Yes. I’m going back to India in March 2010! This trip will have a different mission than the last. Here are some details:

• I will be traveling with the Arts Team.
• We are going to the village of Kalavai, in Tamil Nadu, India.
• We will work with construction teams in the morning.
• In the afternoons we will be traveling to concert locations throughout the village edifying a local pastor.

Some things you can do or pray for:

• Each team member needs to raise $3000 quickly.  Pray that we would be able to raise what we need in these challenging times.
• We are working with a Bangalore production company for our equipment.  Pray that it works out smoothly.  It would be much less expensive to rent sound equipment, instruments, etc., than fly ours to India.
• Contribute online by going  here.  If you have a gccwired account you will be asked to login, if not you can easily set up an account.
• Contribute by sending a check to Granger Community Church, 630 E. University Drive, Granger, IN 46530, attention India team.  Put the team member’s name on the subject line or include a note with the check.

I’d love to send you an email or a letter sharing more details about the trip.  If you are interested, leave a comment.  When you do I will be able to email you. 

Like many, this month is tight for us financially. I’m actually amazed at the clarity it can bring.

This month Caryn and I are keeping track of every dollar we spend. As we each left the car in the parking lot of Panera, I said to her, “You can spend the two dollars today hon.”

As I sat there NOT drinking a hot coffee and NOT eating a delicious bagel with amazing cream cheese, I actually felt a tinge of (don’t laugh)… Sadness.

Why was I sad I couldn’t spend a dollar? I smiled at myself and to God, thanking Him for the renewed focus on what was important.

I think sometimes I can comfort myself with the ability to aquire. It’s a byproduct of growing up in a consumer society I suppose.

Psalm 119.77 says “Comfort me so I can really live.” Read it here: http://read.ly/Ps119.77.msg

I want God to be my source of comfort. Not the temporary version that comes from the aquiring of things.

Maybe in January I’ll have a coffee and bagel with cream cheese.

I was just about to bite into my lunch and I noticed something: there was still a leaf attached.

I’ve never eaten a store bought apple that had a leaf attached from the tree. How cool! Then I noticed that under the leaf the apple’s skin was still yellow. You can just see it peeking through in the picture.

Made me think, how do I let the light of God’s Word change me? Do I look different where I keep myself sheltered from it?

I think I’ll enjoy more of the book of John while I eat my lunch.

How about you?

I was given a menial task a while ago that could take me a while to do.

Days actually.

I don’t do tedious very well. Tedious is my cure for daytime insomnia.

But, as usual, God sees things differently:

- It’s an opportunity to help someone. Gal 6.10

- I can be joyful, pray, and give thanks. 1 Thes 5.16-18

- I can sing in my heart. Eph 5.9

- God’s ways are higher, and smarter, than I think. Is 55.9

So as it turns out, my menial task can be an act of worship.

and I LOVE to worship.

So it’s been a while since I’ve blogged.  I figure by now I will likely have a totally new audience.  Life has changed a bit.  New opportunities.  New endeavors.  So I figure… new blog.

I’m going to shift a little in my writing style.  Call it the twitter effect.  I’ve been influenced by Twitter of course, and a few of those I follow, like this guy and this guy. I love blogging. I have missed it.

And I’m back.  I won’t write as long as before, but more than 140  chrs. 

Ever since I was a kid I’ve loved swimming.  I remember when we got a pool.  I seriously thought there was nothing better in life than being in the water.  I was not destined to be an Olympic swimmer, I just loved being in the water.

There’s that moment on a hot summer day when you stick your foot in the water and (the older you get the more exaggerated the effect) you’re shocked beyond your ability to sustain submergence.  You might say “WOAH!  HOOOOOWEEEEEE that’s cold!” or something like it.  But refreshment calls you, beckons you to get your whole baked self under the surface.  Inch by inch you torture yourself through…um… those “tough spots” (you know what I mean) until you are able to get your head under.

Or maybe you’re like me and you just dive in and get it all over at once.  I still believe this is the best way.  :0)

Eventually it doesn’t feel so shocking to our system.  You know the phrase, “Really! It’s not bad once you get used to it!!”

My kids have been trying to get me in my mom’s unheated pool all week.  I just don’t want to go through the system-shocking part to arrive at the gotten-used to it part.  Yeah.  I’ve gotten older.

