As I have said before, the greater amount of context you have, the harder it can be to pin down one or two things you have learned from someone.  I would add that if you are driving to their house in a few hours it becomes even more problematic 🙂

The first story that pops into my mind about my father in law was when he was asked to do something during a family picnic.  He paused, but it was unclear why he was pausing.  He was then asked why he hadn’t begun doing the thing he was asked to do (I don’t have the foggiest what he was supposed to do – probably go get something from the house since his truck is everyone’s primary mode of transportation).  His response following is what I remember, “I’m just integrating that information.”  There is a lot of wisdom in that statement.  I repeat it often (at least in my head).  You don’t have to retort with your rough draft.  We can offer ourselves the freedom to take a breath while we think/integrate and it would probably soften everything.

Second Story: when Rachel and I first got married he gave me a tool box with a lot of tools in it.  Robbie wrote me a note about taking care of his daughter, about the tools he was given as a young man, about desiring to have had more given to him earlier.  It wasn’t a super long note, but it meant a lot.  This is mentoring at its best – tangible help, men passing to men what it means to be men, talking about and owning our roles in life.  The tools are also good – Craftsman.

Third Story: he and I were going somewhere when he mentioned learning that looking at things together for their upcoming Kitchen Remodel meant a lot to his wife’s heart.  He said something like, “I didn’t know that looking at faucets would be like a date to her.”  What is amazing to me about that is that from both Rob and Shirley (his wife, my mother in law) there is a consistent interest in one another.  They have been married over 40 years, and I cannot imagine what kind of commitment that takes.  It is amazing, and mentoring to me, to hear a husband of that long who is interested in learning about his wife.  They are imperfect, they struggle as much as any couple I’m sure, and as I write this I don’t know that Robbie discovered that through pursuit.  But, he was paying attention.  I hope I pay attention and that I continue to pay attention.

So, I was talking to Mom the other day and she asked me why I didn’t write about women who have mentored me.  She then went on to explain about how many women I would have to write about.  Her, My other mom (there’s a story), Rachel, Shirley (Mother in Law), my 3 sisters, etc.

Also, it just doesn’t process for me that way.  I have learned AT LEAST as much, if not more, from women as I have from men.  But the word ‘mentor’ brings men to my mind.  I suppose I think of it as specific to men and gender.

This is what my dictionary thing on my computer says:

mentor |ˈmenˌtôr; -tər|nounan experienced and trusted adviser : he was her friend and mentor until his death in 1915.• an experienced person in a company, college, or school who trains and counsels new employees or students.verb [ trans. ]to advise or train (someone, esp. a younger colleague).DERIVATIVESmentorship |-ˌ sh ip| nounORIGIN mid 18th cent.: via French and Latin from Greek Mentōr, the name of the adviser of the young Telemachus in Homer’s Odyssey.

I wish my name were Telemachus.  It would be sad to have two cool names though.  Blazer is so good already…  Anyway, that is why I don’t write about women!

I just read this on another blog and found it fascinating!  Thanks Bob for introducing me to Google Reader…

From a letter from Senior Tempter Screwtape to his nephew Wormwood, who is in training to tempt Christians (“Screwtape Letters”)

About the general connection between Christianity and politics, our position is more delicate.

Certainly we do not want men to allow their Christianity to flow over into their political life, for the establishment of anything like a really just society would be a major disaster.

On the other hand, we do want, and want very much, to make men treat Christianity as a means; preferably, of course, as a means to their own advancement, but, failing that, as a means to anything—even to social justice.

The thing to do is to get a man at first to value social justice as a thing which the Enemy [=God] demands, and then work him on to the stage at which he values Christianity because it may produce social justice. For the Enemy will not be used as a convenience. Men or nations who think they can revive the Faith in order to make a good society might just as well think they can use the stairs of Heaven as a short cut to the nearest chemist’s shop. Fortunately it is quite easy to coax humans round this little corner.

I was about to write about how the “mentoring series” isn’t going well and I don’t feel like writing another one.

But, when I signed on I felt like writing about my other big brother – Clay.  

This is not Clay, this is the actor who plays Chubby in Teen Wolf.  He is currently Clay’s FB profile picture.  I think Clay is pretty open with his FB friends, so if you wanted to know why he chose Chubby as his profile you should just go ask him.

Clay and I (and now Amy, my beloved sister in law who might be better than he or I) quote a lot of movie lines.  If we have been friends for awhile and you were wondering about the origins of my own quoting: look no further than my big brother Clay.  I lived with Clay starting when I was 8 (his mom married my dad when I was 5).  If he or I got to the basement first we would put on Ghostbusters (beginning, because we taped it from HBO, with Bill Murray/Dr. Venckman yelling at Dan Ackroyd, “Whoa whoa whoa whoa…  nice shooting Tex” – incidentally, “Tex” was filmed in Tulsa, my hometown).  If Carrie or Christie (sisters) got there first we would watch Girls Just Want to have fun.  We had that one fully taped.

