Saturdays this time of year are filled with grass to be cut, gardens to be hoed, races to be run, balls to be thrown, breakfasts to be eaten, grills to be started. I love all of those things. I’m reminded of the joys of summer vacation, really, when we have a great Saturday. I don’t know how my parents ever got anything done on those days – It really is tough. But totally worth it!

So, it’s not so bad when your two-year-old starts climbing into the bed with you in the middle of the night.

But yeah, it’s pretty bad when he starts tickling you in the middle of the night.

Or an advert, if you’re British. But, chances are that you aren’t. So there.

Sometimes it really does feel like everything is an ad. I listen to the radio, and beyond the obvious ads, the DJs are talking about their favorite products (Tivo! Burgers from X! TV Shows!). Product placements on TV have gotten worse. (did the man in black from Lost use an Apple computer in the last episode? No. He didn’t. But it would’ve been funny if he had.)

Of course, you go to the store and it’s that way too. Every chance they get to remind you of how unfulfilled you’ll feel until you buy! buy! buy!

We consume. We’re expected to consume. Consume and throw away. The more they convince you to consume, the better off they’ll be. I think it’s important for us to remember that. That’s how they pay the bills.

My boy’s relationship with his mom is a great analogy for the persistence of sin. It is not uncommon to hear “Sorry Momma, not obey” even as he starts picking up the offending object again. (In the most recent case I remember, something in the bathroom… my toothbrush, perhaps?) Sin is like that… and God’s patience is like my wife, too… dealing with the problem while loving the little boy. It’s good for my heart.

Growing up, no matter how well someone attempted to explain some concepts, it was only in story that I really started to get my head around it. I think that’s still true a lot of the time. I understand the idea of grace better through story than if you just talk about the propositional definition of it. I understand the idea of justice better through story than if you just talk about the propositional definition of it.

This is one of the reasons that I love story so much. It is a powerful tool for communicating truth and ideas. Bridge to Teribithia communicates big ideas about loss and death and imagination, but it never feels like the author forces it. The story does it.

Of course, there IS a danger inherent to communicating truth through story — it becomes easy for the story to become the new definition, or for nuances from the story that are not necessarily directly related to the truth to become part of our understanding of the truth. Every analogy breaks down.

But, even with the danger, story is a powerful way to communicate truth. God thinks so, too. (See all those great parables in the Gospels, for example. Or the true (and often messy) stories of Abraham, David, Nehemiah, and Paul.)

This is not a quote from a famous person. Usually the Monday posts are. Today, I want to share the most important thing I’ve been learning recently:

Sometimes it is my attitude that keeps me from learning what God would have me learn from life. It’s easier for me to blame circumstance, other people, or whatever else I can find to fit in there. The reality is that the most common culprit is my attitude, my heart.

I’ll go so far as to wager that it’s the same for you.

The NHL playoffs continue. Without my interest, I might add. Seriously, the Montreal Canadiens playing the Philadelphia Flyers has all the intrigue for me of Lex Luthor fighting the Romulans. Wait, no, that would be kind of awesome. The hockey thing is more like two things you disdain because they’re lame rather than because they’re “bad guys.” Anyway, analogy failed, but bottom line: NHL playoffs at this point? Meh.

However, there is an international hockey tournament going on over in Europe somewhere. The IIHF holds a world hockey championship every year — even in Olympic years. You’d think someone would be like, “Hey guys, um, we just had the winter olympics, which kind of established a world champion in a sport, so maybe, umm, can we skip a year?” Nope, no need to do that. Of course, the rosters end up looking a little different. Athletes who are invited to the Olympics go. Athletes who are invited to the WHC sometimes stop to think about it. Plus, the playoffs are still going on when it starts, so not everyone is available.

Yep, see, right there, I did it. I already gave a good reason why Canada stunk it up and is out of the WHC in the quarter finals. It’s not that we’re not the best (See: Olympics, Winter, 2010), it’s that our best aren’t there. It stinks that the Russians knocked us out. But, they probably feel a little bit better about that Olympic thing, now.

Just kidding. They don’t feel any better. Winning the World Hockey Championship won’t make them feel any better. They’ll have to wait 4 years to try to heal that wound. In your face, Russia!

And they said the cold war was dead.

The different ways men and women communicate will always be a primary source of humor. Case in point:

And yes, there’s one geared towards the hypocrisy we men use, too. I’m all for equal opportunity.

I want to talk about story and art and what they communicate.

Obviously, my approach to story and art are very heavily impacted by my world-view. No sense apologizing, right? I believe that man is engaged in a struggle. Either it’s a struggle with God, “I’ll have it my way,” or it’s a struggle with self, “I’ll have it His way.” (That’s gross oversimplification. I’m sure 12 of you just had 3 thoughts each that don’t fit into this construct. My apologies. Oversimplification is never fair to anyone, and I just did it to myself.)

Struggle does seem to be a fairly universal theme for humanity. I mean, we live in North America, in a time where income and wealth are at unbelievable heights, and yet we all seem to struggle. In my time as a bank manager, I got to interact with people who could personally write checks that blew my mind. One of them was what we all commonly refer to as a cat lady. None of them was content. All struggled for something different, something better, something more.

I think good art reflects (and helps instruct us in) the struggle. This seems to me to be as true in art that doesn’t reflect my world view precisely (like In Good Company, a movie about the corporate struggle that seems to understand corporate life incredibly well) as it is in art that does reflect my world view (The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe’s treatment of Edmund, for example, which makes my rebellious self sick to my stomach when I think about it and compare it to how I receive grace).

It’s not an attempt to instruct. Life instructs us every day — I watch my tomato plants grow and naturally think about the complex nature of how what I put in to the little cup they’re growing in impacts their growth. That’s a lesson. The tomato plant didn’t wake up thinking, I’ll show him today. But it did because of its nature. Art’s kind of like that.

It’s good for us. It’s fun too. If it’s not, you may want to start picking different stories, different art. It draws our attention in ways that we don’t always expect. It engages our hearts in creative ways. It keeps us thinking.  That’s why I value art and story. That’s why I want to teach my child to cherish good art.

There’s a common perception that people who love Jesus are dour and no-fun. I don’t think that has anything to do with why I value humor. But it does bear saying. That stereotype may impact me subconsciously. (I just basically said that the reason I try so hard to be funny might be because I’m afraid people think I’m not. How embarrassing is that?)

I value humor because humor communicates. It is easier to build bridges laughing than it is arguing. It humanizes people, levels the playing field, and puts people at ease. It helps friendships to develop.

It also has power in tense situations or with difficult topics. It lets us hear things easily that would otherwise be difficult or painful.

This is all true only when used well. Humor can also be demeaning. It can make people feel unvaluable. It can be the most off-putting thing about a person. I’ve met those people. Sadly, I think I’ve even been those people (that person, but, hey, it sounded better).

I care about humor and endeavor to use it (or point you to it) here because we can build common ground and see the world through each others’ eyes most easily when it’s funny.