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Top 10 Turntables [for Fun and Information]

November 17, 2016 ben videtichLeave a comment

I do not often write about gear. In fact, this is the first time. It’s simply not a significant part of the vision behind my blog. However, I have found a way to justify it. Within the world of theology and Christian practice there is this subcategory that I love called aesthetic theology.

While the phrase may sound complicated, it may not be so difficult to comprehend. Think back to a moment when your senses were overwhelmed with a surreal gratefulness and you just had to write or pray about it. Or maybe consider a time when you were at church worshiping and something about the hymn resonated with a deep part of your being and you simply felt at peace in God’s presence. If you’re someone like me who loves the outdoor world, think back to a time you saw a cascading waterfall or sweeping mountain vista, then think about the goosebumps. Love it or hate it, that powerful connection we feel to God through our senses and our imagination is called aesthetic theology.

For me, music is indeed a vital aspect of how I connect to God. I wouldn’t want to project this feeling on others, but I would certainly think plenty of folks would resonate with how I feel. Music, by its very existence, is a tiny clue, a step in the journey of understanding and trusting in the presence of our great God.

To justify writing about musical equipment, a guy needs reasons! Yes, vinyl happens to be one of my several hobbies, but I also need to keep my blog on point! Ok, on to the turntables.

The factors that go into my list are several, but in descending order they include quality, value, aesthetic appeal, and reasonable cost. Toward the end of the list, I compromised on the reasonable cost factor.

If you’re willing to put together a few hundred bucks, you can make one of these tables work long-term for your home audio situation.

1. Pro-Ject Debut

Without a doubt, you’ll come across Pro-Ject when you take seriously the search for a quality turntable. The Debut series has been an enduring product line that has diverse options for any number of needs. Starting at $299 for the Debut III and ranging up from there, these Austrian-built ‘tables will suit the needs of most listeners and integrate well with any home audio system.

I personally own a Pro-Ject RM5 SE, another stellar performer in the sub-$1000 range, so you may consider my choice biased. However, thewirecutter.com, a respected also loves the Pro-Ject as one of their best-rated options. A host of other reviewers agree, including Stereophile and UK-based HiFiChoice. It outperforms the other tables they review, and though thewirecutter.com selected another table as their “number 1” it was because of price, not sound quality.

Another fantastic choice if you like the Pro-Ject Debut is the Music Hall MMF 2.2. It’s made in the same factory but has some great features, even though it’s a bit more expensive. For the record [pun intended], 6 years ago, when I first got into viniyl, Music Hall was my first love-but they led me to my soulmate, Pro-Ject.

I wanted to give a solid nod to Music Hall since I didn’t officially list one of their tables.

2. Rega RP1

The British are fanatics about vinyl. Made in southeast England, about 120 RP1 units are hand built daily to meet the demand of listeners around the world. This particular table is rather similar in design to Pro-Ject’s Debut, with a single plinth [the big square part of the turntable that everything is mounted on] and hidden motor. It’s $299, which is ragingly cheap for a solid product from a reputable company.

The Planar 1 is another great choice from Rega.

3. U-Turn Orbit

I would be remiss not to mention U-Turn’s Orbit table. Made in the greater Boston area, and again, with a single plinth, they utilize an exposed belt. This adds visual appeal while maintaining the isolation of the motor. Oh-if you aren’t sure what isolation means, no worries, I’m not some elitist. Motors makes a small amount of noise that can carry through to the needle, and since the needle vibrates to produce sound, you don’t want your motor interfering.

Starting at $179, this is probably the market’s cheapest ‘table that is a serious contender in terms of quality. The tonearm is the low point, in my opinion, but the overall design is solid and needle upgrades are always an option if you are looking for more nuanced sound.

4. Edwards Audio TT1

Reinforcing every stereotype [pun intended] about our British friends, this table is strikingly similar to the Rega RPM1’s no-frills design. That’s because the companies are related somehow. Unfortunately, I cannot tell exactly how. Go figure it out, I didn’t take the time.

Regardless, the TT1 is a great table. It comes with an acrylic platter, which is good both sonically and visually. The big issue with this ‘table is with its solid feet, it does not provide much sound isolation. Meaning, you’ll need to keep this thing on a heavy, solid table and away from any vibration.

5. Audio Technica AT-LP120-USB

To my eye and with all my biases, this ‘table is hideous. Really, it’s a table meant for DJs both in features and appearance. However, I wanted to include it on my list because of two reasons: it’s a direct-drive ‘table [the motor attaches straight to where the record sits] and it does USB recording. I’m not personally interested in either of these two options, but some folks want to spin/scratch and do DJ work. Others want to record and import their vinyl collection to their computer so they can stick the songs on their portable music player.

Indeed, there seem to exist two kinds of vinyl listeners: 1. those who enjoy the tactile aspect of having a hard copy of their favorite artists and 2. those who used to listen to vinyl back in the day who now want to combine the portability of an iPod with the nostalgia of their favorite tunes. I fit into the first of those two categories. It goes back to that aesthetic theology factor; when I take the time to dig out records and fire up my tube amp, I just love every little detail that composes the experience.

So, against my will, I’m including this hideous monstrosity on my list. At $249, it’s fairly cheap, and it gets the job done. For all you no-nonsense folks out there who aren’t concerned about appearance, this ‘table does come through. I can’t tell where it’s made, maybe Japan or somewhere in China. Not sure, the corporation is enormous. If you’re looking for something more attractive from Audio Technica, check out the AT-LP5. It’s a bit more expensive but a lot less hideous.

6. Gramovox Floating Turntable

Made in Chicago, Gramovox prioritizes aesthetic appeal and simplicity. Yes, the ‘table sits upright, but that’s it’s one unnecessary-yet visually arresting-aspect. It’s purely minimalist design, very tactile, quite lovely with a walnut case. The other big thing about the Floating Turntable is that it is an integrated system, which means the speakers and pre-amp are all rolled into one. For $499, you get it all.

For some, this is great. Others, however, want to upgrade these components. If you want to upgrade, you are in luck-the integrated system can be bypassed. But why would folks want to do such a thing?

Well.

The pre-amp in particular is an important part of a system because it boosts the tiny signal from the needle and makes it loud enough for the amplifier to boost to the speakers. In other words, it’s a bottle neck within the signal path [the signal path is the route from the needle, through cables, through a pre-amp, though an amp, through more cables, through speakers, and eventually to your ear].

People spend money on amps, speakers, cables, needles, and pre-amps because all of these matter for overall sound.

Fortunately, with its bypass feature, the Floating Turntable doesn’t force you to use its integrated speakers, pre-amp, and amp. This is one beautiful yet functional American designed and built ‘table.

7. Trntbl by Vnyl

Ok, elites will hate me for listing this one, but hey-don’t hate, just read. This ‘table streams music. And it only streams music. Meaning, there are no cable outputs. To me personally, this is a big turnoff. But to others who prefer using Bluetooth speakers, it’s great.

The social features are where the Trntbl really shines. The unit identifies music it is playing-straight from the record-and allows the user to share this with friends or followers. Or, you can connect with others via Spotify and your friends can listen in to your music.

The Trntbl is available only for pre-order at $351, so it is yet to be tested extensively, but it appears to have decent components. Again, the quality will almost assuredly not compare with Pro-Ject or Rega, or even Audio Technica, but it has some interesting features that will surely stand out to certain listeners.

