My Heroes

This post is a list of people I call my heroes. They have inspired me, or informed me, or encouraged me to one degree or another. Some of their influences affected me in earlier years of my life, some are still in progress. They have all had me in tears at one point or another, some many times.

I list them in no particular order.  About some I have much to say, others not so much.  Don't read anything into that. Their influences are all too multi-dimensional to make direct comparisons between them.

I must confess to you that I worry about making this public. It is my own weakness that I worry about what you think.  What if you hate them? What if you think they are trouble-makers, bigots, ivory-tower-ish, or self-righteous? What if you roll your eyes at my list? What if you think them pretentious and (gasp) me too by extension???  Well, so be it. These folks are awesome.

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Francis Schaeffer's books - how can I say it? - finally made sense of the world.  The first one I read was "How Should We Then Live? The Rise and Decline of Western Thought and Culture". It was a brief history of western thought, why it was great, where it went wrong, and where it is headed. In its few hundred pages, it transformed my understanding of philosophy, art, culture, politics, law, theology, and history. It put a big enough frame around them all that I could finally start making some sense of them all. He was a genius. I wanted to name my youngest son Schaeffer, but my wife was afraid he would be beaten up on account having a funny name.  So we made Schaeffer his middle name!

Nothing I can say is adequate praise for the Saint of Calcutta, Mother Teresa. Her devotion to the poor and marginalized (sustained for 45 years!) is nothing less than inspirational. I love this picture of her.

Rich Mullins was a musician whose life and lyrics communicated great spiritual depth and yet sincere humility. His authenticity and simplicity inspired me and challenged my suburban middle class life. There was a longing in his music, a hunger for something else over the horizon: heaven.

And if I sing, let me sing with a joy

That has born in me these songs

And if I weep let it be as a man

That is longing for his home

Bono is still alive, and therefore a potential threat to my hero list; he could still do something to embarrass me.  My first real connection to his music and message came in 1987, the spring of my freshman year of college when U2 released "The Joshua Tree". My roommate and I played it countless times and even today hearing it will evoke good memories from that time of my life.  Like MLK, Bono uses his voice both metaphorically and literally to "defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed. [To] rescue the weak and the needy; [and] deliver them from the hand of the wicked" as Psalm 82:3-4 says. And like MLK, his motivation for this voice is born out of his grateful heart redeemed by his Creator. 

I was born

I was born to sing for you

I didn't have a choice but to lift you up

And sing whatever song you wanted me to

I give you back my voice

From the womb my first cry, it was a joyful noise...

Only love, only love can leave such a mark

But only love, only love can heal such a scar

Justified till we die, you and I will magnify

The Magnificent

Magnificent

Chuck Colson spent time in prison for his part in the Watergate scandal. In the midst of his arrest and sentencing he became a Christian. He founded Prison Fellowship to minister to the forgotten and the thrown away in prisons. His book "Loving God" changed the way I think about prisoners, human dignity, hope, and service.  His radio commentaries on science, culture, and apologetics picked up where Schaeffer left off.

I was five months old when MLK was assassinated. His eloquent and peaceful fight for justice has as its anthem the Bible verse Amos 5:24 - "But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream."  Justice matters. People matter. Human dignity matters.

My favorite author, Clive Staples Lewis, died on the same day JFK was assassinated. During college his books showed me that being a Christian and an intellectual need not be mutually exclusive, and that the growing chasm between my faith and my intellect could be closed. This was, for me, a reconciliation marked by enormous relief. His influence on my life has been more than significant.

One of my favorite quotes of his, one that is not well-known I think, particularly inspires me. It  reminds me of my father's struggles with Parkinson's disease: 

"But if you are a poor creature--poisoned by a wretched up-bringing in some house full of vulgar jealousies and senseless quarrels--saddled, by no choice of your own, with some loathsome sexual perversion--nagged day in and day out by an inferiority complex that makes you snap at your best friends--do not despair. He knows all about it. You are one of the poor whom He blessed. He knows what a wretched machine you are trying to drive. Keep on. Do what you can. One day He will fling it on the scrap-heap and give you a new one. And then you may astonish us all - not least yourself."
Italics mine.

Football Schoolin'

I didn't know it but I was sitting on winning loto tickets - in a sense.

