I'm not the only one

"I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind
There was something so pleasant about that place.
But it wasn't because I didn't know enough
I just knew too much
Does that make me crazy?
Possibly
My heroes had the heart to
Lose their lives out on a limb
And all I remember is thinking, I want to be like them
Ever since I was little, ever since I was little it looked like fun
And it's no coincidence I've come
And I can die when I'm done
Maybe I'm crazy"
by Gnarls Barkley

My parents reared me to always speak my mind. This trait has served me well at certain times, and at others this habit has placed me in a lot of hot water. I'm passionate and emotional. I've cried in front of everyone I know and a lot of folks I've never met. I'm willing to not be right 100% of the time. I've always dreamt vividly and tried to put my effort into causes that truly matter (at least, I thought they did at the time). I've often failed, and there have been so many moments in my life of which I am deeply regretful. With the recent loss of my job, and due to a lot of time spent in thoughtful reflection and prayer, something is beginning to emerge from within me that is growing more and more unsettling. This dis-ease and dis-satisfaction I feel is gaining clarity and strength.
I had a conversation with two men who proclaim to follow Christ. I sincerely believe that they do their best in that worthwhile pursuit. However, I'm troubled by the reaction I got from them when I commented about the state of affairs in the American Church regarding a certain issue: the divorce rate amongst people who claim to be "Born Again." [For those of you unfamiliar with the term, Born Again generally refers to the idea that the person has had a personal experience with Jesus and surrenders/dedicates their life to his teaching and his way of life. In other words, these folks pursue Christlikeness.] One thing that Jesus teaches is that what we may give up on due to perceived limits or lack of resources is never impossible according to his abilities and imagination. (See: Matthew 19:26; Luke 1:37)
Anyway, when I asserted that I would like to see the day when our church no longer needed its Divorce Recovery program due to lack of need, they laughed. I believe the exact response was, "Yeah that'll happen, Ben; the same day Jesus comes back!" I know they believe that Jesus is returning. What pissed me off was their disbelief that something seemingly impossible: that increasing numbers of married couples, both of whom are committed to Christ, could actually remain married, and, consequently, the number of divorces within the walls of the American Church would dramatically decrease---this unbelief, this lack of faith, this all-too-common practice of regarding the sayings of Christ as cliches fit only for dismissive remarks when we don't know what to say to someone whose life circumstances have left them void of hope and left us otherwise speechless---this was the attitude that angered me so. Am I crazy? Am I that mentally ill to assume that when Jesus said something then, he meant it to still be true today? I've been searching for years for the one thing to which I could give my life. One cause. One mission. My heroes have lived on the fringes of what the majority would consider impossiblity. Take a flippin' risk. Believe in something. Preferrably something bigger than yourself. Maybe you'll even have some fun.
There is something pleasant in stepping out of the traffic, so to speak, long enough to figure out what you are crazy enough to get your self into.
So maybe I'm crazy. I just need a little faith, right? (Matthew 17:20)
A speck of hope?
I know too much to pretend to be unaware. I believe too much to be inactive. This doesn't make me a better person, nor does it mean I'll ever be completely successful before my time here on earth is finished. It just makes me committed. Maybe they'll commit me! Maybe I'm crazy. I know that I'm not really in control anyway. If nothing else, it gives me something to do. "And I can die when I'm done."


Ben Wilcox

David the Conference Junkie vs. Onslaught of Goliath Vendors

First, I'm in Atlanta at a Church leadership conference for young adults (http://www.catalystconference.com/) and I'm illegally passing out the paperback annoucement for Between Two Worlds (http://betweentwoworlds.org/). Can I go to jail for that? Maybe the worst that can happen is a littering ticket. Anyway, they have a ton of vendors here (the Christian term is "exhibitors"), and so it's like being at a shopping mall where you get the constant, "Sir, what wireless service do you have?" from the booths in the middle of the hallway. Except here, I'm getting nailed by the promotional, foam footballs from the next, great, youth, 'sports ministry' trying to get me to sign-up. (I would register, but I can't remember my name due to the head trauma I received from the aforementioned $.05 ball that impacted my skull) I've already inquired as to how I can get a booth at next year's conference (the audience is expected to be about 10,000!) promoting BTW and Oasis.
Secondly, we are now giving BTW to the parent(s) of the children of divorce in our program. Duh! This should have been the FIRST population of people that I thought of when asking, "Who HAS to read this?"
Third, I've also been pimping our bookstore folks pretty hard to better display the BTW workshop CDs, see: http://willowcreek.org/seeds.asp and the book version (when they come in--even though I am able to get them in two days or less from booksamillion. Go figure!). So, now the CDs are next to the registers, WAL-MART style. Hopefully that will produce some impulse buying: just like the lip balm and M&M's with which I almost walk out of the store if it weren't for those life-saving displays in the check-out aisle.
I don't know whether or not we can set up a booth next year at this conference. However, I love the idea that we could set something with the sole purpose of helping Churches help hurting kids---at no charge!
Lastly, imagine that: someone eating the cost of ministry so that more can be done in the name of Jesus. Wow. What a novel idea. Free love.
If I do make it back there as a vendor--oops, I mean 'exhibitor'--I think I'll leave my bullhorn and footballs at home.
Ben Wilcox

Blue Like My Sweatshirt

Two amazing things--no, three that happened to me, or about me, or just happened. No fault of my own. I certainly didn't earn them.
1. I got to have breakfast with an amazing man whom I truly admire and respect. I got to receive his wisdom and share a little of who I am.
2. I had a great visit with my dad.
3. I participated in an interview for an upcoming DVD How Divorce Changes Childhood. I hope it will be released this year.