8. Pro-Ject RPM 10 Carbon

Twice I’m listing a ‘table from Pro-Ject. Why? It’s an incredible product. Yes, it’s $2999, and I get it, you have sticker shock. But this is one powerful and eye-catching means for spinning records. Look at that carbon fiber grain, the massive thick plinth, the belt, the sheer size. Plus it has an outboard motor which, just like an outboard boat motor, means the motor sits completely separate from the ‘table itself. The platter, where the record sits, is gorgeous and heavy. Gorgeous, because… well… people [like me, anyway!] love beauty. Heavy because it allows the records to play evenly without fluctuations in speed.

The RPM 10 comes with a heavy base to further isolate it from any sound or vibration in the room or neighborhood. Yes, jackhammers and construction equipment can indeed affect a needle. Plus, the base looks sick.

Oh-and did I mention? It’s tonearm is the carbon fiber Pro-Ject 10 cc. It’s essentially an upgraded version of the one that my RM 5.1 came with [props to me?].

9. VPI Classic

A new old-stock Classic table is currently around $2800. Yes, paying close to three grand may seem like a lot, but I include this bad boy in my list because it’s a beautiful example of an enduring company that really cares about the details. Like the Pro-Ject RPM 10, it’s a true audiophile table. I mean, for goodness sake, it’s 65 pounds!

Made in Cliffwood, New Jersey, VPI is a robustly American company using an old-school paradigm that prefers all-American components. They stick to their principles, and yes, they have expensive ‘tables. But the Classic is an enduring legend within the audiophile world. My father in law, John, has sold [and loves] audio equipment professionally and recommends this ‘table for the price point. Yes, it costs as much as a used ’01 Toyota Corolla. But can that CD deck compare with this hoss?

I think not.

10. Origin Live Sovereign MKIII Turntable

Don’t go buy one of these unless you’ve got way to much money-and no kids. It’s $7300, and that doesn’t even include a tonearm! But it’s one gorgeous, powerful machine. I won’t say a whole lot about it, but if you’re curious you can go learn more about it on your own. Once you’re into this $5,000+ category, there are a surprising abundance of options, and all of them probably have some great characteristics. Most of them look like something from the set of Alien or the new Halo movie. You half expect the tonearm on this one to morph into a laser or photon cannon. But, after reading the specs carefully, I’m afraid it does not.

Like fine wine, if you connect this ‘table to the same pre-amp, amp, and speakers, most of us couldn’t much of a difference between this and any of the budget models in my list. But then again, folks who buy this table are going to buy all of their gear commensurate with the turntable’s quality.

And they, unlike me, probably don’t have toddlers around.

This is only one of many elite ‘tables out there that are visually and sonically arresting.

Summary

Personally, I’ve hit my sweet spot. With a beyond-entry-level Pro-Ject RM 5.1, Jolida tube amp, and great inherited speakers and sub, my system is rocking. I doubt if I’ll change much, if anything. Maybe I’ll get a better pre-amp at some point or get fresh speakers, maybe a new set of tubes, but that’s way down the road.

My system looks good, yeah? I’ll fish for a complement. I’m not above that. Not a good picture, but a great system. I hid the pre-amp and all wires underneath, naturally.

Now if I were someone out there with a few hundred bucks looking to get a solid system going, there are numerous choices in my list. I listed the Debut first because I really do think it’s the all-around best choice for the money, well ahead of the U-Turn on quality [see thewirecutter.com where the Debut strides far ahead of both U-Turn and Audio Technica]. I felt like I had to list models from Rega and Audio Technica because they’re perennial picks for good sound and enduring quality. The Floating Record player from Gramovox was a playful decision, as was the Trntbl, though they are both great for particular situations.

There may be a few folks out there with $5000-10,000 [or more] to sink in to a system, so I threw in a couple highlights from the very-high-end options that exist. There are so many out there, and it’s not really my area, so I only listed a couple.

A great many more ‘tables are out there that I didn’t list, spinning or maybe even scratching away. Can’t list ’em all, I suppose.

Anyway.

Enjoy music, folks, especially vinyl. May it, almost like a sacrament, remind you of the God who created the folks who creatively designed these machines, who created the folks who make the music that they faithfully reproduce.

My Post-Election Thoughts

November 10, 2016 ben videtichLeave a comment

Well, as it turns out, I’m a bit naïve. And apparently so is the media-no one warned me about this election’s possible results.

Wow.

Trump won.

Clinton, Trump pick up big wins

Photo credit: Nigel Perry

For as long as it appeared Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Trump would eventually square off, I’ve been calling it a win for Clinton. Yeah, naïve, probably. Yet I am not the only one; many of us are caught off-guard. Not all headlines, but many, seem to say similar things: “it’s a shocking victory” or “surprise win for Trump.”

I’m thankful for Mrs. Clinton’s graceful concession speech, and I’m doing my best to be optimistic about the potential upside of Mr. Trump’s transition to the White House. It’s just really difficult for me right now as a Christian, as a citizen, and as a dad to see much potential after listening to the debates and hearing about the rallies.

Over the past several months I’ve dedicated my fair share of time tracking polls, blogs, the Twitter feed, and chatting with others about the eventual outcome. Since the results are in, I am searching for us all to thoughtfully move forward. I’m absolutely rankled by Trump’s hateful speech, his recorded bus conversation degrading women, minorities, Muslims, and the host of other woes toward about every demographic I can think of.

As a white middle-class guy, I’m sad and disappointed, and I can only imagine the response of women, minorities, LGBTQ folks, anyone less privileged than myself. With a net worth of 3.7 billion, we now have the richest president-elect ever waiting to take office on January 20th, and he arrives in office with promises of helping the everyman. Maybe he will indeed make America great [again], though I am personally unsure of the era to which he refers and for whom he intends to make the nation great.

To be fair, I do think Hillary has some egregious issues and untruths that polluted her reputation. And her inability to apologize sincerely did not help her leading up to the election. But I, like quite a few Americans, saw her problems as less significant than Trump’s. It’s a good thing we are allowed to disagree here in America.

All of that said, and now that you’re either bored or incensed, I want to offer some thoughts that will hopefully unite and focus us as we move into a new political era.

Here are my thoughts for moving forward:

1. Listen well

My friend Chris said this yesterday on his Facebook feed:

As I see the results coming in, it’s clear to me that I do not understand the experiences, values, needs and ideals of the majority of my country(wo)men. I have failed to listen deeply enough to stories whose hopeful ending appears on the horizon. Time to open my ears and take better care of those with whom I disagree.

Wow, Chris. You nailed it. He and I have similar reflections of the events, and wherever we fall on the political spectrum, we all have at least 60 million people who see things quite differently than we do, since that’s about how many people voted per side. In reality, the numbers are much higher and the political gap much greater than that seemingly large number. With each side feeling quite strongly about their own position, it’s that much more important to listen.

Progressives, listen to how Trump voters substantiate their vote. Conservatives, consider why a great many people are concerned about the president elect.

Listening doesn’t mean agreeing, but it does build empathy. Here’s a brief quote from an anonymous someone with whom I personally disagree:

Feeling pretty conflicted this morning. Extremely happy that Hillary lost, but pretty disappointed at the same time that Trump won. The left has gone so far left, that I could never vote for a Democrat at this point. However, now the right has shifted to a place where they no longer represent me. I woke up this morning with an easier life and a president that caters to me as a late 20s white male, but, did my wife, daughter, minorities, etc wake up with that same feeling? Like I said, I’m feeling very torn on this election…

I personally take plenty of issues with, well, nearly everything Donald Trump stands for, but the hardest thing is understanding how other people have arrived at a different conclusion. But again, it builds empathy and allows for dialogue.