If Clay or I were to see each other we might say, “This car makes a statement.”  And, then the other would say (with a cracking voice), “Yeah, it says ‘Hi I’m garbage!'”  This is a line from Girls just want to Have Fun.  Our favorite quotes are from Brewster’s Millions, Vacation Movies, Ghostbusters, Splash, Airplane, Airplace II: the Sequel, etc.  Richard Pryor’s “Moving” is not an especially good movie, but we have one really good takeaway from it, “Mr. Pear?”  “Yes.”  “How’s it hangin?”  Clay has shortened it to (when we see each other), “Mr. Pear…”

Clay taught me how to drive a stick shift car.  He rode shotgun around our neighborhood when I only had my permit.  Eventually his neck started to give out, and he got out of the car and said, “you drive around for awhile…  just stay in the neighborhood”.  So, I did; I drove around for about 2 hours and passed my drivers test the next morning in my mint-green 900s 4 door Saab.  I purchased this car for 4200 when I was 15, having saved with the dream of a Saab…  OR, I didn’t really know how to make decisions and bought the first car that was within my price range.  Clay acted with confidence that is really helpful from an older man to a younger man.  He trusted me to not drive the Saab into a house (or mailbox, like I did exactly one hour after getting my license).  He didn’t consult our parents, etc.

Trying to figure out what you may or may not have learned from someone you lived with isn’t easy.  Its a lot easier to talk about a book or a professor I think.  Clay also used to jump into the bathroom and yell if I was peeing…  The ensuing reaction from me was to pee everywhere because I was startled.  Then I would yell at Clay.  I would like to think I then cleaned up…

Clay is the older brother I watched with girls and with sports.  He took both seriously, and drove home the importance of confidence.  He had a lot more game than I did with the ladies.  He was a good baseball player, and would have been good at football too (fast, strong) if he had started playing sooner than senior year.  He also didn’t play a ton even though he worked pretty hard to improve at baseball.  My own story with basketball is pretty similar.

Confidence then, is my take-away if I have to distill our relationship.

My oldest brother Ruseell currently teaches Philosophy at Elmhurst College in Chicago.  He is six years older than me, beat the crap out of me (like all older brothers I’m told) when we were young, is my half brother through my Mom, and is still a great friend.

I had to wait on writing about brothers (next older brother will be forthcoming) because it is difficult to narrow mentoring when there is this much context.

Latter day additions to our relationship include the seeming ability to talk about anything, a psychological dialogue as we are both pretty reflective and pretty okay being reflective, and hacking sessions where Mom takes us to school on the golf course.

The formative moment that comes to mind is maybe my 11th or 12th birthday he gave me three books – the first 3 books in the Xanth series by Piers Anthony: A Spell for Chameleon, The Source of Magic, and Castle Roogna (I went on to read maybe 15 Xanth books, and probably 20 other Anthony books; especially enjoying the Apprentice Adept series).  I don’t know how intentional his choice was, but I know it got me reading and reading series’.  As I moved around fantasy, science fiction, historical fiction (also very dependent upon my Mom and Step-Mom who saw a good desire and always fueled it), etc I would compare it with the books on his shelves.  I remember wondering if Asimov’s series Foundation was okay (it was), Dune, and probably my favorite from this genre Ender’s War.

The second moment I recall was when I began learning things he knew nothing about – in this case, Hebrew (undergrad, yep, I am a dork who took Hebrew in undergrad).  I remember it because I passed a significant threshold in our relationship and conversation could now happen at a different level.  But really I was mentored to desire that threshold.  Do you know what I mean?  My brother always read well, in and out of school, did well in school (to my knowledge anyway), and was interested in spirited conversation about what he was learning and could learn from others.

So, the importance of the Hebrew moment was that it later impressed a Bridesmaid (She was Jewish, and when I found this out I recited Genesis 1:1 on the spot).  I mean, the importance was that Russ mentored me to care about learning, education, my mind, and the ability to dialogue respectfully but thoughtfully.

So – love of reading, love of education and dialogue.  With these, the lasting effect is one where I am not afraid of ideas.  I have always been confused when doubt is portrayed a certain way by religious folk.  Definitions are probably part of this equation, but I have just never been worried about ‘falling’ into some erroneous doctrine, some fact or lack thereof that would dismantle my epistemology (way of believing), theology, or overall world view.  Some of this comes from a professor I had in college also, but I think Russ set me up for success – with people, ideas, dialogue, and learning in general.  I can’t remember how into Facebook he is anymore, but Russ, if you read this, Thanks!