But, as usual, God has been using this plunge procrastination I’m practicing to float some things to the surface in my spiritual life.

It has to do with the way I’ve experienced Truth.

Truth can be like that cold water against our hot skin.  Truth can be shocking to our system.  Truth can be hard to accept.  Truth can even appear impossible to accept.

When a friend whom you trust confronts you on something that you are doing that is just not good for you, the words of sudden clarity can feel cold and make you jerk away.

When you actually start to believe the truth that your spouse, after years of marriage, loves you unconditionally and sacrificially, it can be so different than anything you have experienced that with every inch of exposure you still feel a little surprised.

When you stand 60 feet high on a ropes course that challenges your fear of heights to the very limit, you can be awestruck at your own audacity to press forward and take risks you otherwise thought you never would.

Truth can be shocking.  But we are all starving for it.

We are bombarded with claims to comfort, success, and popularity every single day of our lives.  Advertisements promise asylum from your low self-esteem. Pills can make you productive.  Sex can make you secure.  Stockpiles of money can bring you strong peace of mind.  Books can make you better.  Clothes can make you cleaner.  Cars can make you cooler.  Appearance can make you alluring.

So we step in.  We go inch by inch wanting to swim in the truth we think we have bitten, only to discover we have quenched our thirst with saltwater.

I have believed in many half-truths.  Some of which I have alluded to.  Many I would never breathe again.  All of which have left me with less than I started.  Biting a lie you thought was true leaves a dent of disappointment that cries out for more comfort.  If we aren’t aware, we can attach ourselves to the next half-truth and start the painstaking process all over again.

Truth does not do that.

__

I can remember like it was moments ago when I first really understood truth.  It was much like getting in my mom’s pool to escape sweltering heat.  I read:

Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life.  No one comes to the Father but through me.”

I can remember realizing that Jesus was not presenting himself as one of the world’s religions, or paths to God.  His statement felt to me like dipping my hot skin in a cold pool.  His directness was refreshing and shocking at the same time.  Parts of me pulled back.  ”What about all those other religions out there?”  ”What about all those people that say there are other ways to God, or that all roads lead to God?”

I’ve wrestled with those questions, an inch at a time, slowly working through “the tough spots”.  I don’t have all of them answered, mind you.  But I’ve found that truth is as comforting as it is confrontational.  It is much more refreshing after spending time in it than it was revolting when I was first exposed.

Truth, like the water, can be unforgiving.  Truth, by definition, is absolute.  I know there are people who would argue with me, that’s fine, they are actually arguing with truth.

Jesus said what he did, lived the way he did, died the way he did, and came back the way he did because he wasn’t just preaching the truth or modeling the truth.  He was the Truth.  And everything I’ve grown to understand about him is that he still is the truth.

I’m up to my shoulders in the truth of his love for God and obedience to him.  I’m up to my neck  in the Truth of God’s undying love for people whether they like him or not.  I’m up to my ears in the truth that God loves me because of who he is,  not because of who I’m not.  I still have a way to go before I’m living under water.

But I want to swim.

I want to float.

I want to splash.

I want to do the butterfly in truth, eventually understanding concepts and applications that now leave me flopping about like a (pardon the illustration) fish out of water.

I want to use what days I have left to give all of who I am to this Truth.  Like throwing your whole person into the water because you already know the cold sting will disappear soon enough.

I want to dive in, go deep, come up gasping for air, and encourage others to do the same.

Because I believe in Truth.  I have chosen to put my trust in more than a concept or a program or a religion.  I have chosen to believe Jesus was who he said he was, and is who he says he is.

Wherever you are in this journey, I want to encourage you.

If you’re already swimming, thanks for showing me a few pointers and reminding me I don’t need to plug my nose.

If you’re still testing the waters, go ahead and dip your foot in the pool if that’s your first step.  One day, you too, will want to go swimming.

It’s summertime.  And I’m ready to dive in.

And… I think this afternoon I’ll finally act like my kids and give in.  I think it’s supposed to be hot this afternoon.

When I went to India in Dec 08, I became suddenly aware of just how self-oriented we can be as Americans.  I’m not just talking about being selfish, but self-oriented. It seems that if we are unaware of it, underneath the majority of our activities we have ourselves in mind.  We seek friends to add enjoyment to our lives.  We look for a raise to add to our financial status.  We can serve others while being motivated by the good feeling we get when we do it.

