| 1square: lifeblog by tyler |

I stink at blogging.

Tyler

4corners: Saturday Edition

Welcome back to 4corners, a quick look at four random things on my mind. I know it’s a day late, but that’s neither here nor there. What’s important is that we’re here, sharing in this moment together. Here are this week’s 4corners:

1. Whatever changes have been made to Safari (post-Snow Leopard) officially wrecked Tumblr support. I thought I’d moved on from Firefox, but that’s what works right now. Good thing I never uninstalled it…
2. I bought a fairly ridiculous amount of TOMS stuff this week:  one pair of woven Alpargatas (the classic silhouette), one pair of Stitch-Outs, and a hat. My bank account weeps, because it doesn’t understand One for One. I, on the other hand, feel pretty good about the whole thing.
3. I need some serious feedback from you, the faithful few readers of this blog. Do you like some of what you’ve seen this week? Stuff like Radical: and The Old Box is a bit of a departure from the expected 1square irreverence. What did you think?
4. We scored some free tickets to today’s inaugural football game at ODU. How awesome are tickets on the 40-yard line? Way awesome. Go Big Blue!

See y’all next week.

Tyler

The Old Box.

I’m going to a thrift store this weekend, because I need an old box.

This can’t be just any old box, though:  I need an old box that can hold some serious junk.

This week, our students (and students all around the country) are going back to school. It’s an abrupt shift from summertime frivolity to autumnal rigidity. Lazy mornings, camp excursions, and family vacations have passed away, and a long 180 days of scholarly application stretch forward beyond the horizon. The season changes, and life changes along with it.

In the often microcosmic world of student ministry, one sees summer as the most impactive and thorough time of growth for young Christians—three months of tireless emphasis and spectacle, all with a view to profound faith experiences among youth.

All of that passes away, too.

Your group just left the cozy confines of youth group for the uncomfortable reality of…well…reality.

They just became missionaries in the largest mission field they’ve ever known.

“The harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few.”

This summer, our group studied the ministry of reconciliation (2 Cor. 5:11-21), the meaning of baptism (Acts 19:1-7), and post-mountaintop discipleship (Matthew 17:1-9). Now they’re out there, like lambs among wolves.

How long until the vicious cycle of secularity takes hold? How long until all of the profundity and revelation of summer are devoured by something…I don’t know…cooler?

How long until the old comes back?

That’s why I need the old box. It will be a place to put the old self once you’ve taken it off. It will be locked away. Gone. Forgotten. Never to be seen again.

Whether student or adult, we all have junk for the old box.

So, I guess the question is this:  What would you put in? What wolves in the real world are devouring your lambs? What overwhelms your spirit and your vitality and your confidence? What’s keeping you from the harvest?

Put it in the box.

What holds back your testimony? What keeps the name of Jesus out of your mind and off your tongue?

Put it in the box.

What part of your old self is still hanging around?

I think you know what to do.

Here’s to fall, and a surprising amount of newness.

Tyler

Radical:

Adjective.

1.  Relating to or affecting the fundamental nature of something.

What is radical? It’s a slanderous word. Radical left or right. Radical activism. Radical Islam. Radical fundamentalism.

Radical Christianity.

Nobody likes radical, because radical means change. And change is uncomfortable, unexpected, and unwelcome.

Change is deep.

2.  Of or relating to the root of something.

Roots.  Of quantities. Of words. Of chords. Of trees.

Roots are deep. Natural. Fundamental.

The world doesn’t want deep, natural, fundamental change.

Neither does the Church.

Radical is a slanderous word.

3.  Characterized by departure from tradition.

Radical is a departure from tradition. Not a departure toward some far-off branch where truth and delusion comingle in a spacy utopia. It’s a departure from tradition to the fundamental nature of a thing.

Not a branch, but a root.

Radical isn’t expressed through pruning and trimming. It isn’t maintenance. It isn’t propogation. It isn’t destructive.

Radical takes you back to the root, back to the tree’s life-giving strength, back to the catalyst.

Radical is fundamental. It touches the tree at its basest point and watches growth and color and vitality transform the whole tree.

4.  Thorough and intended to be completely curative.

Roots. Life-giving strength.

Radical reaches into the dirt and makes the tree flourish.

Radical heals and doesn’t destroy. If a branch doesn’t take to it, it dies.  Dead branches are pruned, but not by the radical.

Radical is competely curative.

Jesus said, “I have come that they may have life, and that they may have it more abundantly.” He worked at humanity’s basest level. He healed from the dirt.