As a Christian, here is something I’m bound to, from the 1st century writer, James [who many scholars understand to be the brother of Jesus]:

My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires. James 1:19-20

As a Christian, I need to get better at listening.

2. Pray

First, what I’m not talking about. I’m not talking about God-bless-America kinds of prayers. Clearly God is interested not only in blessing America, but in caring for all the people of the world, and nation-states are our invention. I would have to burst anyone’s bubble, but God is not American. Too often we conflate appreciation and support for our country with a sort of civic religion that subverts uniquely Christian concepts to praise soldiers that are serving the nation state. You’ve heard it before. “Their blood has made a way for us.” “Greater love has no one than this, than that a person would lay down their life for a friend; and these soldiers have done that…”

It is wonderful to be thankful for safety and grateful to soldiers for doing such difficult work, but let’s not conflate serving our country and serving God; those two things are often dramatically different, and they’re one of the factors dividing America internally.

When I say pray, I mean pray for people. Pray for people who are different than you. Pray for courage and strength for people who feel nervous and scared. Pray for renewed vision for people who are smug about election results and uncaring about how others may see the news. Pray for the peace and unity of all people, and certainly not just Americans. Pray for minority groups, whether you’re a significant part of one or not. If you are, pray for other marginalized people who share different concerns. If you’re white and male like me, pray that you can come to understand perspectives from other groups, then seek to live in solidarity with them, to give up power as Jesus gave up his power.

Pray.

3. Move Slowly, and Move Toward Those Who Hurt

I received timely wisdom on writing about the election and all its trauma. A friend encouraged pastors and other folks who want to write about recent events to pause and take some time before firing off a blog post or article.

I’m trying to take that advice. As I do, I look out the window, and thousands of high school students are pouring through the streets of downtown San Francisco in protest of the president-elect. It’s impossible to argue with their passion; they can’t even vote, as one of my colleagues noted, and they’re trying to live in solidarity with people groups who are struggling with what Trump represents. Surely there are other parts of the nation experiencing a far different response to the news, and that is part of the equation as well.

Wherever we find ourselves, my prayer is that we move slowly.

But we also have the opportunity in this season to move toward those who hurt.

I was speaking with one of my neighbors and her friend [they’re both 10 or 11] just before the election, and he was telling me that a young African American boy was crying at school that day. He was worried about the election and what it might mean for his family.

There were no words for that; no one can argue with a feeling.

I remember fumbling with my response, trying to be as optimistic as I could. Looking back, I realize I should have simply listened and sat with my 10 and 11 year old neighbors. I should have moved toward the hurt instead of trying to offer trite optimism. Oh, the things we learn as we look back.

Maybe you read about the young black child who cried about Trump being president and you think, “oh good grief, that’s preposterous.” Well, he was crying, and maybe he has some pretty good reasons to be crying. Maybe his sadness can be a reminder of how someone from a different demographic responds quite differently to the same results.

In the footsteps of Jesus, who moved toward pain in every step of his ministry and who advocates and prays to the Father on behalf of the hurting people of the world, may we too move toward those around us who hurt.

And, despite my many failures and foibles during this election cycle…

…may these changes start within me.

It’s Hard Being 13: Thoughts on Ageism.

October 20, 2016 ben videtich1 Comment

When was the last time you heard something positive about junior high?

Or, more broadly, about anyone who is even associated with junior high, like teachers, parents, or youth pastors?

As a youth pastor, I hear this all the time. Most recently, it was from a fellow pastor. At a church network gathering, he asked me how I serve at City Church. After I told him I work in student ministry, he replied with a very typical comment, eyebrows up: “pray for this guy.” He made sure to look over at a colleague for affirmation.

I get it. And I know firsthand that teens and tweens can be annoying or downright difficult. Though our boys are still quite tiny, I’ll eventually also know what it’s like to parent a teen.

awkward-adolescents

But I tell you what, I’ve heard all the derogatory comments enough times that I almost don’t notice it. Like water spots and grime on the windshield, most of us don’t even notice how severely we speak of young people. We just keep on keeping on, oblivious to what we’re saying and what difference it makes.

Two days ago I overheard a woman complain to her friend regarding some kind of incident with young teens, “the more junior high boys there are, the lower the brainpower; it’s a mathematical formula!” I’m sure it’s much different for us adults as we struggle with generosity, honesty, addictions. I’m sure it’s an entirely different for adults throughout history who have cheated their company in cahoots with a team of other sane adults. I’m sure it’s also a different story for the many adults throughout history who have collaborated to lead genocide.

You get the point.

People at any age can do some pretty selfish, damaging, detestable things. And yes, I could list bad things that teens have done throughout history. Or I suppose I could list atrocities older adults have committed.

And yet, we routinely speak so disparagingly to other adults about the irritating nature of tweens or teens.

Now I want you to imagine something. What if instead of talking about tweens we were talking about blacks? Or someone within the LGBTQ community?

Maybe you’re thinking, gosh Ben, you’re way too sensitive. Read on.

I recently attended an event our church sponsored confronting single-ism. Our group of mostly singles listened to a compelling and theologically rich lecture on the systematic neglect and marginalization of singles. For example, single men [and women, if I remember correctly] apparently earn less money than married guys. That’s clearly a justice issue.

Now I don’t hold in my hands the research to support my case than teenagers are systematically marginalized, but I [and most of us, I’d think] have the anecdotal evidence of this reality. And I’m not placing ageism-discrimination based on a person’s age-at the same level as other kinds of injustice, I’m simply saying it needs to be considered more deeply.

We also need to ask tougher questions of our own systems and prejudices, and extend our concerns to the young. Neuroscience has revealed how the teenage brain is uniquely poised for risk. And yes, it can be really bad-or really good. Or, plain annoying.

Allow me to remind you that you-yes, you-were once a teenager yourself. Yep. At one point you were probably difficult to parent, difficult to teach, socially awkward, academically unmotivated. Maybe none of those things apply, though, and you were the perfect adolescent. If so, my apologies.

I know I was a handful during my early teens. To this day I preserve memories of incessant talking during class-the second my teachers turned the other way. I remember refusing to wear a hoody in Chicago during October, a decision that didn’t make my youth pastor all that happy with me. I remember forgetting my uniform on more than one away soccer game. I got in a few fights even, believe it or not [very uncool]. I persecuted other kids in plenty of ways and created my share of havoc.

Chances are that all of us struggled in certain ways during adolescence, some worse than others.

My goal in this brief article is to stimulate deeper thinking on the issue of how we treat adolescents and, ultimately, to prompt small changes in our adult approach to teens and tweens.

If you’re a Christian reading this article, here’s something for you. In one of the New Testament’s smaller epistles [letters], Christians listen in on a note to a young man named Timothy. He’s a younger leader in the church, and his older mentor, Paul the Apostle, is encouraging and directing him in his vocation. He says this:

“Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.”

I could write pages upon pages about young people who have set an example for me in speech, conduct, love, faith, and purity. But I won’t. I’ll leave it to you to try a new practice in noticing young people who, though they are sometimes bothersome, are also examples to the rest of us in the ways they can be.

A final thought that strikes me as I move to a close is this: sometimes the way we treat people informs how they act. Yes, if we treat junior high students like incomplete human beings with no sense of how life is, they will likely act that way. But if we show patience and forbearance, if we listen, and if don’t look down on them, we might just impact someone’s life in a big way.