Through the rapid process of building intense relationships with these wonderful people, I realized this by contrast.  I saw the hearts of those we lived with and laughed with.  I became aware of how they were more others-oriented than I had ever been.  It seemed that at the bottom of their actions of kindness was a genuinely selfless love for others. I felt like they were better people because of it.

What would Jesus say…

If you had to rate people according to their good-ness, where would you rate him?  He hated religion.  He loved messy people.  He related to the poor and marginalized like few in history.  He touched the untouchable, taught the unteachable, and led the unleadable.  He lived as a poor man, yet had an impact on history so significant it changed time itself.

He lived the way he said life should be lived.  He predicted his own death and miraculous power over it, then it actually happened.  He healed sick people not based on class or prominence.  And when he did heal them, he seemed interested in their stories, and uninterested in the notoriety that such healings would undoubtedly create.

Even though he obviously had power enough to stop the trial that was based on suspicion and fear, he didn’t.  Even though he could have explained himself before the leaders who held his fate, he didn’t.  Even though he could have died before the cross, he didn’t.   Even though he could have removed that crown of thorns that was placed on his head, he didn’t.  He was self-less to the end.  Instead of spitting the venom of vengeance on those who murdered him, uncomplicated and unhindered forgiveness continually flowed from his heart through his mouth.  He proved his own words.

Even though there are those who choose to believe he was not the Son of God, few can deny that he was by all definitions a good person.

Yet when a follower asked him a question and called him “good teacher”, before he even answered their question he said,

Why do you call me good?… No one is good except God alone.

The words of that declaration seems to gain substance when I read them.  They jump around in my experience and stir up pictures of people I have called good.  They recall the tone of conversations I’ve had about such-and-so being a “good person.”

But Jesus re-aligns the standard, redefines the word, sets things straight.  Only God alone is good.

In my opinion, even on our best days we couldn’t reflect the goodness of Jesus on his worst day.  And he refused to be called good, deferring that quality to God alone.

–

The people I met in Tamilnadu taught me about the goodness of God.  Jesus taught me about the goodness of God.  And I’m learning about doing good, for goodness sake.

There have been seasons in my life when serving or volunteering was something I did, ultimately, to feel good about myself.  Maybe even to make up for something.  Maybe just to have a tangible experience of doing good so I can see my selfishness by contrast and learn to choose the higher way.  And there are times more recently, when I have walked away from packing boxes at Feed the Children satisfied for having done a good deed.

Though it is acceptable for my kids to end with that, I believe God wants a deeper level of maturity out of me at 40.  I believe he wants me to do it for him.  With my mind on him.  Less about the act, and more about doing it for the sake of Goodness Himself.

There’s this guy I know, he talks to me almost every day.  Drives me nuts.  If he were a twitter follower, I’d block him.  If he were a facebook friend I’d nix him.  But it’s not that easy.

I have to learn to live with him.

I am a recovering perfectionist.  I am striving to follow God and nothing, or no one, else.  I am learning in my life just how easy it has been to follow someone else:  Mr. Perfect.

Mr. Perfect is an over-inflated egomaniac.  He’s part of my personality (no, I’m not schizophrenic) .  I believe he started with a desire to improve, to grow, and to develop as an artist.

But somewhere along the line, he got out of control and down-right mean.  Somewhere along the line I listened to Mr. Perfect when he said, “Sit down.  Shut up.  You aren’t as good as so-and-so.  You know it.  Your gut has been telling you this for a long time and you’ve never listened.  It’s time to listen.  Sit on the bench.  Get outa the game.  Clam up.  Shut up.  And wise up.”

Told ya he was mean.

Perfectionism is common.  I think we all have a little of it, some more some less.  Artists seem to have it in great supply, but it exists in everyone.  Either it is pointed at the mirror or it’s pointed at others.  I honestly believe it is a gift and it neutral.  Left alone it can become very dark and have an evil effect in our lives, like it has in mine.

I like to call it “Mr. Perfect” and give it a persona because then I can put him in his place.  You need to understand just how powerful he has been in my life.  Mr. Perfect can literally keep me from the things I love most.  Writing.  Music.  Relationships.  Creativity.  The list goes on.

