Theological Thoughts for Thursday

Alma lives vicariously through me sometimes. Her mother was a piano teacher, just like mine. Alma loves hearing stories about my mother, because my mother acts and thinks just like hers did. Her mother died 64 years ago, when Alma was 12. Alma often wants to know my mother’s opinion on trivial matters in my life. It’s important for her, because it’s a small window into how her mother might have reacted, how her life might have been different if her mother had lived. She wonders if her mother would have also encouraged her to go for her dreams.

I’m in South Korea now (I write these weeks in advance, so I assume I have made it safely!). I had a number of options after graduation, but going to South Korea was the only one that really felt like it was heading in the directions of my dreams. One other option sounded great. The pay would have been better, the location more familiar, and my friends closer. But I knew that I would have been too happy in that position. I would have settled. I wouldn’t have followed my dreams. The enemy of “great” is “good enough.”

Now, I couldn’t explain this principle to many people when I was making my decisions. But, I called mom and explained why I was making the choice I was making. I expected her to be exacerbated by my lack of common sense, but she calmly replied, “Yes, you need to follow your dreams. You don’t want to settle for any less than your dreams.”

This is one of those concepts that has been well formed in my heart. Dad gave up the opportunity to go to college because of a girl. Mom refused a helicopter flight to the top of Mount Rushmore because she was afraid her long hair would get caught in the propellers. Mom never joined the peace corps and never went for her masters. Dad didn’t declare Florida residency, the one missing piece in his application, to get his dream job at Disneyworld. I was always taught to go for my dreams, to never settle and never be afraid.

So, here I am, living out my dreams. Working toward my goals. Alma lets me know that I’m also working toward her goals. That I’m living out her dreams, too.

Oh hey friends. I'm safely in South Korea. At my apartment I have wi-fi. I think that I will be able to keep updating and keep doing Theological Thoughts for Thursday. I will post some day to day updates on my life at michaelairgood.blogspot.com. Sorry to force everyone to keep up with two different blogs. I'll try and keep the material fresh on both sites.

Thanks, Michael.

Theological Thoughts for Thursday

Oh, hey, did I mention that I'm leaving for South Korea on Monday?!?! That's kind of important. Last week I wrote that I was excited to continue the journey and see what God has in store for me.

This week I live that out. This week I begin a new chapter in my life.

There's something profoundly theological and suddenly calming about following to the ends of the earth. It's a joy and a thrill to experience that.

I hope you all got to be a part of my "return trip" of one week in Kane!

Love, Michael.

Theological Thoughts for Thursday

I'm graduating on Saturday. I am the first male member of the Airgood family to ever graduate from college. It's kind of a big deal.

I look back on my four years of education, especially the spiritual aspects of it; and I am so thankful that I had my local church family to support me.

I'm glad to graduate, it's been a great four years. I'm happy that I've had this experience. While I'm glad that I'm through with my undergrad, I'm even happier that I managed to slow down and savor the experience.

College is probably the best four years of your life.

I'm glad for all that God has taught me in these four years.

I'm happy with who I am and who I have become. I look forward to what God has for the rest of my life.

Well this is weird.

I finished my last final today. I'm done with all of my work for my undergraduate degree.

How weird.

Days of wandering aimlessly through my old town. Days of anticipation ... Korea? Really? Goodbyes, a firm handshake hello.

Theological Thoughts for Thursday

It was difficult to teach the kid’s about conviction. Usually when I teach the kids a lesson, I find myself face to face with that value or virtue. I once taught the kids using the passage, “you visit me when I was in prison” only to find myself trying to sign in to visit a friend in jail a few days later.

So, I wasn’t too pleased to teach about conviction. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m a person of conviction. It’s just that my conviction’s don’t always line up with those of other Christians around me.

We talked about what we as Christians are called to do in everyday situations. What do we do if we see a bully picking on someone? Now, as principled people of conviction – we are called to act justly – our call is to stand up for the oppressed.

This is particularly difficult to teach children, because … come on … who does this? We live in a culture that teaches “protect your own” and a country that follows this rule. We pay taxes to a government that perpetuates “pre-emptive strikes.” We are the bully.

Sister PeterMarie, in my perennial favorite HBO show, OZ, stands on the other side of bars that keep a death row inmate inside. She is fighting and praying that his sentence will be commuted. She explains her sense of powerlessness. The inmate, a feeble minded older gentleman who speaks in monosyllabic expressions, says, “You, me, God, pray.” And they join together in prayer. I feel so helpless against the social justice I see all around me.

It’s so easy for me to speak publicly about the evils I encountered with the caste system in India. I can’t speak out against the white power structure found in my own culture. It’s not so easy for me to search out and fight for social justice when I am part of the power structure. I’m the bully?

So, I tell the kids that I teach, that they need to stand up to the bully. But, what I really mean is that I need to stand up to the bully; that I need to stand up for my convictions.

In my Christian Education class, they teach that Christianity, and all of its inherent values and morals, are caught … not taught. So, no matter how many times I repeat the necessity of standing up for what’s right – if I don’t do it, it’s worthless.

When at a yardsale, one always buys one item more than necessary. At least one item more than is necessary. I dropped by a church yard sale to buy a picture frame for my grandparent’s Christmas gift. (It’s okay. They’re not reading this. I promise.)

I was shifting through the myriad of frames and pictures when I came across the most unusual item. When I saw the picture, my heart sank in response to the visceral sadness. I loved it at the same time.

The picture is a framed 7X5 of a beloved pet cat. The cat is entirely out of focus. Everything else is crisp and sharp. The artifacts of a strict post-WWII household are clearly visible in the back hallway. The cat looks neither amused, nor interested in the photographic apparatus.

“Who frames pictures of blurry cats?” you ask. “Someone who doesn’t have the opportunity to take a better picture.” I postulate. Today I sit in my kitchen with my cat playfully toying at my toes. But I know this too shall pass. No one will love my Vassya as much as I do. I can’t quite get him to understand that I’m leaving soon. That I’m leaving him behind.

I don’t think my kids, from work and church, understand that I’m leaving them. I’ve lived by my values: Do all the good you can. John Wesley said it before me. I pray that Jim keeps on reading like I taught him and stays out of Juvey. I hope that Logan never loses his ability to confront with truth for the sake of the Gospel – kids have it but we adults tend to lose it.

And my house. My beautiful house at 80 Schaefer Ct.. I begin to tell people my address in Pennsylvania when they ask. My red kitchen and chocolate bedroom. Colors I didn’t choose, but the colors I would have chosen. The open door policy, coming home to a house-full of guests.

My train. I will miss my train. For three years it has reminded me at all hours of the day and night that there are places other than here. When persecution of the fringe escalated and kids were kicked out of TFC for whatever reasons, my home became the underground railroad for them.

I have so many pictures of out-of-focus cats. Fading memories of people I loved whose names elude me. Reading Mrs. Dalloway on grandma Alma’s dock as it bobbed in the river. Waking up and not being alone. Papers and whole classes that wouldn’t even make the footnotes of my life story. These things that I loved, that I never really appreciated as I should. I can’t appreciate them any more, so I hang them on my wall.

I don’t mind that they’re blurry. I’m just happy they happened.