Or, I suppose we could keep up our old habits and go on making the same tired comments about junior high-ers.

Where was God?

October 7, 2016 ben videtich1 Comment

Everyone asks the question at some point:

Where was God when…

…my job was taken from me? …I was bullied in junior high? …when I…

The question is asked all the time. And it’s a perfectly decent question to ask. Even the Bible, the prime written testament to God, is packed with people bothering God about all kinds of things, sometimes getting an answer, sometimes not at all [see Hebrews 11].

I found myself asking this question the other night. After our older son, Silas, came home from a lice-infested nursery, we wanted to make sure he [and we!] wouldn’t unwittingly invite the little creatures into our home.

With my wife’s encouragement, I bathed him and applied the special lice medication I found at the drugstore and put him down to sleep with no issues. Until an hour later, that is, when he woke up crying out in pain. We know our son’s cries-that’s the mysterious ability of the parent. We can tell if our toddler is throwing a fit or throwing a lifeline for help.

The scenario we encountered was the latter: Silas desperately needed us. A tiny amount of the lice medicine had found its way into his eye and was now causing some significant irritation, far too much for a 20 month old to handle. We gave him medicine first. He slept for another hour after some angry tears. After another couple of rounds with cuddling, gentle words, and even a 2am bath, nothing was helping. He was enraged-and now he was struggling to open his left eye.

Kaile made it clear that she wanted me to go to the emergency room with him. I resisted for a moment, wondering if we had an alternative. Looking again, I decided it was the next thing to do. It was 3am. I was already exhausted [yeah, Silas has a new baby brother, so…]. Now I was hopping into an Uber car and making my way to the ER for Silas’s first visit.

Thankfully, things went as well as they could have gone.

But the night was hellacious. I’ll be feeling the effects for a while, to be sure. After I got home from the ER, Kaile and I prayed for peace and endurance, for sleep and for health.

Now our situation is certainly not so terrible. Lots of parents have gone through worse experiences than this, more consistently difficult issues than we, more overwhelming pain or inconceivable loss. I know our little troubles are minuscule in the bigger scheme of things. In the future, we may face more difficult realities-who knows how life will evolve. And again, this particular situation was my fault anyway.

But however good or bad our situation, we end up asking,

“where was God?”

Let me interject a concept from Scripture. The Old Testament contains a seldom-preached book called Judges that depicts the very earliest years of the Israelite people. If you read carefully, you’ll notice a pattern in Judges, a cycle:

Israel serves God
Israel gets distracted from God and worships other gods
Israel is enslaved
Israel cries out to God
God raises a judge [leader who spiritually and physically helps the people]
God delivers Israel

The cycle, while not occurring at every instance in this precise order, reveals how when good things are happening, people depart from God.

It’s not hard for me to see this on the daily. Who needs God when your 401[K] is off the charts, your business is growing, when you just got a powerful new job, when your car is fast, when everyone oohs and ahhs when they see your Viking range and quartz countertops?

While God can be so close and so needed during our difficulty, God can turn into a trite joke with the rise of a career or the fortunes of a business.

Regina Spektor said it well in her song Laughing With:

No one laughs at God
When the doctor calls after some routine tests
No one’s laughing at God
When it’s gotten real late
And their kid’s not back from the party yet

God can be funny,
When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious

The song concludes with the concept that we’re actually laughing with God. Interesting concept, lots of great thoughts in this piece of art. Go look that song up and have a listen. It’s worth three minutes.

Anyway, you get the point.

We all want God at our beck and call-when we need something, when things aren’t going as well. We want God to fix the issue of the job we lost. Right now I’d like someone to lease our apartment once we move so I don’t have to pay $2600/month for a place I don’t occupy. Makes me think about a good image for understanding God-a concept I’ve written about before.

God is like a parent.

We love our parents at Christmas, when they buy us ice cream, when they give us a set of keys to our own car. But when dad makes us do homework or clean the yard? Forward-thinking kids would call Child Protective Services! Mom wants us to go to church!? What about my freedom of choice? I’m 15 years old, for goodness sake? Clean the dishes, sure, but I’ll need to see an uptick in my allowance for the week.

We treat God the same way. When tough stuff happens, God’s a jerk. Conversely, when things are going well, we plain don’t notice God. I guess God’s a little different than us parents in this-at least we [hopefully!] notice when parents do good things for us. This happened for the ancient people of Israel, and it happens in real life. Silly as it is, there aren’t that many practicing atheists in foxholes. Agnostics? Well, sure, why not.

But pain often reminds us of the loss or displacement of something formerly good. The investment account that tanked during a bad quarter used to pay steady dividends. The painful divorce followed years of marriage that contained some meaningful conversations, maybe a couple delightful children. The cancer metastasized ravenously within a body that had flourished for decades.

People find their way back to church after a divorce, after the loss of a child, after news of cancer, after financial woes rise to undeniable levels. I think part of the reason people come back because God is whispering to our souls how much we’re loved, how much we’re missed, how much is waiting for us. A wise person told me the sunrise comes every morning whether we get up to see it or not. Is this not true with our connection to God? Does not God still exist whether or not we pray, whether or not we fail to believe that he is there?

As I think over the situation with our son the other night, I picture God caring for me in the same way I cared for my son as he suffered. Again, the analogy doesn’t quite work because I’m not God and I’m far from perfect. After all, I could have worked harder on keeping the suds out of his eyes-it really was my bad.

But I hope I continue to prove my love for Silas as I continue to care for him in good times and bad. I hope to model, even if it’s in an imperfect fashion, the constant love of God. Sure, I’ll fail him, but I still hope I can offer the tiniest glimpse of forgiveness so he can turn and thank God for his life and the blessings that surround him.

It was a powerful moment for me when Silas woke up with closed eyes. He needed my hand to get around our little apartment. Without sight, Silas was forced to trust me to give him the things he needs. As his eyes stayed shut, I fed him his whole lunch. What he doesn’t know yet is that his daddy is the same way. I’ve got to hold God’s hand, whether I’m making a life choice or just trying to get better at parenting [and keeping lice out of my house!]. I’ve got to trust God with things that are beyond my control, things that I can’t see.

I would be devastated if Silas lost his vision permanently, and I regret getting soap in his eye. But, amidst the chaos, I treasured the moments when he had to put his faith in me to the extent that I fed him lunch. Thankfully he is recovering, resilient little rascal that he is.

Maybe, moving forward, I’ll be shocked at how few bad things happen in my life and in my community and how much goodness exists in our crazy world.

Maybe, during seasons when it’s easiest to forget God and blame him for problems and difficulties, I’ll turn and say a genuine thank you to Jesus, even as he prays for the world and even for me.

Maybe, as I continue this path-my own spiritual journey-I’ll get better at asking the “where was God” question during good times and hard times, and learn that he’s holding my hand the whole time, feeding me body and soul.

Storytime: Maelin Hosea, Our Second Son

October 1, 2016 ben videtich1 Comment

Yesterday began just as the four weeks that have preceded it: Kaile felt heavy, tired, worn and I felt a bit tired but also overly ready to welcome a new life into our family.

I brought Kaile a bowl of cereal after Silas woke up [we haven’t set an alarm clock in over a year]. After she finished, she headed to the bathroom. Soon, I heard a sound I have heard so often over the past month: low groans.