I had four tickets to the Baylor vs. Kansas State football game last night. Two of my family weren't interested in going, so David and I invited a couple of friends.  My friend, Brad, has coached football, played football, and I think, on occasion, actually eats footballs.  He is immensely more familiar with the game than I am.  Going to the game with me was, for him, like going to the Republican National Convention post-convention baseball game with European socialist tourist that only speaks French.

Brad and I in the cheap seats

OK, I'm not really sure what that meant, but let's just say it this way: he knows the game, I do not.

For instance, as we were in the Whataburger drive through getting some dinner before the game, he excitedly said to me "I can't believe you invited me to see the number one team in the nation!"  I knew enough to know that he was not referring to Baylor.  

"You mean Kansas State is ranked number one right now?"  I honestly had no idea.

Coughing on his double-meat double-cheese with no lettuce, Brad refrained from the opportunity to belittle my manhood.  I was grateful.  But I was also a little discouraged, since I figured that meant Baylor would lose badly.  This was the only game I planned to attend this year, and I didn't want to have my team down by, like, a hundred points or something.

You see, I am enough of a fan to watch Baylor play, but not enough of a fan to care about any other team.  I care about the school, not the game.  Well, that's not true. I also care enough to smile a little when Texas A&M loses.  Last year A&M abandoned century-old rivalries to join the SEC and get a more lucrative television contract. I think that represents the worst in collegiate athletics.  That and I think maroon is just plain ugly.

At any rate, Brad patiently schooled me on football during the game and I enjoyed it more because of it.  

And they played spectacularly.

And Baylor defeated the top-ranked team in the nation for the first time in school history!  I could not believe it.  I loved it.  It was the most fun I have ever had at a football game.  Thanks Baylor! Thanks Brad!

David watches the Baylor fans storm the field after defeating Kansas State 54-24.

6:8 technologies, a new direction

Oh Middle-Aged Fat Guy, what are you up to this time? Why haven't you been blogging? Why aren't you funny anymore?  

I have no explanations for the decrease in humor other than middle age and finally kicking that pain-killer habit. As for what I am up to, read on citizens, read on. 

Here's something really new in my life: I have graciously accepted an offer to join a well-respected local non-profit organization called Mission Waco/Mission World. For 28 years MW/MW has been practicing a holistic Christian ministry with the homeless in Waco, Texas. In addition to this, they do work in Mexico, India, and Haiti with long-term indigenous partners. They let me join up with them because I told them I could juggle and pick locks.  But of course, this is a lie.

In the town of Ferrier, Haiti, MW/MW has been working doing clean water ministries by helping locals drill water wells, maintain human-powered water pumps, and get access to water chlorinators and ceramic water filters. One of their main goals is to keep children under five years old from dying from water-borne illnesses. Sadly, this is too common. I'm eager to learn how they go about this and see if there is any way I can help. 

Perhaps, if the need is there, I could help them establish a solar battery-charging station for the chlorinator equipment or help with some other energy needs.  At this point I don't know how, exactly, I can help them, but I am willing and able to try. I am going on my first trip to Haiti next month to explore, support, and begin some new relationships.  Well, technically, I have been to Haiti once before in 1976, but that hardly counts on account of me being nine at the time. That's like saying you have been to all the states but really you only changed planes in Wisconsin. It didn't really count as "being there" unless you spent the night or got a movie from a Red Box.

So there will be a new program at MW/MW called Six Eight Technologies and I will be the program director. The name is in reference to Micah 6:8 - do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God. If technologies can bring justice, if technologies can express mercy, and if they can bring people closer to God, then that's what we're about. In this role I will be supporting the other MW/MW works, especially in Haiti, and will be developing some training materials to help people learn how to do the same in other locations. I will have other blog posts about what this might look like later.

I used an online logo generating website to come up with a logo for 6:8 technologies.  I think it's pretty awesome. It looks like an 8. It looks like an infinity (think eternity). It looks like rolling waters. It even looks like sixes, all interwoven and twisty. 

After I pay a fee, the online logo service will give me a cleaner copy without the blue squares in the background.  But I kinda like them. They make it look like it is drawn on engineering paper. Reminds me of lock-picking school back in the day. Nostalgic sigh.

More to come...

Blood Marrow Donation: Final Entry

Today I found out that my blood brother died.  I never met him.