If you have your own Mr. Perfect (or his wife, Mrs. Perfect), you know the routine.  Anything you do comes under his scrutiny.  He can find the one thread out of place in a huge tapestry, and convince you the whole thing is a mistake.  He can kill a song because of one wrong note.  He can steal your energy.  He can shut you down in relationships.  He can take away the safety your friends are trying to give you.

In my life, Mr. Perfect has kept me from making music.  He has, and still does, keep me from writing.  But he’s beginning to lose his prominence.  That’s why I’m writing this post.  So you can know him in your own life, and follow Someone Else.

I believe each one of us is stamped with the Divine Fingerprint of God.  Part of that design and stamp is to have a desire to grow, to improve, and do our best.  Just like every desire, if it is not surrendered to the power of God it can become dark and foreboding, menacing and maniacal.   But if he’s put in proper rank in our lives, he can actually be a friend and help us achieve our ultimate goals.

Recently I was practicing some music for church.  While I was going over the piano part I heard a voice.. or had a thought… “you know… you can’t play as well as you-know-who.  Why are you even trying?”  And I said back, “Wait a second… the person you mentioned has been playing a lot more than I have, give me time.  And besides, you will always find someone who plays better than me.  I don’t need you reminding me of that.  That is not what it is about anyway: who’s better.  This is about God and playing for him and being the best I can be.  God is not interested in ranking.  In fact, he condemns comparison thinking.”

Since this is the kind of life we have chosen, the life of the Spirit, let us make sure that we do not just hold it as an idea in our heads or a sentiment in our hearts, but work out its implications in every detail of our lives. That means we will not compare ourselves with each other as if one of us were better and another worse. We have far more interesting things to do with our lives. Each of us is an original. Galatians 5.24-26 (MESSAGE)

Perfectionism run amok goes against scripture.  In the minds of some people, perfectionism compares itself to others to win.  Let’s call it Perfect Winner.  It says, “At least you’re not as bad as that person.”  I get hurt by this just like you do, when someone corrects you for the clothes you’re wearing, the hairstyle you choose, the version of the Bible you like, the songs you sing (or can’t sing).  Perfect Winner people have few real friends because they tend to alienate others by being so critical.

In others, perfectionism compares itself to others to lose: Perfect Loser.  This has always been my tendency.  It’s odd.  On the outside it sounds more… christian. (It’s not.)  This kind of perfectionism says, “You’ll never be as good as that person.”  It sounds like humility, but really it’s poison.  God says clearly “not to compare ourselves with each other as if one were better and another worse.”  Perfect Loser people have few real friends because they tend to alienate themselves from others by being afraid to open up.

I have asked God to take Mr. Perfect out of my life so many times.  I have seen the effect of listening to him and I have regretted my times of being locked in a closet as a result.  At the heart of Mr. Perfect is really pride.  Either he’s out to prove to himself he really is all that and more (trying to run from the awareness of his own frailty) or he’s out to bury himself to remain safe (because he’s trying to avoid his deepest fear, failure.)  When in reality, knowing our frailty is essential to having a vital relationship with God.  And overcoming fear is only done by failing at small things and learning you can go on, you won’t die, and God will not reject you.

Again, what God says on the subject has power to liberate the captive and set things in the right order:

This is how we’ve come to understand and experience love: Christ sacrificed his life for us. This is why we ought to live sacrificially for our fellow believers, and not just be out for ourselves. If you see some brother or sister in need and have the means to do something about it but turn a cold shoulder and do nothing, what happens to God’s love? It disappears. And you made it disappear.  My dear children, let’s not just talk about love; let’s practice real love. This is the only way we’ll know we’re living truly, living in God’s reality. It’s also the way to shut down debilitating self-criticism, even when there is something to it. For God is greater than our worried hearts and knows more about us than we do ourselves. 1 John 3.16-20 (MESSAGE)

Um, yeah.  If you’re like me and struggle with Mr. Perfect of the Perfect Loser variety, that phrase “It’s also the way to shut down debilitating self-criticism, even where there is something to it” probably jumps off the page.  If that’s you, spend some serious time loving others.  Get your mind off yourself and get available for God.  You might actually learn something about His love for you and others.

And if you struggle with the Perfect Winner syndrome… guess what… spend some serious time loving others.  Get your mind off yourself and let others come alongside you.  You might actually learn something about His love for you and others.

Seeing a pattern here?  Me too.