He makes all things new, roots first.

Radical in the world is one thing. Radical in the Church, however, is trickier. The Church is traditional. Unaffected.

The Church is an old tree.

But would the radical more likely prune the tree, or nourish its life-giving parts? Would the radical burn away what he sees as dead, or would he give strength to the nature of the thing? Would he—as so many others already have—criticize the cultivation of tradition, or would he return it to its fundaments?

Does he heal the tree from the branches in, or from the roots up?

There is a place for radical in the Church.

You won’t find it in tradition.

It’s not an offshoot.

Radical is the roots.

Tyler

Causes 3: Postal Patriotism

If you haven’t heard the news, the United States Postal Service is in deep, deep trouble.

Does this worry anybody else? We’re talking about the Post Office here. Every town has one, each outfitted with a small fleet of miniature, mail-dipensing ice cream trucks. They bring you your mail—all of it.  Your packages may come from FedEx or UPS, but your mail—the good, the bills, and the junk—comes through the Post Office.

And it’s reasonable beyond belief. I can drop an envelope in my mailbox, and it will be mysteriously transported in two or three business days from here to…I don’t know…California. Washington. Wyoming. Maine. Wherever. I don’t have to travel. I don’t have to do anything. There are untold numbers of people and processes and mini-trucks and airplanes that envelope goes through. Then it lands in my friend’s equally magical mailbox.

That costs 44 cents.

Really? Is that it? That should probably cost…dollars. Not cents. No wonder they’re no longer financially viable. It’s a steal.

But there’s more to the problem than too-cheap postage. Emails, electronic bills, and instant messages have flattened the Earth and crushed the Post Office. Why compose a letter when you can shoot an email?  Why send an invoice when you automatically debit an account? Who needs Pen Pals when you’ve got IM Buddies?

Technology has lapped the postal service, and it’s sad.

What happens if it goes away?  Would you miss it? I would. What happens to the surprise of letter from a long-distance friend? What happens to the coupons? What happens to Harriet Carter?

I’m not a big “support-the-government-‘cause-I’m-a-patriot-God-bless-America” kind of guy. But the thought of a world without mail is downright depressing.

I propose a letter-writing campaign.

We’re not writing letters to the President. We’re not petitioning our congressmen and congresswomen. We’re not flooding some hipster social activism organization.

We’re going to write to each other.

44 cents and a little effort could save this ship bit by bit.

If you want to receive a letter—a real letter—from me, drop your address in an email (necessary hypocrisy!) or the comments section (if you’re exceedingly open with your info). Every single person who does so will receive a for-real letter in a timely fashion.

Here are the official rules:

1. All addresses given to me (through email or comment) will not be shared, sold, or otherwise abused.
2. All letters must be handwritten, personal, and unique.
3. Any mail sent from or received by me must not contain any commercial offers or solicitations.
4. ALL LETTERS MUST RECEIVE AN OFFICIAL REPLY AS PRESCRIBED BY THESE RULES.

Did you catch #4? You’re on the hook for this, too, but only after I send you a letter. If money is an issue, I’ll send you a stamp.

It’s time for some Postal Patriotism.

Tyler

*Stamp offer subject to change without notice, as I may be broke.

**Envelope may or may not be pink, depending on my mood.

***Check this out:

To the Faithful 188.

188. That’s how many people looked at this page in August.

1. That’s how many times I’ve posted in the same window.

Disparity?  I think so.

Things aren’t as bleak as they seem here on the 1square page.  It’s just that…well…I haven’t had much to say.  I mean, I’ve been busy, and I’m only just now settling into a brand new life schedule.  But that’s no excuse.  The 188 are disappointed.

That, or one person has been disappointed 188 times.

Still, this thing is kinda directionless, isn’t it?  That’s why—beginning this very week—you’ll see a greater balance between meaningful content and inane ramblings on this page.  I need to stretch myself both productively and creatively.  In other words, get ready for some big stuff.

In keeping with tradition, I’ll treat this relaunch of sorts with its very own blog-happy kickoff week.  Check back each day (through Friday) for something new.  Here’s the tentative slate:

• Monday: Abundantly apologetic nonsense.
• Tuesday: A letter-writing campaign.
• Wednesday: Ruminations on radicalness.
• Thursday: Old stuff.
• Friday: The triumphant return of 4corners.

To all who find this place for the first time, welcome.  To the 188, welcome back.