It is one thing to blog about my grandfathers who have died, and even my dad who does not (to my knowledge) enter the Blogosphere on any regular basis.  I did inform my dad of my thought process, but couldn’t figure out a way to explain the blog to him (or didn’t want to).

But, I am committed to encouragement and a productive look at where I have been mentored well.  I spent a lot of energy in the past picking through poor mentoring.  This was valuable, but I need to go the other way; at least for awhile.  All that to say: this blog is about Fred Lang, who many of you probably know.  HA!  I just got on Facebook to see how many mutual friends we have – Marsha and I have about 50, and Fred and I are not friends!  Hilarious if you know Fred.

I asked Fred if we could meet regularly because I wanted to meet with an older man to discuss life, the Bible, marriage, etc.  Fred’s ethos, at least with me, is more dialogue then “come, listen, be mentored by me”.

ethos |ˈēθäs|  noun
the characteristic spirit of a culture, era, or community as manifested in its beliefs and aspirations : a challenge to the ethos of the 1960s.
ORIGIN mid 19th cent.: from modern Latin, from Greek ēthos ‘nature, disposition,’ (plural) ‘customs.’  (cool and old…  just like Fred)

We discuss what he is reading.  I joke with him that he wants to talk about Justification more than I do.  This is funny to dorks like Fred and I because he is a professed Orthodox Roman Cal-Minian, or a 2.5 point Calvinist, or something homogenous, into the Spirit, semi-ecumenical; whereas I just graduated from a niche conservative Evangelical seminary.  See?  Funny to me, funny to Fred, probably not funny to anybody else!  It is a good place and I am thankful for it (my seminary), but I don’t exude the shorter catechism as much as some when it comes to these questions.  It is funny to our wives because their thought is, “Don’t you both just like Jesus a lot?”

We discuss marriage.  We talk about what it means to be in the church context so much.  Fred has been attending and serving in churches 3 years longer than I have been alive.

Sometimes we drink a beer together – Fred seems to be in a Smithwicks place lately.  I have moved from a Wheat-beer affection to IPA’s.  We smoke cigars of all sizes; Fred likes Partagas and I have been tending towards Gispert.

If I come with questions he doesn’t shy away from them, but if I don’t I always feel like he enjoys just talking.  It can go deep, or it can be medium (I’m bad at small talk most of the time).  We can talk books, sermons, theology; he recently sent me Dan Pink’s TED talk – which we tried to re-apply to the contexts we know.

The point is that Fred has chosen to mentor me through space.  And at every step what he is implying is that I don’t need to be mentored by him the way I think: Older man who knows everything to younger man who knows very little.  What I hear from Ferd’s Ethos (purposeful mis-spelling; ask Marsha) is this, “I’m older than you, and we can talk about this, but we’re just fellow traveler’s and I want to know what you think too.”  Frank is a slow-burn mentor.  Difficult to quantify.

I am more myself, or at least more comfortable with who I am because of my time with Frank.

I began working for Scott in September of 2003, and was lucky enough to continue that until Sep. of 2007.  Yes, I said lucky.  At Presbytery I mentioned the blessing of sitting under so many good men, but I called it luck.  The examiner said, “So Matt, you mentioned luck…  Do you believe in luck, and if so how would you differentiate that between Karma, etc.”  I was also asked about the snake handling verses in Mark – but this is all clearly another blog!

Scott is the first pastor I really got to hear teach regularly.  If you think 4 years, 200ish sermons; I assume i heard 150 at least (counting his vacations, mine, other preachers).

Scott did a couple of things I had never seen or heard.  He was consistent and always kept the Gospel in the middle of whatever he was preaching on(which he defined in several ways; but what I remember most is, “You’re a mess, but you’re loved…”  Probably more of both than you realize too).  His consistent encouragement was to preach the Gospel to myself.  The sometimes stated and sometimes-implied message was, ‘You do not believe the Gospel in a deep way’…  Or at all…  Or, there are these places it has not gone yet.  For me the most powerful illustration was his ability (and mine) to eat an entire box of Cheez-Its.  Scott has a psychological edge to his preaching (in my opinion), and he nailed me on this one.  I can do that (eat the Cheez its, or goldfish) because I do not believe the Gospel…  At least not in that moment, when I am so desperate to feel different that I just keep eating.