So I know that Mr. Perfect is never moving out of my life.  I think he needs to go on a diet.   He’s gotten really, really fat in me (probably because I feed him my attention and my choices too often).  I want to use the gift of perfectionism for what it was intended: to enjoy giving my best to God and finding His best in others.

By the way… I had to tell him to shut up just so I could write this post.

Go love others.  Start now.

We are all waiting for something.  Waiting for the weekend.  Waiting for vacation.  Waiting for a raise. Waiting for our call-back date.

Waiting to have kids.  Waiting for them to go to school. Waiting for the kids to come home.  Waiting for them to go back.

We’re waiting for the day to start.  Waiting for the day to be over.  Waiting for tomorrow.

We’re waiting for things to get easier.  Waiting for things to go back to normal.   Waiting for relief.  Waiting for a break.

Waiting… waiting… waiting…

If we’re not careful, we can let waiting wear away at what should be permanent.  A long season of waiting can carve away at our hearts until we end up with a grand canyon of the soul.

I can relate to that.  I don’t wait well.  I don’t wait well in line at the bank.  I don’t wait well in line at the stoplight.  I don’t wait well for answers to prayer.  Short waits make my muscles tense up, long waits make my faith weary and my vision shortsighted.

I remember a time in my life when I was very confident.  Disappointment, though it was constantly knocking at my door, wasn’t allowed entry into my psyche.  I didn’t have much faith, but what I did have I got out of my pocket very regularly.  It was enough to get me through each day.  I didn’t have enough faith to make it through 365 days.  I just had enough for one.  And I got it out, every day, for over 4 years.  Faith of a mustard seed really can move mountains.  Sometimes, they move one grain of sand at a time.  It doesn’t feel like the mountain is moving.  But you can see it moving, verrrrrrry slooooooowly.

I have learned that my faith had a limit.  Somewhere along the waiting trail I grew weary and stopped getting that faith out of my pocket each day.  I believed God for something.  I used to say I had a vision for my life, but actually I think the vision had me.   I was running on all the steam I could muster for a good long while. But then, gradually, I replaced faith with something I called “reality.”

I looked around me.  I saw Peter’s wind and waves.  I became sullenly aware of my lack.  I looked at others, whose lack I didn’t see so glaringly.  I re-interpreted my dream through the eyes of my own frailty.  And I let the water of time begin to wash away my mountain of faith one grain of sand at a time.  It was a canyon of disappointment and regret.

Hebrews 11.1 says “Faith is a substance.”  I particularly like it as it is here.  Faith is like a deed of ownership to something promised.  Faith makes fact out of what we know, but can’t yet see.

Now I am personally facing an amazing realization of a vision 20 years old in my heart.  I allowed doubt and disappointment to create a canyon, one self-rejecting thought at a time.  And God is now filling in that space with a color of His grace that leaves me speachless.

If you have ever done this, or if you are doing it now… if you have ever “given in” to disappointment, you need to know something about the Grace of God.  Sometimes we think that the realization of our dreams is paramount.  But God is into more than making dreams come true, or turning faith into reality.  God is into revealing himself in our lives, so that we can reveal Him to others along the way.

There is a substance that God pours into the cavities of our canyons of doubt.  Where we used to have faith, and now we are empty, God pours his grace.   Without faith it is impossible to please God, after all, because we must first believe He exists and cares enough to respond to those who seek Him.  But even when we lose faith in one particular area of our lives, God seems to want to reveal something more Him than us.   I’ve realized it is not my faith that keeps me in Him; my faith isn’t strong enough.  I’ve realized it is not my faith that coerces God to answer my prayers; God won’t be manipulated.

Eventually, if you fall exhausted because your faith is all worn out and hasn’t carried you through the valley of doubt, you’ll discover that God’s love for you hasn’t diminished.  Our ability to say “I believe you, God”, is powerful, yes.  But it doesn’t change God’s final love-stamp on the world.  Through Jesus, God still says “I love you, kiddo.”

Faith costs us something.  Sometimes we have to give up excuses.  Sometimes we have to give up our plans.  When we give up what we think is ours in return for what is His, we have real life and no regrets.

Doubt costs us something.  It costs us time.  It costs us opportunities.  When we give up faith and turn to our understanding (or reasons), we can lead ourselves to disappointment, disillusionment, and regret.

