The Fool’s Gold

Terry Virgo pays a tribute to Mark Driscoll today following his deliveries at the recent Together on a Mission conference in Brighton, UK. Here is an excerpt:

Well, he came and he’s gone – but we certainly know he was here!

Mark Driscoll packs a punch.

What did I especially appreciate about him?

His straightforwardness. Nothing hidden and no hiding, so, like the Apostle Paul, his forthrightness commended himself to our consciences. Because of his transparency it’s not difficult to feel that you know him personally, though you may have been lost in the vast crowd and never had the privilege of any one-to-one time.

He loves the truth and he loves Jesus and wants to make him known to 21st century people.

Pettiness and small-mindedness don’t stand a chance when he cuts loose with his burning desire to see Christ glorified in our generation. His radical priorities and decision-making are deeply rooted in a passion to confront our contemporaries with gospel truth.

I had the opportunity to sit in on an ordination council this morning at church. It was very profitable, to cop a term from Monday’s post. One of the topics that surfaced during a discussion on the doctrine of the Church was the possibility that a person could be gifted in a particular area (administration, teaching, etc.) and yet be spiritually immature.

I think we could apply this to the blogosphere.

It is tempting to judge a post’s worth by its rhetorical flair and linguistic acumen. These are great attributes, but they can easily become a substitute for the Spirit’s power if we are not careful.

In light of this, here are nine questions to ask when crafting a post. They are patterned after Galatians 5:22-23. I’m sure others have taken this approach before me. I would like to join their tribe.

Nine Questions to Ask When Blogging

1. Is my writing governed by a deep love for my readers and for those I may mention in my posts, or am I simply using my readers to get what I really want (recognition, links, more hits)?
2. Is the tone of my blog one of deep (not cheesy) joy in Jesus, or am I biting and negative?
3. Is there a settledness to my writing, or am I frantic and using a lot of exclamation points and words in all-caps?
4. When I disagree with someone on my blog, do I rant about their bad ideas, or do I bear with that person in the hope that God will grant him repentance?
5. When people leave hurtful comments, do I respond with piercing vitriol, or do I extend kindness and give them the benefit of the doubt?
6. Do I tend to blog about subjects that are edifying, or do I dwell on material that will corrupt the minds of my readers?
7. Do I labor to produce content that is well-done and thoughtful, or am I content with sloppy shortcuts?
8. Is my writing style heavy-handed, or am I gentle in the way I express myself (even when I have to say very hard things)?
9. Am I disciplined in what I allow myself to post about, or do I have itchy typing fingers that gravitate toward the sensational?

What others would you add?

I think one other list would be appropriate, because there is another common use of “good” that begs for revision.

When we experience an event that is underwhelming in its quality, we will say that it was good when we really mean that it was mediocre. This usage is a subtle beast, because it can only be detected by voice inflection. When we are really impressed with something, we say “good” with a deep, melting voice, like it’s warm butter rolling over corn on the cob. However, when we want to be diplomatic and staid in our commentary, we say “good,” but we elongate it, and the tone sounds more like a roller coaster.

Example #1:

“How was the vacation in the Swiss Alps?”

“It was goooooood.” Warm butter.

Example #2:

“How was the conference on Hungarian tax law?”

“It….was….guuhhhooooouuuhhhd.” Tentative. Furrowed brow. Up, down, up.

To resolve the confusion, here are ten other words to put in your quiver for those times when you want to say a thing was mediocre (or worse) and you are tempted to say it was good:

1. Vapid
2. Middling
3. Adequate
4. Tolerable
5. Prosaic
6. Acceptable
7. Pedestrian
8. Humdrum
9. Insipid
10. Passable

Any other suggestions?

I say “good” too much. “I’m good.” “Our trip was good.” “Class was good.” “That was really good.” Sometimes I even say “pretty good” to express measured ambivalence. “Good” is my drip-pan descriptor. As a result, all of its meaning leaks out and I’m left with a hollow verbal shell. Good is no longer good. It’s filler.