It began, for me, back in 2000, when I registered with the National Marrow Donors Program to see if I could be a match for a co-worker whose daughter had cancer.  I wasn't a match.  But seven years later I was a match for someone else.  They called me up out of the blue and asked if I still wanted to be a donor. Of course I did, I told them, I had to blog about something.

So in 2007 I wrote about going through the preliminary procedures.  In 2008 I wrote about the process of peripheral stem cell donation, which was the type I underwent. You can read them all here, I recommend them. I was funnier back then.  I also wrote about my great half-uncle who won the Nobel Prize in medicine for developing this very type of transplantation to treat leukemia (really). Then in 2009 I wrote about receiving a hand-written letter from a man named Lee.

Lee was in his sixties, had a wife and kids, and he had been the recipient of my marrow donation.  The letter included pictures of him drinking coffee and being with his dog. He was a real person after all.  In his letter he called me a hero. His wife and daughter also included letters and they called me a hero too. "Hero" seems like such an exaggeration.  "Nice" maybe, but not "hero."  I somehow felt like I had deceived them into thinking I was someone else, or that it was a case of mistaken identity that I was impolitely refusing to correct. He also called me his blood brother, which touched me.  He didn't have to say that, but he did.  Unlike "hero" which has objective standards, "blood brother" said to me that I was important to him, personally.

[A picture of my dog to prove I am a real person after all too.]

When I looked through my mail today I saw another letter from Washington state.  I know very few people who live there, so somehow I knew what it was without opening it.  It was from Lee's widow.  She told me of his recent and peaceful death. It was a death that had been postponed a few years by this procedure, but eventually had come nonetheless. She wanted me to know. She said to me "You, Brian, will forever be in my heart and prayers."  That touched me.  The way she inserted my name in that sentence like that. It was personal.   To her, anyway, I was a real person after all too.

Wind Turbine Project, Part 17: Post Mortem

I have a great job. I get to teach engineering students about design and renewable energy. We talk about ways to use engineering to serve poor people in developing countries. Back in 2008 we decided to build a small-scale wind turbine to generate electricity.  We got the plans for the blades and the alternator online, but we designed the tower ourselves! Too bad it fell down. Yes, too bad. Too bad it continued to haunt me for years, an annoying reminder of my own limitations, resonating around in the back of my mind, a public failure. It joins the list of the most embarrassing things I have done that race through my head on nights when I can't sleep. The worst memories on this list are the public humiliations and high-visibility failures.  Like that time in eighth grade when my "girlfriend" and I were roller skating. It was a couples skate and we were the only ones on the skate floor.  All the adolescent eyes at Skateworld were upon us as we made the first loop around the rink. Brimming with overconfidence, I decided to show off my skating ability and turn around and skate backwards, holding her hands as she skated forwards facing me. It was a Scott Hamilton moment on wheels. I'm sure my eighth grade friends would have broken out in applause if they hadn't been so jealous of my coolness. Of course, I flubbed the turn around and did a face plant to roars of laughter while she skated away in her own humiliation. This memory still makes me cringe.

But I digress. The wind turbine project was good blog fodder for years and I have enjoyed going back and looking at my blog posts about it. They started in January 2008. My kids were smaller then. Here's a picture of the boys mixing concrete.

[The boys helped me several times on this project. Here they are mixing concrete. Great memories.]

[Here is the cool hinge we made back in 2008.]

[Here is the same hinge in 2012. The rust was the result of a design failure on our part. We couldn't see it, but water was collecting inside on an unpainted area, and it rusted enough to weaken the structure.]

[This video shows the wind turbine spinning and generating electricity!  I made this video and set it to the Kansas song "Dust in the Wind." Tonight when I watched it again, I was struck by the last lyrics you can hear in the video: "All we do crumbles to the ground though we refuse to see."  Is that foreshadowing?]

[You can see the tower broke in half and the top, now upside down, dangles by the large copper wires that were inside the tower. It sat like this for over a year while we talked to the folks at the farm where we built it.  Every time I saw it I had to roll my eyes with more than a touch of embarrassment.]

[Finally, we got the go ahead and the spare time to take all the pieces down. No longer do they stick up out of the field as a mocking insult. It was redemptive in a way, thought the concrete pads that remain weigh over 1000 pounds and are buried in the earth. We will need a jack hammer or a back hoe to remove them. That means they aren't going anywhere.  That's OK, the grass will cover them.]