But God is the same through it all.  I could say I wasted time doubting.  But I don’t want to paint with colors that resemble regret.  Instead, I will say that I am more deeply humbled by the willingness of God to pour His grace into my canyon.  And I’m going to swim in it.  Humbly skinny-dipping in my own private Reservoir of Grace.

We are all waiting for something.  The promise of next week.  The promise of face-to-face.  So here’s something to think about while we’re waiting.

…without the water cooler.

Yeah, we have one here where I work, but this talk wasn’t anywhere near it.

The conversation started when one of my co-workers shared her apprehension towards the day.  There is an inevitable truth about these days; tension.  People are tense because of the economic climate.  Customers can place unrealistic demands.  Co-workers can get short with each other.   Management can point a blaming finger.  Subordinates can pass the buck.  Words fly.  Attitudes swell.  And it happens…

Posing.

We all do it.  We look for a way to position ourselves higher against our adversary.  If we are of a stronger temperament, we raise our voice in an argument and try to exert dominance by the the volume of our words.  If we are more sublime, we do the same thingby dogging each other in the misery-loves-company groups we establish with those of like mind.

This morning’s converations started outto be one of those.  “THEY just don’t understand that we can’t do the impossible.”  Or “They always blame me for something I have no control over.” Or “If THEY yell at me one more time, I’m just gonna quit.” And the response, “No!  Don’t do that!  THEY’LL just get what they want!”  Then, the mysterious “THEY” we kept talking about was suddenlygiven a gender.  We started talking about “him”.  I’m sure you have a “him”, or maybe a “her”, where you are.  (In fact, I’m fairly certain that I am someone’s “him”.  Just ask my kids.)

Then the conversation moved up a level.  What I mean is, we started looking at things from a higher vantage point.  Together, we realized we all feel a bit insecure about ourselves.  And we all tend to polarize when it comes to how we deal with our insecurity.  Some try to pose themselves against others with an air of superiority, making everyone else feel as outsiders in order to feel “in” or “okay” or “right”.  The other extreme is to pose ourselves as lower-than-tire-tread. We think we are worthless, and we live it out.  Neither extreme is right.

Let’s face it, left on our own we all tend to do what isn’t right.  We all tend to go to one extreme or another.

I tend to only look at my shortcomings.  They are glaringly obvious to me, somedays even painfully so.  Self-rejection can become my background noise.  When I see other people do it to themselves,  it grieves me.  When I see a person reject someone else, it grieves me.  I can see value in others, and my vision is clouded when I look in the mirror.

This is why I love the book of Luke.  Here is a snippet from the Message Daily Bible from the day I’m reading today (134, Luke 1.1-25), just the intro….

Most of us, most of the time, feel left out- misfits.  We don’t belong.  Others seem to be so confident, so sure of themselves, “insiders” who know the ropes…one of the ways we have of responding to this is to form our own club, or join one that will have us.  Here is at least one place where we are “in” and others are “out.”…The terrible price we pay for keeping all those other people out so that we can savor the sweetness of being insiders is a reduction of reality, a shrinkage of life… Luke is a most vigorous champion of the outsider.

Did you catch that? “The terrible price we pay” part?  Yowza.

And for me this comes at a time when I am feeling guilty for not being in my daily bible, for a longtime.  And on this particular day I am caught in the cycle of self-rejection.  Hmmmmm…..

Whichever end of the spectrum you fall to when tilted, whether you point the finger at others or yourself, we are all in the same boat.  And we all have the tendency to want to “savor the sweetness” of forming our own club.  It’s common, frequent, and spontaneous.  Membership in these clubs can be formal or informal  They can begin in a bar, in a club, at lunch, in a gym, and in a pew.  But even with their varied sub-cultures they can seem frighteningly similar. If I am completely honest, at times it can seem like the bar-groups are a bit more inclusive than the pew-groups to people who are looking to belong.  I am incredibly grateful to people like this person and this person and this person who work at honest community-building culture at my church.

In a moment, I’ll dive into Luke and his take on walking with Jesus.  But for now I wanted to share this pause with you:

In your conversations, do you point people up?  There are times when Wisdom best comes from Proverbs, certainly.  But I also believe that sometimes the first step in conversation is just to raise perspective, show the common-ness between us and our club’s ”enemy.”  When we see our Common Frailties, it can point to a Common Need.  A Common Need can point to Common Depravity.  And a Common Depravity can lead us to an Uncommon Solution.