The answer, of course, is not to pick some other term to wear out. The answer is to vary my responses.

Here are ten substitutes for the word “good.” Try to throw them into a conversation. That way, when you do use “good,” it will not be a synonym for fluff:

1. Profitable
2. Pleasant
3. Glorious
4. Delectable
5. Phenomenal
6. Prodigious
7. Gratifying
8. Mirthful
9. Worthwhile
10. Delightful

May you find the exercise to be a prodigious experience of phenomenality.

Seth Godin waxes perceptive on Apple’s recent release of the new iPhone 3G, which was fraught with technological difficulty. According to Godin, Apple mishandled the use of market scarcity. He offers the following advice:

1. Use the internet instead of forcing people to wait in line.
2. Reward early patrons.
3. Vary your treatment of customers depending on how much they have spent or used your product in the past.
4. Orchestrate your release so you can catch mistakes early (i.e., use the internet).
5. Give your early patrons a venue for reveling in their purchase.

Robert Velarde offers some suggestions for discernment in our choices of technology (HT: Challies).

Also, the Resurgence blog highlights YouVersion, a free online Bible application for the iPhone with some pretty helpful features (it even includes three Spanish translations!).

If a church truly welcomes everyone, does it really need a sign that says so?

I saw WALL-E in the theater last night and really enjoyed it. I found Pixar’s creative muscle to be delightfully flexed. It’s not every day you can pitch a robotic love story and have it rake in $62.5 million during it’s opening weekend.

My brother, ever the political pundit, suggested an environmentalist agenda behind the movie. He may be onto something. After all, Josh Harris said the movie made him want to recycle everything.

However, in an interview with World Magazine’s Megan Basham, WALL-E screenwriter and director Andrew Stanton set the record straight:

“People made this connection that I never saw coming with the environmental movement, and that’s not what I was trying to do. I was just using the circumstances of people abandoning the Earth because it’s filled with garbage as a way to tell my story.

I always knew that I wanted WALL•E to be digging through trash for two reasons: One, I wanted him to be the lowest on the totem pole. It’s a janitorial job; it’s the saddest, lowest status amongst his kind; and it just makes him that much more of a lonely guy. Two, trash is really visual. Even the littlest kid understands when there’s stuff in the way and it needs to be picked up, so I didn’t need to spend time explaining his job. And then I just reverse-engineered from there, ‘OK, if there’s trash everywhere, how did it get there?’”

Seth Godin praised the film as a brave move on Pixar’s part.

Have you seen the movie? What did you think?

BBC News carries a story about a beggar from Calcutta who has recently opened a bank account with the coins (weighing 200 pounds) she has amassed over 40+ years. She began begging as a child on account of an attack of polio.

This raises the interesting issue of how to deal with people who ask for money.

How do you think we should respond? Do you have any advice for how to approach the situation?

Do you think begging in America — or any first-world country — is different than begging in Calcutta?

For example, I like grilled cheese sandwiches. My wife can eat them, but wouldn’t request them on a menu. I think my persuasive powers would be at least quadrupled if, instead of saying I would really like grilled cheese sandwiches for dinner, I said, “Fifty percent of our family would like to eat grilled cheese tonight.”

Thankfully, God gave me a wife who doesn’t require me to employ statistical manipulation when lobbying for cuisine. Thank you, honey.

I’ve come to the conclusion that at least 80% of our social blunders are caused, not by forgetting things, but by remembering them at the wrong time:

You approach that guy you met at that New Year’s get-together, and you totally blank on his name. Someone tells you afterward. “Of course!” you say. Case in point.

Your uncle was born November 12. You remember on November 14. Hello Belated Birthday Card aisle.

That presentation you were supposed to give? It all comes back in living color when your boss calls you from the conference room wondering why he and ten other executives are staring at a blank screen.

The moral of the story: Don’t just learn information (names, birthdays, appointments). Incorporate triggers into your life that will help you access that information when you need to. That way, you won’t just remember…you’ll remember at the right time.