A few years ago, I attempted to write down every bite of food I took in a day. I then swapped this food journal with a friend, hoping that it would serve as a good motivator of self-control. It's one thing for my kids to see me eat a jar of marshmallow cream, but quite another to let my health-conscious friend in on it. If nothing else, it tested my ethical boundaries, though I'm not sure it worked as a diet method. After some weeks we gave up, and I started eating Froot Loops again.
I also have a Fitbit, which is supposed to record the number of steps I take each day. In actuality, it records how much my wrist moves, which is not really all that helpful. An hour on the stairstepper at the gym gets me zero "steps," while shuffling papers at my dining room table can get me a thousand. Still, it's enough to send me marching through the house with my toothbrush in my mouth if I've only gotten 9,200 steps at bedtime.
There is some draw in evaluating our lives through recorded data. And where there's a draw, there's an opportunist. I have recently stumbled upon the entire "quantitative self movement." QS, also known as self-tracking or life-logging, started around 2007 with Fitbits, calorie counters, and sleep monitors. It has since exploded into a whole new lifestyle of statistically evaluating every aspect of one's life. There are people recording the number of hours they spend online and people taking inventory of every piece of clothing they own. This year's "QS17" conference will feature a woman who records every scar on her body--when she got it, how she got it, and how it's a meaningful part of her story.
Some people record their moods on the hour, including what makes them happy and what gets them upset. I read about a woman going through a divorce who documented every time she cried, every time she felt angry, every time she visited an online dating site. For those who really want to self-analyze, there are an abundance of online journaling sites. You churn out the words, the website provides you with all sorts of data: you're more uptight than other subscribers, you're more depressed than last week. One woman found out she thinks about death more than "normal" people. I'm sure that cheered her up.
I wonder, is the quantitative self for those who are interested in living better, or is it for those who are interested in living less? Your world becomes pretty small if you can count and measure everything in it. This also seems like one more way, along with tweets and selfies, that our modern world is pulling us into narcissism. It's hard to care about the hurts of others around you when you're obsessed with your own scars. Maybe we could all use a little less self-focus and a little more outward focus.
When the psalmist asked the Lord to "teach us to number our days" (Psalm 90:12), he wasn't talking about a scientific dissection of how we spend our minutes and hours. He was calling people to live with purpose. The end goal was to "gain a heart of wisdom." More and more, we live in a world where information is king, but give me wisdom over information any day. Knowing my resting heart rate? I can do without that. Pursuing the One who keeps it beating? Priceless.
Tuesday, June 20, 2017
Friday, June 2, 2017
I Don't Get It: A First Installment of What May Become Semi-Regular
Note: There's a lot that I don't get. So much so that I'm going to write about it periodically under the heading "I Don't Get It." I've been in this world quite a long time, and there is still so much I'm trying to make sense of. I'm not trying to be sarcastic or funny; I'm genuinely trying to understand. I welcome your responses, public or private.
The NBA Championship kicked off last night, somewhat overshadowed by the news that LeBron James's house had been spraypainted with the "n" word. James responded by saying, "No matter how much money you have, no matter how famous you are, no matter how many people admire you, being black in America is tough."
Although I would argue that just living in this fallen world is tough, his statement is helpful and thought-provoking for a white, middle-class mom who's never faced a day of racism in her life. But here's what I don't get: Why is this word that is so clearly offensive used so extensively among the people it offends?
Last weekend, I was at a park in Toledo, Ohio, with my two younger daughters. While my family celebrated my nephew's graduation, a group of young black men played basketball as their music blared. In twenty minutes, we heard the "n" word hundreds of times. We heard about "raping bitches" over and over again. Though the day was beautiful and the basketball fun to watch, we could only stomach so much of it before we had to leave.
So what are we to teach out kids? First, the rule for whites: Common sense and sensitivity say we never use the "n" word. Paula Dean and countless others have learned this the hard way. I hope I've taught my kids that labels in general, and derogatory ones in particular, are not a loving way to treat people. This word should not be in our vocabulary. In fact, it should feel distasteful in our mouths. Last summer, when we read New Boy, a Civil Rights-era book, aloud together, I stumbled hard over the "n" word. I should stumble. My kids should stumble, even when they see it in good literature. This I get. But from there it gets much trickier.