The moaning soon blossomed into early labor. Quite similar to our first birth experience with Silas, over several weeks Kaile’s cervix had slowly dilated and effaced to four, five, then six centimeters. But with Maelin, the process took longer, and Maelin didn’t appear to want to leave the womb. A week prior, we had been at the birth center one evening for a full four hours, only to return home tired and disappointed.

Earlier this week on Tuesday, we had said our goodbyes to my parents who had been in town since September 17th. It hurt to see them leave, especially since we had such a long window of time with them-ten days during which we would have loved to celebrate the birth with their support. We had hoped their trip would be rewarded with the experience of meeting their third grandchild. But their time came to leave, and Silas came back home with us; we both wondered again if the baby would ever come. We now had the responsibility of caring once again for our toddler as the infant inside continued to wait, which didn’t exactly make daily life easier.

Back to the morning groans.

As Kaile continued labor, it became apparent that this was no false labor; this was as real as the moment twenty months prior when Silas was ready to enter the world. I called Mattea, our doula, then Julie, the on-call midwife at San Francisco Birth Center.

Earlier in the morning our friend Taryn had texted Kaile from down the street asking if we needed anything from the market.

Kaile texted to tell her were all set.

Not less than 30 minutes later, I called back asking if she could take Silas-we were having the baby!

The timing was no less than perfect. As it turned out, the window of time Kaile went into labor was in the middle of one of the few breaks Taryn has from her three children every week.

With Mattea, our doula, on the way, I raced downstairs to meet Taryn and explain a few details regarding care for Silas. She gracefully took him with her, and I fiendishly made my way back up to our fifteenth floor abode. Kaile was now retching in pain: contractions were coming too consistently to track. Kaile told me she was feeling the urge to push. I told her to breathe and, well, we breathed [heavily!].

I glanced around the apartment, picturing what it might be like to try to catch a baby there. Would the midwives come to us if the baby couldn’t wait? I called Mattea again to see if she could come *a little sooner*.

Mattea made some minor adjustments to her SUV’s velocity and arrived several minutes later.

Once again, the race was on, but at least now we were together.

The 20 minute ride down Mission Street, over to Franklin, then west on Geary felt more like 20 hours. We circumnavigated some a couple great hills in the city, and this challenged Kaile’s ability to remain centered, but we made it-and just in time. We made our way painstakingly out of the car and up to the third floor.

We had been hoping for a water birth, but since we were unsure of the timing for the baby, we hedged our bets and kept low expectations.

Nevertheless, Julie, the midwife, seemed to read our thoughts. She filled the large bathtub with warm water. Thankfully it had a high volume nozzle. Soon, I was in my bathing suit and Kaile was moving from transition-the final step in labor-into the first stages of delivery. In other words, our stressful moments in the car and our hilly trip to the birth center had contained much more of the labor process than we had imagined. And yet, she was doing perfectly, and her body was tracking right along.

I gave some pressure on her hips during the approximately 12 contractions she experienced at the birth center, and scratched her back in-between.

Before either of us expected it, Julie was preparing us for the inevitable. I subtly asked Mattea if there was a mirror. Since I was behind Kaile, it was impossible to see Maelin from my angle. Later I discovered Kaile wasn’t thrilled about the idea-but she was quick to forgive.

Moments later, I watched as a tiny head appeared. Even through two feet of water I could clearly tell our child had a full head of hair. Julie calmly told Kaile, “Okay, now a couple more big pushes; push your baby out!” That was the first time Julie had said anything about pushing-Kaile’s uterus had been working overtime for over two hours [or, more accurately, 10 months!], and Kaile had trusted her body to carry the process toward completion.

So that’s what she did-she did her first strong push. Joining her cognitive and physical strength with her body’s natural effort, progress became quite apparent. Julie’s coaching and Mattea’s words of encouragement were a soothing balm as Kaile continued her work.

She had been leaning forward on the tub, but Julie suggest she lean back on me for the final moments. She shifted, and as she leaned back, I held her legs out and toward me, allowing space and openness for baby to proceed.

Soon, I could see the whole head-and of course that was the hardest part. Seconds later the shoulders and abdomen followed, and before I realized what had happened, our infant, stubborn as he had been, rushed out into the warm water. Julie carefully lifted Maelin up and placed him on Kaile’s chest. A soft cry followed: he had exited the womb and officially entered our family.

A slightly awkward moment followed.

Up to this point, Kaile and I still didn’t know if our Maelin was a boy or girl. The only moving piece was the middle name. Had we become parents of a girl, the middle name would have been Junia. As much as I enjoyed taking in the moment, my curiosity was piqued: I had to know!

Carefully, I lifted up our still-purple child, and without as much as a trace of a doubt, I beheld a boy child. Silas now had a younger brother, separated by only 20 months [to the day!].

Kaile and I are both still processing all of the past few weeks [and year as well!], but here is a deep spiritual reality that I’ve gleaned from the experience. In John 16, Jesus explains to his followers that he would be leaving. They’re confused, as they often are, and Jesus unpacks what he means, likening his coming departure from earth to the experience of a woman in labor:

A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world.

It’s curious how Jesus uses the gritty events of life to speak to spiritual truths. And yet, though Jesus departed, he unleashed the Holy Spirit to be even closer than he would have ever been. It’s curious too how the Son of God entered human existence not through a magical appearance, but through Mary’s womb. Why the risk on God’s part? I don’t have answer for that, but welcoming Maelin Hosea into our lives reminds me how vulnerable it is to be an infant. It’s certainly curious that God chose to get involved with humankind in the same intimate fashion.

Our hearts had been longing for Maelin to join our family, and indeed he has finally come to us. And as we celebrate his presence in our lives, we are reminded that he is a gift from God, a blessing and a sign of the love God has for all people: big and small, old and young.

My Life Was Threatened.

September 29, 2016 ben videtich3 Comments

It’s true.

Just a week ago Kaile, Silas, and I sat down with my parents, Ann and Greg. We were in the Richmond near Geary and 19th at a little Indian place. Moments after we had settled in with our naan, chai tea, and tikka masala, I heard the man behind me speaking.

His voice grew louder.

And louder.

“I’ll kill each one of you. But I will spare the mother because of the baby inside. I’ll f*cking kill all of you with my bare hands. You’ll bleed out instantly. You don’t deserve to live another day.”

I looked across the table at my father, whose now-graven face and hazel eyes were locked on the non-gentle man issuing threats. I mouthed the words, “is he talking to us?” Since my back was to the crazed man, it seemed that turning or standing to confront him would do more harm than good. “I don’t trust that guy in the least,” came my dad’s whispered reply, still making eye contact with the man who had now stood to his feet, continuing the threats.

As my palms began to sweat, I thought through a list of possible outcomes: would he attack? Would I literally risk my life for my wife, toddler son, and 60-something parents? Am I really the pacifist I profess to be? Does self-defense count?

As the threats continued, my dad slipped out of his seat and quickly went to speak with the owner of the restaurant. In an instant he was there to gently ask the man to go about his day. My dad’s experience working in an urban pharmacy helped reinforce the wisdom of seeking a local expert, the restaurant owner.

Still breathing threats of violence, he walked out of the restaurant and down the street.

Phew.

Unsurprisingly, the fellow who threatened the four earthly people who know me the most was one of San Francisco’s numerous mentally unstable denizens: likely homeless, probably addicted, surely lacking in needs that most of us take for granted.

Yes, it was startling, but no, this incident is not typical in my life. I can count with one finger the number of times this kind of thing has happened [yes, once is all].