This morning as I sat and listened to Donald "Not the Rock" Miller, http://www.donaldmillerwords.com/ speak about the evolution, or de-evolution, of the Church since the time of Christ (I believe this CD will be available at www.willowcreek.org/seeds.asp ), I thought, "How simple." How revolutionary his illustration of how our job as Christ-followers was to reunite orphaned or separated children to their father. Hmmm. He even went so far as to compare it to a dating service: setting people up on a blind date with God. Too much sales pitch scares off the potential "daters."

He said that if he were the devil, he'd do two things. First, give really weird people a T.V. ministry. Second, make Christians fight people on CNN. That way all of us look like racists, bigots, and hypocrites. We owe a lot of people an apology . . .



Ben Wilcox

Systemic Abandonment

"Twenty-five percent of the people polled in a recent national inquiry into American morality said that for 10 million they would abandon their entire family; a large number of people are evidently willing to do the same thing for free."
Stephanie Coontz, The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap


Are we abandoning our children and adolescents? In the very acts many parents to take to involve their kids in activities that will "build character," in the school systems that assign students hours and hours of homework (in addition to long sports pratices, clubs, extracirricular activites, all in the name of preparing them for the "real world"), in the fragmented family structures that have resulted from adults taking advantage of 'no-fault' divorces, in the labels we so readily assign to those kids who 'can't cut it'---'aren't athletic'---'are slow'---'are too sensitive,' in the insistence that kids find a job while still in school, in stretching them beyond their developmental capabilities to make us feel like we are really providing a great childhood and 'all the things we never had,' in all of these things and more, is society robbing kids of their childhood?

Thanks to the book Hurt, by Chap Clark, it's clear to me that so many things we do for kids may actually be for us---not them. The oversimplified result of his studies is that our act of being there: providing a safe, consistent, and loving physical presence in our kids' lives, is the best thing we can be doing.

"We have evolved to the point that where we believe driving is support, being active is love, and providing any and every opportunity is selfless nurture. We are a culture that has forgotten how to be together. Rather than being with children . . . or setting them free to enjoy semi-supervised activities such as 'play,' we as a culture have looked to outside organizations and structured agendas to fill [children's] lives. The systemic pressure on American children is immense. Too many of us actually enjoy the athletic, cultural, or artisitic baby-sitting service provided by those paid by the organizations. Even with the best of intentions, the way we raise, train, and even parent our children today exhibits attitudes and behaviors that are simply subtle forms of parental abandonment."

I think instead of conveniently changing the definition of the word family as often as we'd like to suit our dynamically selfish needs, more could be done to see to the real problem with today's youth. They feel lonely, unlistened to, and left on their own to figure out the way life is supposed to work. They feel used and manipulated by the very adults who may be behind the wheel of the minivan they are sitting in.
Ben Wilcox

A Timely Re-run

The Postmodern Prodigal

He just had to get out,
Couldn’t take it anymore;
He was finally gonna see
What this big world had in store.

Life so far had thrown him
Nothing but curves—
He was set to be out from under
& Get what he deserved.

Responsibility and restrictions,
Curfews no more—
Time to sow a few oats;
Life so far: a bore.

Taking only what was his
He walked out the door.
He never looked back—
Never thought all he had left was “more.”

Now years later,
His ‘more’ meant much less.
Could he ever go back?
Face to face, he must confess:

That he’d run away from life’s best;
He’d bought an empty dream.
Sometimes the grass
Isn’t as green as it seems.

“Would they have me back?”
He wondered aloud.
“My family I’ve abandoned and
I’ve been chasing a cloud.”

“I gave it all up:
Love, family, and grace;
I don’t deserve to have
My kids see my guilty face.”

“Please Lord, help me if you can
Make a way for me—
I’ve blown it:
I am the Prodigal Dad.”


Ben Wilcox

Wha' choo talkin' 'bout, Wilcox?

I just completed the Oswegoland Park District "i tried a triathlon'' this morning: 250m swim, 6.5 bike ride, and 2.1 mile run. It felt really good. It was fun, and I didn't puke. I finished in a little over 65 minutes, but more importantly: I finished! The swim about killed me. My wife put a LiveStrong bracelet on my bike. It kept me going, too. I kept thinking, "If some dude with one nut can win the hardest race in the world, I think I can keep pedaling."
Anyway, other than the few get-out-of-my-way, this-is-serious! people there, everybody was very supportive and nice to each other. They had all ages--even kids. I think there were entire families doing it together: really cool!
Thanks, Oswego, for putting on a great "race."

Ben Wilcox

Scar Tissue

I have a lot of scars.
Some big, some small--
Each tells bits of my story;
None tells it all.
The short ones may mean
More than the long;
A narrow gash a riddle--
Maybe a wide gouge a song.
The pain endured leaves a trail on the skin:
One sings of victory;
Another whispers a sin.



Ben Wilcox