From what I read online, even though the word is a staple of rap music, it is not to be used by white rappers. There was some debate over whether or not Asian rappers could use it. Because Asians, as far as we know, never kept black slaves, it might be OK for them to use it. For younger blacks--rapper or otherwise--it's perfectly acceptable. In fact, they encourage its use, seeing it as a sign of power and liberation to freely throw around a word laced with such historical oppression. I read that it has become a term of endearment "in a defiant, yet fitting, cultural appropriation of a term meant to hurt" African Americans. One young man promised that in a decade, we'll see it appear on children's spelling lists. Older generations of black men and women heartily disagree and believe the word should never be used by anyone.
(I didn't find any discussion on the pros and cons of the term "raping bitches," but maybe I'm not looking hard enough.)
So is this what I'm supposed to teach my kids when I'm at parks in Toledo and at stoplights in Colorado Springs and we hear a word that's supposedly forbidden, for good reason, drilled into our heads twenty times in a minute? This whole line about how it's never OK for us, but that it's somehow empowering for those it offends? That's what I don't get.
When we pull back the lens from this one word and look at the bigger picture, it becomes clearer. Racism is real. It affects the rich, the famous, and even the heroes of our culture. Hate and selfishness leave their ugly mark on all of us, but some get it a lot worse than others. No matter where we come from or how we're different, we have a common enemy who uses hate to divide and destroy us and to distract us from the One who gives love and peace and reconciliation. That I understand, and it's a crying shame.
The NBA Championship kicked off last night, somewhat overshadowed by the news that LeBron James's house had been spraypainted with the "n" word. James responded by saying, "No matter how much money you have, no matter how famous you are, no matter how many people admire you, being black in America is tough."
Although I would argue that just living in this fallen world is tough, his statement is helpful and thought-provoking for a white, middle-class mom who's never faced a day of racism in her life. But here's what I don't get: Why is this word that is so clearly offensive used so extensively among the people it offends?
Last weekend, I was at a park in Toledo, Ohio, with my two younger daughters. While my family celebrated my nephew's graduation, a group of young black men played basketball as their music blared. In twenty minutes, we heard the "n" word hundreds of times. We heard about "raping bitches" over and over again. Though the day was beautiful and the basketball fun to watch, we could only stomach so much of it before we had to leave.
So what are we to teach out kids? First, the rule for whites: Common sense and sensitivity say we never use the "n" word. Paula Dean and countless others have learned this the hard way. I hope I've taught my kids that labels in general, and derogatory ones in particular, are not a loving way to treat people. This word should not be in our vocabulary. In fact, it should feel distasteful in our mouths. Last summer, when we read New Boy, a Civil Rights-era book, aloud together, I stumbled hard over the "n" word. I should stumble. My kids should stumble, even when they see it in good literature. This I get. But from there it gets much trickier.
From what I read online, even though the word is a staple of rap music, it is not to be used by white rappers. There was some debate over whether or not Asian rappers could use it. Because Asians, as far as we know, never kept black slaves, it might be OK for them to use it. For younger blacks--rapper or otherwise--it's perfectly acceptable. In fact, they encourage its use, seeing it as a sign of power and liberation to freely throw around a word laced with such historical oppression. I read that it has become a term of endearment "in a defiant, yet fitting, cultural appropriation of a term meant to hurt" African Americans. One young man promised that in a decade, we'll see it appear on children's spelling lists. Older generations of black men and women heartily disagree and believe the word should never be used by anyone.
(I didn't find any discussion on the pros and cons of the term "raping bitches," but maybe I'm not looking hard enough.)
So is this what I'm supposed to teach my kids when I'm at parks in Toledo and at stoplights in Colorado Springs and we hear a word that's supposedly forbidden, for good reason, drilled into our heads twenty times in a minute? This whole line about how it's never OK for us, but that it's somehow empowering for those it offends? That's what I don't get.
When we pull back the lens from this one word and look at the bigger picture, it becomes clearer. Racism is real. It affects the rich, the famous, and even the heroes of our culture. Hate and selfishness leave their ugly mark on all of us, but some get it a lot worse than others. No matter where we come from or how we're different, we have a common enemy who uses hate to divide and destroy us and to distract us from the One who gives love and peace and reconciliation. That I understand, and it's a crying shame.
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