The experience made me think of certain Psalms that I’ve never quite been able to comprehend. Take for example Psalm 140. In the NRSV verses 10-11 read like this:

Let burning coals fall on them! Let them be flung into pits, no more to rise! Do not let the slanderer be established in the land; let evil speedily hunt down the violent!

Whoa whoa whoa.

That’s a little much, isn’t it David*?

These verses and others like them are picked over by skeptics: the Bible incites violence! How is this good advice for anyone-much less the word of God? Yeah, I get the reaction. Much ink has been spilled as an attempt to discredit Jewish and Christian faith on account of the anger found in the Psalms [and elsewhere, but that is another story].

Is it really too much? Should we toss out these angry imprecatory** Psalms and keep the nice ones that talk about quiet streams and shepherds and mountains?

I’d say no. In fact, I wonder how much violence has ceased because of these Psalms. Here’s the twist. The anger in these Psalms could just as easily be directed to the writer’s enemy. But look! It’s not directed at the Psalmist’s enemy; the anger is directed straight to God.

Indeed, many of the Bible’s Psalms came during dark times of loss. Some have come from very specific situations in individual lives. The angry emotion contained in these poetic phrases comes from lived experience, not from abstract or existential feelings.

As I write, I can almost hear a response: “good grief, Ben, most people don’t have that kind of anger, and if they do it’s just a mental instability and they probably need therapy.”

I don’t buy that for one second.

What if the anger came from a terrible loss? From genocide? From having lost a child to abduction or murder? From having seen family members shot or tortured? When human beings go through upheaval of this nature, anger is an inescapable response. You bet therapy is in order, but any therapist understands and counsels the wisdom of effectively coming to grips with one’s emotion and finding the best way to move through it.

These Psalms encourage those experiencing rage to find its proper channel: prayer.

Only in connecting to God can we become open to the true darkness within our own souls. Only in connecting to our Savior, Jesus, can we find someone who truly identifies with human loss-yet who also communes with the Father and the Spirit.

Ignoring our anger leads us nowhere, and acting on it will surely lead to further destruction. Consider the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. Desmond Tutu and other leaders helped the citizens of South Africa move forward after countless acts of murder, racism, inexcusable and unspeakable hatred carried out under the banner of apartheid. Little doubt some seriously angry pray-ers sought solace in a God who is concerned for justice yet allows humankind to be his agents.

Going back to my opening story, I’ve thought more about the situation. No, I’m not praying imprecatory Psalms and asking God to avenge me. The man at the Indian restaurant probably needs some antipsychotic medications, a meaningful community, and a sense of self-worth; he needs hope; he needs Jesus.

homeless — Photo Credit: Susan Ragan of Reuters

But the experience is also teaching me to empathize, in small ways, with folks, rather unlike my middle class self, who do in fact have reason to pray their anger to God. Take for example the family and friends of Alejandro Nieto, shot numerous times by San Francisco police in 2014 at Bernal Heights Park. He was armed only with his licensed tazer that he was legally carrying for work [he was a full-time security guard]. An example from a different perspective comes from the grieving family and friends of police officers Liu and Ramos of the NYPD who were killed the same year, 2014, in their police vehicle. Neither had any connection to acts of police brutality.

There are a great many situations that lead our hearts to a pure and unadulterated anger. Resonating with the heart of God, we desire justice and for the law to do its strong work.

And yet, Scripture insists we pray our anger to God. As we do, we remain honest to the depth of our emotions yet also to the hope we have in his justice. After all, Jesus was unjustly accused and killed on account of it. And yes, in his desperate hour, he prayed that God would allow for another way, but eventually his prayer went unanswered as it turned into, “not my will but yours be done.”

God hears, yet even Jesus, the Son, did not always receive the answer he desired. But, with Jesus as our advocate, whether we are ecstatic, underwhelmed, or incensed, we still pray.

And why not start with the Psalms?

Footnotes

*Biblical scholarship has opened up our modern view toward the authorship of the Psalms. Some are certainly traced to David, but certainly not all. King David most likely wrote some, but assuredly not all of these artfully-crafted poems.

**Imprecatory or its noun format, imprecation, are words used in biblical studies to describe Psalms or other passages that espouse anger and violence toward the writer’s enemy.

Religion Controls People [Quick Read]

September 25, 2016September 24, 2016 ben videtich2 Comments

The title of this post is a complaint I’ve heard from atheist friends. To be sure, there are many instances in human history when powerful people have taken the teachings of Scripture and used them to abuse others and gain power for themselves.

I lament that my own Christian faith has been abused for purposes of control.

I lament that atheism [Mao, Stalin, Pol Pot] is abused for purposes of control.

I lament that Islam [ISIS, Al-Quaeda] is abused for purposes of control.

The common denominator here is not faith. Nor is it the systematized rejection of faith we know as atheism. The common denominator is people. Scripture teaches that though we are created in God’s image [Genesis 1:26-28] we also rebel [Genesis 3] from God. This ancient narrative finds contemporary support in the everyday: why are some people so angry? Why are some people so gracious? Why do some people seek power and wreak havoc on the earth? Why, when I look in my own life, am I such a mixture of good feelings and frustration? How can a crime boss plan and manage a complex system of drug distribution and murder then come home to his family with smiles and hugs, remaining faithful to his spouse?

Pablo Escobar. William Wilberforce. Hitler. Mother Teresa. Kim Jong II. Isaac Newton. Idi Amin. Martin Luther King Jr.; these were all humans with capacity for good, bad or mediocre lives-yet some did so much good while others worked or work for such destruction. What controlled these people? What controls me?

My wife and I enjoy the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, and we find ourselves returing to Wayne Thiebaud’s fascinating work. Student is one of my favorites, and much better in person. I continue to wonder how this representation of a student is absorbing the world around her. She reminds me of my mother at that age, though of course I’ve only seen pictures. How is she processing the teaching for that day? Is she just waiting to be released from class? Does she hope to someday be a teacher herself? Do her textbooks do justice to American history or are they grossly one-sided? Does she feel controlled by others?

The South of Market neighborhood of San Francisco consists of lots of control. The economy in our city is controlled by marketers and purveyors of technology. Apple, Maserati, Coach, North Face, and H&M do a great job controlling where our money goes. People are controlled by the small smoldering tubes of tobacco or marijuana they inhale hourly. I walk by desperate souls every day lying next to a pile of needles, eyes rolled back, controlled by the powerful chemicals surging through their frail, undernourished bodies.

It’s my conclusion that we are all controlled by something, by someone, by factors we hesitate to name or by forces we comprehend all too well. Thing is, we need to discern how we are being controlled and who we want to control us. When we take a close look at our lives we see patterns of health and patterns of destruction, large or small; and these are informed by the factors that control us.

Looking to my faith/religion, it does indeed control me. My faith confronts and challenges me. It flies in the face of logic to love my enemy, something Jesus was adamant about, or to pray for those who want to harm me. Jesus redefines adultery by telling me that even secretly desiring a woman besides Kaile is the same as literal cheating. These are Jesus’s commands-is it control? He says some strong stuff! Give away my money, my possessions? My time? Ouch, Jesus; can’t I just keep it all?

I’m not great at doing all these things-just ask someone who knows me for an honest account of my foibles and failures. But I’ll bet people who have known me for a long time will be able to note how much I’ve changed over my years. I regress too, but do think there’s some overall forward motion. Maybe you relate to the pattern of ups and down that a critical look at our lives can reveal.