He had go to illustrations: his dog Sassy, Chesterton’s statement “I am what’s wrong with the world”, loved Zeph. 3:17, and Eph. 2 when Paul calls the Ephesians God’s Workmanship “Poema”, Eric Liddell and Chariots of Fire, Mariah Carey (who he would consistently use with the reminder, “She sold more albums than anyone except the Beatles and Elvis”) and how 1000 compliments did not outdo one negative remark, C.S. Lewis encouragement, “If you saw a person in glory you would be tempted to worship them”.  Anne Lamott’s, “I do not at all understand the mystery of grace – only that it meets us where we are but does not leave us where it found us.”

About a year after Scott left Riverside I realized that I was beginning to put into practice what he had encouraged us to do.  I am thankful; I preach the Gospel to myself regularly – I am a mess, I am loved (I add a line too, but this blog is about Scott).  A friend says that I preach a lot like Scott; I am flattered by that. 

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My grandpa was a WW2 Co-Pilot in a bomber (Claims Hitler gave up after he heard Jim Blazer had shown up), a salesman (mostly to industrial plumbing companies), played the stand up bass his whole life, had four children, and refinished furniture in his spare time. This is his flight school picture.

He is the kind of man whose relational weight will not be known this side of Heaven. His funeral was huge because he learned how to use his cell phone. And, as far as I can tell had lunch with every man in Northeast Oklahoma. He kept in touch with his flight crew his whole life, helped a distant second cousin with ancestry stuff for the Blazers, had lunch with his pastor every Sunday night for as long as I can remember (even after that Pastor built his church into one of the largest in the country). I believe he and Grandma began several support groups at their church – but I don’t know that that is blog-material.

He once took me aside and took five minutes to explain to me that my grandma is the funniest person he has ever met. It was a wonderful five minutes. I have since learned how true it is – my grandma can be funny through jokes, good-sarcasm, exaggeration, and pure silliness. My grandpa was more of a knock knock joke man. Last week my dad told me this joke. “I know two short jokes and one long one, do you want to hear them? (Do I have a choice?) joke, joke, jjjjoooooooooookkkkeeeeee.” If Geeps (my nickname for him since i was a kid) were still around he would be desperately trying to send that joke throughout Tulsa County.

There is more of course – more background, more about his father David E. E. Blazer (whose fountain pens are on my wall and whose business phone was 5 digits long), more about their kids… But mainly I remember consistency. He was at my spelling bee in 5th grade, and the legend is that he also mis-spelled “lightning” with me. I would have got it right had I asked for an example. I spelled it “lightening” as in “lightening in the load” ‘:} I ate at their house more times than I could count, stayed in their guest room frequently as a kid, always made him get out one of the 2-3 swords he had hanging around the house (or old Revolutionary War guns). Grandma and I played a lot of gin and scrabble, but Geeps was always there (usually in his recliner).

I appreciated him, loved him, miss him, wish I would have asked him to teach me more about refinishing furniture or how to play the stand up bass.

Geeps came to know the LORD late in life after listening to a televangelist – which really helps me to not hate them. I didn’t know him before that, and his faith was very shaped by Tulsa-Bible-Belt culture. But, I know that he knew the LORD, prayed for his family, gave away what he had, and loved as best as he knew how. Geeps and Grandma have had to see a lot of pain the past few years – probably no more than many of their age, but it was still hard. They were sometimes leveraged into bad situations they didn’t deserve to be drug into. But, this is what I know: 20 years after a divorce from my dad Geeps walked up to my mom and said, “Hey there pretty lady” as though no time had passed and nothing had gone wrong since they had first met in the mid-70’s. This was at my college graduation.

Once I was talking with another member of the family who was in pretty bad shape. I told him to stop posturing as a Christian, stop reading his Bible for awhile, and when he did read it to pray like the Psalmists who are so honest with God about their fears, hopes, anger, etc. The incident that led me to say this was warranted.

Geeps was 80 at the time and present for the conversation. He later told me he couldn’t sleep after what I had said, and that he got up later and read Psalm 88. I count that as one of the most spiritually humbling moments of my life. I am still amazed that the Holy Spirit would do that when I clearly have so much to learn about family, love, hard work, and faithfulness from Geeps.

He died in 2008. The nice suit I own I bought for his funeral. He would have been proud in a straightforward way. Not in the way that thinks I am more spiritual, but the kind where you are proud because you understand that this is clearly the vocation of your grandson and you are proud and wish him well.

There is always more to say. When I see Grandma I pick her brain about their early life, and about their stories. I am reading “The Greatest Generation” in hopes to understand the two of them a little more. I love and miss Geeps. Apparently I used to go up to him as a kid and say (all the time according to my dad and Grandma), “Hey Geeps, I have an idea, let’s get a book and read it!” Good thing Christians never really say goodbye I guess.