Is Meaningless

Posted on November 19, 2014 by Adam Stück

“Meaningless! Meaningless!” says the Teacher. “Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!”

Ecclesiastes 1:2

My devotional reading lately has taken me to Ecclesiastes. It has comforted me to revisit one of the Bible’s least comforting books, which is also one of my favorites.

Ecclesiastes is not a cheerful book. It’s certainly not a popular one. (Every time I walk into a church or Christian bookstore and see decorations inscribed with inspirational verses, I look for quotations from the Teacher. I never find any.) The main points of Ecclesiastes are basically that we will die, we won’t accomplish much of lasting significance, and we may as well resign ourselves to it.

I’ve already shared some thoughts on Ecclesiastes, so I won’t add much here. The book is beautifully poetic and brutally honest. I suppose that’s why I love it. Ecclesiastes asks big questions about life, the universe, and everything. It offers no false optimism. The Teacher finds few answers. In the end, he confesses his failures to understand and points his readers toward the God who understands everything.

Christians sometimes give the impression that Christianity solves everything, answers all questions, and leaves no room for struggles. Ecclesiastes admits that it just ain’t so. The Teacher lived in a world like ours—a world that often doesn’t seem to make sense. It’s comforting to know I’m not the only person who sees it that way.

304. Leviticus Is Really Bloody

Posted on September 22, 2014 by Adam Stück

Of all the books in the Old Testament, Leviticus has a reputation for being tedious. What nobody seems to remember is that it’s also really, really gory.

The Holy Bible: Rated M for intense violence, blood and gore, and sexual content.

I’ve been revisiting Leviticus lately, and it’s a grim read. Among the dull regulations for religious rituals are rules for sacrifices, which involve slaughtering livestock, cutting them into pieces, burning them, and splattering their blood in all kinds of interesting and unexpected places.

I often picture places of worship in the Old Testament as peaceful, churchlike sanctuaries smelling of incense, where immaculately-dressed priests walk quietly and speak in whispers.

Examining what Scripture actually says gives quite a different picture.

Livestock were killed for a wide variety of offerings, and the priests did at least some of the slaughtering. I sometimes think of Old Testament priests as pastors, but they seem more like butchers. Israel’s places of worship were likely deafening with the frantic bleats of dying animals, pervaded by the smell of burning meat, and speckled with dried blood.

Revisiting Leviticus, and reading the Bible generally, challenges my faith. Christian culture hardly ever mentions, let alone dwells upon, the nastier bits of the Bible—and dang, the Bible sure can be nasty. It’s nicer to think about the Sermon on the Mount, or the Christmas story, or the pleasanter Psalms.

We so often have preconceived ideas of what’s in the Bible without ever taking a look, or bothering to think about what we find.

Do any of the Sunday school teachers who put up cutesy pictures of Noah’s Ark remember that the Flood drowned nearly every person on earth? Do any of the people who share inspirational verses from Job recall how his life was shattered, his health was broken, and his children were crushed to death? Anybody?

Leviticus troubles me. Yes, I know that “without the shedding of blood there is no forgiveness.” It costs something. In the end, forgiving us cost God everything in the death of Jesus Christ. I get that. All the same, I’m bothered by the thought of God commanding the incessant, daily slaughter of helpless animals as a form of worship.

These challenging chapters in Leviticus remind me that lot of things in Scripture trouble me, and some surprise me—and many give me unexpected comfort, peace, and hope. The Bible often refuses to match up to my expectations or the impressions some churches give of it.

The Bible is a book not to be judged by its cover, nor by incomplete impressions. Especially for those who call it God’s Word, the Bible is worth reading: even the tedious, boring, and bloody bits.

I suppose that includes Leviticus.

The Spirit Temple?

Posted on September 17, 2014 by Adam Stück

Very few readers will understand this comic, and that’s perfectly fine. I thought it was far too funny not to share.

If you don’t get the joke, there are two things you must do. First, you should read the Bible, which is the greatest book ever written. Second, you should play The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, which is basically the video game equivalent of the Bible.

Incidentally, always thought it was odd that the dungeons in Ocarina of Time were called temples. I mean, were they meant to be places of worship? If so, what deities were worshiped? Why are their temples full of monsters and death traps? What kind of eccentric deities would want such lousy temples? Am I overthinking things?

So many questions.

299. I Am Not Batman

Posted on September 5, 2014 by Adam Stück

Yes, I know this may come as a shock to some of my readers. Some may have been so sure that I am secretly the Caped Crusader: the legendary vigilante who dresses as a bat for some reason. It is not so.

I am not Batman.

All the same, I sometimes hold myself to impossibly high, Batman-esque standards. I also have Batman Syndrome, obsessing over my failures and allowing little mistakes to cancel out great successes. I demand much of myself. I have to be productive. I have to get stuff done.

I forget that I’m not Batman. He may be the pinnacle of human strength, will, and intelligence, but I am not. I’m a guy who needs sleep, gets sick, and needs a day off now and then.

A few days ago, I was reading the latest post from an animator’s blog. Something he said struck a chord with me.

And tomorrow I’m taking the day off from everything and not working on anything . . . It’s been a long time since I took a day completely off, so it’s due. We need downtime. Our society doesn’t like that because we’re not being productive members of society when we don’t do anything, but if we’re always on 24/7, we burn out.

This man has clearly learned a valuable lesson. He understands that he is not Batman. No ordinary person can be on the go all the time, working constantly, never taking a break, expecting nothing less than absolute effort. Normal, non-Batman human beings need days to take naps, read a book, or play Mario Kart. Without those days, we break down. It’s not weakness or self-indulgence to relax occasionally. It’s a necessity.

I’m often busy even when I don’t have to be. More often than I care to admit, I wear myself out working on things that aren’t urgent—things that can wait until I’ve had a cup of tea, a walk to the park, or a good night’s rest. I get so accustomed to being busy that I feel guilty or panicked if I spend too long without doing something “productive.”

There’s something in the Old Testament about taking a day off every week: the Sabbath day. I usually file it away with all those rules about burnt offerings and unclean foods as a religious law that has become obsolete. I’m no longer so sure. Besides being healthy and sensible, taking days off seems like an affirmation of faith—a way of saying, “I trust God enough to give him today.”

Sometimes, determination and coffee aren’t enough: “Man shall not live by caffeine alone,” or something like that. I am not Batman, and I sometimes need a break.

Unless you’re Batman—I’m guessing you’re probably not—you may sometimes need a break, too. Don’t be afraid to take one!

Video Game Gospel Music

Posted on August 27, 2014 by Adam Stück

I’m no stranger to offbeat versions of the Lord’s Prayer, and I’ve heard plenty of a cappella video game music, but… whoa. I mean, whoa.

“Baba Yetu” is the theme of Civilization IV, a game I’ve never played in a series that has never interested me. I first heard this song when my older brother, who is definitely not a gamer, had me listen to it a few years ago.

The song is the Lord’s Prayer in Swahili, and it’s beautiful. This arrangement by Peter Hollens and Malukah, a couple of YouTube musicians, is fantastic. “Baba Yetu” made history a few years ago by being the first song written for a video game to win a Grammy.

I’ve heard enough 8-bit chiptunes and earsplitting dubstep in video games. What they need is more lovely gospel music!

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