Attempting to see things as Jesus sees them, I try to imagine a world where people all literally tried to love God but also love their enemy, to give away their time and possessions, to pray for those who sought to harm them. I’d like to live in that kind of world.

What’s ironic is how the Christians I know are also the freest people I know. Free to feel, free to give, free to encourage, free to laugh at themselves, free to lament, free to admit failure, free to love.

So there-religion controls people, myself included.

The Moment That Changed My Life

September 22, 2016September 22, 2016 ben videtich1 Comment

Around 4am on October 15th of 2015 I lay, as one might expect, soundly asleep. Silas, who at the time wasn’t yet sleeping through the night, was gracefully asleep, as was Kaile. Without any prompt, I was awakened-and it wasn’t a midnight snack or bathroom visit that I needed. It wasn’t Silas crying out or Kaile bumping me that woke me. I’m a frustratingly deep sleeper, as anyone who knows me well will attest.

So there I was, awake.

And, I believe, it was all God’s fault.

To provide a brief background to the Fall of 2015, I had recently finished seminary and was working part time at a church doing music primarily, and part time at a Christian mental health hospital caring for adolescents from broken homes. During that season Kaile was staying home with Silas. But she had recently expressed that she was going to apply to several graduate programs for drama therapy, a program only three school in the United States offer. One was in Manhattan, one in Boston, and one way out West in San Francisco.

After Kaile told me she was applying, my heart was immediately not at ease. The weight of possible transition and change was heavy upon my soul. We had recently purchased a home and invested time furnishing it; we had amazing friends in the area; our families were both nearby.

Change? Now? And what about my vocational journey? We knew not a soul in any of the places Kaile was applying to for graduate studies. And there was so much gravity keeping us in the greater Grand Rapids/West Michigan area.

For much of the first half of October, I was not at all centered. I prayed fitfully, wondering about how to participate as a co-leader in my family. I spoke with a couple people about things. I peppered Kaile with questions she could not answer [how will grad school work financially? what about Silas? we have a house now, remember!?]. This went on for some time, not at all helping our marriage or relationships. I was stressed. And, quite honestly, I do not have an anxiety-prone mind. To a fault, I can be too easy-going.

But the stress remained.

Until October 15th at 4am.

Snap back to the beginning of this little tale, and there I was, asleep when *wham* I am awakened. No amount of careful verbiage will convince you that this experience dripped with the power and presence of God, so I’ll save my words. Plenty of folks, even Christians reading this may doubt me-and I understand why. What I’m saying is bold! But, I’ll remind you, this kind of stuff doesn’t often happen in my life.

Never before had I sensed God intervening in the course of my existence in this particular fashion.

Anyway, after getting up, I felt a push to go to my room and write in my journal. The theme was centered in my deep sense of peace. The tumult in my spirit was rapidly dissipating, and I felt a supportive sense of God’s presence.

Goodness, it probably sounds like I’m writing fiction right now. Hang with me!

After journaling for about twenty or thirty minutes under my desk light, I finished my task. Then I read a Psalm. I think it might have been Psalm 40-I waited patiently for the Lord; he inclined and heard my cry… I will sing, sing a new song…”

Then, I couldn’t sleep, so I read a book I had been assigned during ordination that tracked a missionary couple from the early 20th century [it’s ok-you can laugh!]. Within minutes, I was crawling back in bed.

The next morning, I woke up and told Kaile that I sensed God had given me peace. She told me, “well it’s about time!” and moved about her day. My worries had genuinely dissipated, and I stopped concerning myself about possible change on the horizon. I kept moving with my studies and my work.

I had peace, now, but no particular direction.

It wasn’t until mid-November that we had realized two things: 1. the best school for Kaile was in San Francisco and 2. I learned that I also had a tiny connection there.

At the end of November, I interviewed for a pastoral position at City Church, where I now work. I spoke with Fred, the senior and founding pastor. It was a pretty terrible interview, especially looking back on it. But at the end of Fred’s West Coast day, he had sent an email with an invitation to fly out for an in-depth interview on December 12th. The next morning, I received it early in the morning, having gotten up before Kaile for work.

I wrote her a good old-fashioned note letting her know we were going to be heading to San Francisco for a possible job opportunity. She texted me back that day and let me know that her [possible] graduate school had invited her to an open house-on December 12th. Probably a coincidence, we thought. Couldn’t be an answer to prayer, could it?

After the dust settled from the interview, our time in San Francisco proved deeply meaningful. But the job hung in the balance. The school hadn’t let Kaile know whether she was accepted. And, at the end of December, Kaile conceived our second child.

Then, things began to come together. Mid-January, I got the job. Later in the Spring, Kaile was accepted into the drama therapy program. In March, our house went on the market the day we left town to find an apartment in San Francisco. When we touched down, I got a call from Dave, our realtor, letting us know we had a solid offer on our house. I then disagreed with him [the only time I’ve done this] and told him maybe we should wait until the next day before moving forward. And the next day, sure enough, two more offers came in; a small bidding war ensued, and we ended up getting significantly more money from our bungalow home than we had asked-and well beyond what any of us expected, Dave included.

So there’s those details-maybe it’s coincidence? You be the judge.

[I always include a picture in my blog posts, so here’s your image-it’s from a day trip we made this summer. We traveled south on highway 1 in a friend’s Subaru to the beach towns Pacifica and Pescadero].

With our second child ~~two~~ three days overdue, Kaile and I are left with some time to process our lives and how everything has come together. Just today we spoke over lunch at a favorite local spot, Sweet Maple [strange name, I know] about the strange increase of answers to deep prayers we have witnessed in our lives. We have bothered God for a long time with our relatively minor and middle-class concerns, and we are both confident to insist he has responded.

It isn’t at all typical in Kaile’s life or in mine to experience a season of such lavish gifts from God [or, for the skeptic, strategic coincidences that resemble acts of God?], but honestly, really, sincerely: it’s a season of profound answers to much prayer. It’s almost impossible to list the answers to prayer we have received since moving out West. And apparently it’s not stopping.

In a few weeks, our family of [hopefully!] four will be moving to a two bedroom apartment in a much quieter and family-friendly corner of the city, thanks to another family moving out and leaving us with a good landlord and a great deal on rent.

In ancient times, people who experienced God set up altars [like Abram in Genesis 12:7].

In the 21st century, when an altar built outside our high rise might irrupt the neighborly vibes and compromise city ordnances, it might be more appropriate to let life events of this grandeur be engraved deeply on our souls, to blog about them, to talk and process with others about them.

I’ll return, in the future, to pounding on the *doors of heaven* as it were. I’ll return to bothering God with small issues. I’ll return to waiting and wondering. No doubt I’ll experience more of the spiritual dryness that has sometimes marked my journey. No doubt I’ll lose friends, let people down, miss opportunities, get sick, experience tragedy, have an accident. No doubt I’ll be frustrated with God, disappointed, crying out Psalms of lament as I long for answers. Can’t be sure, today, whether tomorrow will even come for me-

But for now, I’ll say thanks-and remember.

Pushed off My Bike: A True Story

September 17, 2016 ben videtichLeave a comment

There I was, on my cream colored 7-speed bike, pedaling my typical route. Turning a corner, I was cut off-a black Kia came within inches of me. The driver was on his way to the stoplight in some kind of hurry, so that’s where I saw him next.

Once the light turned green, he flew past me yet again, again with far more speed than was necessary, again cutting into my lane without a concern for my safety. Naturally, another red light waited for him ahead.