Tyler

1square Blog Nugget: Back with an eventual vengeance.

Summer. Two camps=done. One VBS=tackled. All that’s left are three little weeks of the whole world on my shoulders while the Pastor vacations. Then I’m in the clear.

At least I’ll be in my office more, which should hopefully translate into more good times here on the 1square blog. In other words, stay tuned.

Until then,

Tyler

The Warm Fuzzies 01: Pogs

I frustrate my wife.  Admittedly, she puts up with a lot.  But she knew about my frequent nostalgia binges from the get-go, and married life hasn’t exactly changed that.  (How many of my classic video games are on display in our living room?  If you answered, “all of them,” give yourself a gold star.)

Pog has become a bit of a dirty word in our household recently.  Not that I have any particular longings for what are essentially the demon token-spawn of Hawaiian tradition and shameless marketing vehicles.  It’s just that, for a brief moment in time, these fanciful cardboard discs were it.  I’m talking epic stuff here:  Happy Meal promotions, in-school bans, tournaments, even a World Pog Federation.  I’m pretty sure I still know the Mid-Atlantic Regional WPF champion…

And I can’t help myself.

So there we were, perusing the wares of Thrift Store USA, when I happened upon this:

Yea, I know.  Awesome.

At least, I thought it was awesome.  Mindy thought I was crazy.  Her logic held—I resisted the charms of the unbelievably well-preserved Pog game.  But when I returned to the same store just days later, the game had been marked down to $2.50.

Seriously?  $2.50?!

Now how to explain it to Mindy…a text message?  An overly evasive text message?  OK, I can do this…

“Hey.  I really love you.”

That should do it.  Soften her up a bit.

Mindy:  ”I love you, too.  Wait, you bought that Pog game, didn’t you?”

She’s good.

And so we reluctantly welcomed Pog Man into our home.  He lives in the closet with our other board games.  I can see him from the couch where I occasionally sleep.

Tyler

PS:  Do you remember these?  Wanna play?  Leave a comment.

PPS:  How cool would it be if you had one of these?

MediaBox 11: Harry Potter, yeah!

I am not, by strictest definition, a Harry Potter fan.  I have read exactly zero Harry Potter books.  I own no HP merchandise, so far as I know—I can’t speak for my wife’s possessions.  And yet somehow, through the infinite bafflement of trying to be hip to what’s square, I went to see Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince at 12:01 am today.

For personal reasons, I hereby refuse to use the following words in this review: Magical, wizardry, Muggle, wand. Thanks for understanding.

Also, I hope I don’t need to go into the whole “you can’t judge the movie by the book (and vice versa) because it does them both a disservice you geek” rant.  They’re different.  Deal.

So, after all of that, I’d like to say that Harry Potter no. whatever is OK.  Having pored over the suitably enticing trailers in recent months, I was prepared to be blown away.  But I wasn’t.

The story is a great piece of Potter lore, and its twists and surprises—yes, some of us are still being surprised here—make the next movie(s) absolutely mandatory.  The special effects are astounding throughout, and the score is possibly the best in the series.

Why is it just OK, then?  Less-than-stellar acting, poor pacing, and general convolution hold this one back from greatness.  It’s definitely a regression from the genuinely entertaining previous entry, Harry Potter and the Order of the Something-or-Other.

The biggest problem: It doesn’t deliver on its über-epic promises.  Every time something awesome happens to sweep me up, it drops me like I’m hot.  The big-deal revelations toward the end of the film are rushed and, as a result, quite vapid.  I so wanted to have my gut wrenched and my heart broken and—eventually—my spirit lifted.  All I got was let down.

And now, the question you’ve been asking yourself:  Does Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince get the 1square Seal of Approval? In the interest of setting precedents, I’ll give it one half-seal, which is kinda like a half-pendant of life, though it won’t ward off Temple Guards.  See it if you love Potter.  Muggles need not apply.

Breaking my own rules,

Tyler

The Right Stuff

Are you on Twitter yet?  Everybody in the world is talking about it.  (I honestly listened to a Twitter discourse from a Thomas Jefferson portrayer this very week.)  The world now moves at the speed of Tweets.  Get on it.

Whenever you finally capitulate, try TweetDeck.  It makes managing multiple Twitter accounts and Facebook updates a snap.  And it’s free.  Excuses=Zero.

Oh, and after you do all that…

…get your very own New Kids on the Block skin.  I refuse to spoil all of the surprises within, but believe me, it’s worth it.

Hangin’ tough.

Tyler