Finally, there he sat, caught by yet another red light at 9th and Mission. After all his racing and lane changes, I quietly rolled up next to him on my bicycle. And I mustered my courage and knocked on his window. As I did, I noticed the Uber sticker on the windshield. This guy probably lives far away from here and he’s in town to make a hot dollar getting San Franciscans to their lunch appointments, I thought to myself.

Mind you, I have done this before. It wasn’t my first time politely [seriously-I really try to be straightforward with people!] asking someone to slow down, quietly pleading on behalf of families and pedestrians and cyclists for drivers to lay off the gas pedal. The last time I asked was right in front of the building where we live. It was a young guy in a white Ford Mustang. He mumbled something to me, then when the light turned green he was off to the races again.

This time was different.

When I knocked on his window, my ring incidentally made contact. Without meaning it to, my knock likely sounded like a metallic cling from inside the car.

And then it happened.

As I sat on my bike, I could see the man inside angrily put his late model Kia into park. He stormed over to me, cursing. At this point, I was immediately reminded of my work at Pine Rest caring for adolescents from shattered homes. I have been assaulted a number of times before, just never in a situation quite like this.

“Whad’ you do to my f*ckin’ car man? I oughta f*ckin’ kick your @ss,” he bellowed, raging his way toward me. Caught in an awkward physical position yet unsure how to respond I simply stood over my bike. Before I knew it, he was in my face-and he was a lot bigger than me. His punch thankfully turned into a shove and he bowled me over backwards, and I collapsed on my bike. I didn’t expect to need my helmet while standing on my 7-speed, but hey-I’m not complaining.

Gathering myself up from the heap on the ground that I had momentarily become, I formed a response. I was angry, but I did my best to follow through with what I genuinely felt compelled to say. “Listen, I’m sorry man, I think my ring tapped your window. I didn’t mean for that to happen. But you almost hit me three different times. Please, slow down. That’s all I’m asking you. Families live here-kids too. You can go to jail for hitting someone, and I seriously don’t want that for you.”

As I said this, I realized a small group had formed on the sidewalk behind me. No doubt we were a spectacle on an already tense corner, Mission and 9th. A tough looking black guy came over and suggested to the driver, “hey man, you don’t wanna do this, why don’t you just breathe for a second.” A woman in traffic said, “man, you get back in that car and get goin’!”

I couldn’t believe myself. I couldn’t believe the situation. Somehow I was verbally deescalating a potentially disastrous situation. At the same time, I had fostered support from folks who had watched the incident play itself out.

After my impassioned request for him to slow down, he got back in his car. I stayed, letting the gravity of the moment sink in. Moments later, he rolled down his window. “You ok man?” he asked humbly. “You just about hit me three different times, then you knocked me off my bike!” came my response, almost as unexpectedly as my initial, gentler words. “Yeah, and I thought about it and I’m the one in the wrong,” he answered, shockingly apologetic. “Please, man, slow down ok? I’ve got a little toddler son and my wife is pregnant with our second. Just slow down-seriously.” “Alright man, I hear ya.” We shook hands through the open window, looking each other straight in the eyes. And he drove off.

And, walking my bike, I proceeded to announce to the curbside spectators that the show was over.

Go ahead and make your judgment about whether I should tap on car windows-that’s fine. It’s a small thing that I occasionally do to seek after peace and safety in my neighborhood, and it’s not the point of the story.

As a Christian, husband, father, and pastor, I’m now reflecting on my own actions and the bigger picture. Clearly this guy overreacted after I made the mistake of letting my ring tap his window. And I stand behind what I said to him yesterday.

I don’t often use stories from my own life as examples of doing the right thing. Usually I’m the butt of the joke and the one learning the lesson. Read any of my blog posts or listen to any of my sermons and you’ll notice this to be the case. But this time, I really felt like I did the right thing. No, not the ring-against-the-window part. That was my bad-and I faced the consequences.

What I did right was answering gently. The ancient words of Proverbs 15:1 are right: a gentle answer does indeed turn away wrath. Had I spoken harsh words, I would have surely stirred up more anger within a harried motorist.

But the more I reflect on the experience, the more I realize my response didn’t really come from me. Not the me who has got into fights and bullied other kids in junior high. Not the me who was suspended from school numerous times before coming to a saving faith in Jesus when I was 13. Not the me who is still repenting of his judgmental attitude toward certain drivers.

No. I’m not some vigilant, neighbor-conscious hero cyclist. But my unexpected response is reminding me that Jesus really has changed my life. In 2 Corinthians 13:5 Paul asks a question: “…do you not realize that Christ Jesus is in you…?”

Yeah, he is, and making a massive difference. He’s taking me on a journey toward my true self, toward the person I could be.

And he’s helping me to see that-and give him credit for it too.

Two Powerful Questions [and Mike’s Profound Answers]

September 13, 2016 ben videtich1 Comment

Recently I shared on Instagram about a guy I met at Civic Center Park here in San Francisco.

Mike.

Maybe you’ve met someone before who tugs at your heart strings. Earlier in life, I found it almost impossible to describe the feeling I get, and it’s still hard; but I’ll try. Mike was the kind of guy who, if he was being ridiculed or mistreated, I would want with all my heart to stand up for and defend. He’s the kind of guy who has clearly been through so much; no doubt he doesn’t have a place to hang his hat. Mike’s wrinkled skin, bad teeth, and dirty clothes masked a beautiful soul.

I was inspired to listen in to local wisdom and happenings in the wake of a “listening project” our church is doing. Find it on Twitter and Instagram with this hashtag: #wearelisteningsf. I’m not very good with chance or one-off encounters, to be quite clear, but my occasional personal awkwardness sometimes makes other people feel more comfortable. Our toddler son also helps, needless to say.

Whenever I’m out with Silas [19months] on a walk, I feel about 924.3 times bigger than I am. I’m not just another white 20something face-I’m tied to toddler, connected to a child with a bright and beautiful personality.

Anyway, it required an intense mental dialogue, but I finally got myself to introduce myself to someone new, and I interacted with Mike quite a while, starting with a couple powerful questions. They’re not at all original to me. To be honest, I have no clue as to their provenance.

I ask my students [I’m a youth pastor] these kinds of questions all the time, and they work for just about any conversation:

What was the best thing about today? And what was the worst thing?

Mike’s answers perplexed and astounded me. First, he told me the best thing about his day was how he was able to get up in the morning and see the beautiful world around him. Ok, wow. He’s already exploding everything one might imagine about the underprivileged.

His response to the next question was equally powerful. I had to repeat the question because he didn’t seem to have an answer. And, sure enough, he didn’t.

Ben: “Mike, what was the worst part about your day today?”

Mike: “Well you know, there isn’t really anything to say. It’s been a good day. I don’t have much, but I’m doing alright.”

As I listened, I realized how much I have to be thankful for, how I can creatively practice an attitude of contentment and thankfulness in my daily life. Mike’s words were a massive gift to me. His words put contemporary meaning to a piece of biblical wisdom found in I Timothy 6:6. It reads, “But godliness with contentment is great gain.”

Here, the author is writing to an audience who seems to be under the impression that religious practice leads to financial security [read I Timothy 6 for details!].

Mike gets it. He understands contentment. And he gets, at a deep level, the God-given wisdom of seeing everything as a gift.

And he’s helping me to get this concept too, as I listen to his experiences.

…Even though I’m not there yet.

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