Chapter 1
Sacred vs. Shinola
My dear children,
To begin, I have a confession.
Over the course of my life, in the pursuit of the things that matter most, the sacred stuff, I have settled quite often for Shinola.
What is Shinola? (pronounced ‘shy-nola’) Originally, it was a shoe polish first manufactured in 1877. In one of those moments when wit collided with wisdom in some old farmer’s head, Shinola slid into a colorful expression coined even before I was born. The old saying contains a word I prefer that you don’t normally use. However, in this rare and specific case it’s part of the expression I need to make my point. The word is a crude synonym for dung or manure. The saying goes like this, "That guy doesn't know “bleep” from Shinola." I know. The actual word is a little too fun to say out loud and repeat to your friends but try to contain yourselves.
This coarse and less-than-flattering observation was aimed at someone who had extremely poor judgment and even less sense. Its target was someone who could not tell the difference between cow crap and a greasy paste meant to put a new shine on old shoes. In other words, someone would have to be pretty thickheaded to mistake a fresh, steamy cow paddy for shoe polish.
I want to borrow half of that old saying and turn it another way. Remarkably, we often don’t know Sacred from Shinola. People everywhere, including you and me, fall for things that are shined up and sold to look real, solid and satisfying. When they don’t deliver we feel let down, sometimes even deceived. Exchanging Shinola for what is Sacred is the source of a lot of disappointment and brokenness in the world.
The only up side to settling for less is this: it can awaken our longing and search for what is true, lasting and soul satisfying. Deep down we are made for the pure gold, but can easily mistake fool’s gold for the real thing. As one of our great poets said, “All that glitters is not gold.” Likewise, all that shines is not sacred.
Truth be known, at times I could have been the poster child for that old, colorful saying. Honestly, I can't even say I was always looking for the real thing, the sacred, especially early on. Maybe the pure longing for what really mattered was buried many layers beneath my daily pursuits and appetites. But most of the time I just wanted Shinola, a quick fix, a bird in the hand, a high-gloss, tangible, unsatisfying substitute for the sacred.
My personal failings make your presence in my life an even more awesome act of divine grace and mercy. I don't deserve the sacred honor of being your dad.
By speaking my heart in ink to you my hope is this: that you will fall for Shinola less than I did - that you will not give in as easily to the lure of what is often a shimmering mirage, sometimes maybe even a good thing, but not the best. I pray you will train your eyes and set your heart on what really matters and be less scarred and more blessed.
I also hope that you will not adopt a defensive style of keeping the world at arms length; after all, this world is God's magnificent creation and holds such beauty and goodness and glory. Above all, it is my highest hope that you develop an appetite for something deeper, a passion for what is real, of true value, and which is always stirring below the surface of every day life and within everyone you meet.
From my vantage point just a little farther down the road from you, I want to prepare you for some of the Shinola peddlers you will meet, much like an early TV character, Andy Griffith, does for his son Opie. We have watched the episode where a hobo, played by Buddy Ebsen, "adjusts" Opie's value system. The hobo instructs Andy's son in the fine art of living off the land, like “borrowing”, actually, stealing pies and chickens. He puts off work till tomorrow if there is fishing to be done today and “frees” gumballs from the machine with only a magic word, 'Tuscaroara,” (and a pry tool kept cleverly out of sight). Andy, a father much wiser than I, finally confronts the hobo:
Andy: It's about Opie.
Hobo: Something wrong?
Andy: Well, there seems to be something wrong with Opie's thinkin’. He's gotten a little twisted on things lately, like being able to tell the difference between right and wrong. Not that that's an easy thing, there's a lot of grownups still strugglin' with that same problem, but it's especially difficult for a youngster, cause things rub off on 'em so easy.
Hobo: I see, are you suggestin’ I may be not too fit company for Opie?
Andy: That would seem the case.
Hobo: Well, Sheriff, maybe I do look at things a little different than other people. Is that wrong? I live by my wits. I'm not above bendin’ the law now and then to keep clothes on my back or food in my stomach. I live the kind of life other people would just love to live, if they only had the courage. Who's to say that the boy would be happier your way or mine? Why not let him decide?
Andy: No, I'm afraid it don't work 'at way. You can't let a young'un decide for himself. He'll grab the first flashy thing with shiny ribbons on it. Then when he finds out there's a hook in it, it's too late. Wrong ideas come packaged with so much glitter it's hard to convince 'em that other things might be better in the long run. And all a parent can do is say, 'wait' and 'trust me' and try to keep temptation away.
Hobo: That means that you're inviting me to leave?
Andy: That's right.
Hobo: Well, You're wearin’ the badge so - I leave. That wasn't so difficult. Your problem's solved.
Andy: That's where you're wrong. That boy thinks just about everything you do is perfect. So my problem's just beginning. You've left behind an awful lot of unscramblin’ to be done.
The hobo is, in fact, a Shinola peddler, just one of the many you will run into. He is apparently a harmless, even likable fellow, like most you will meet. But he is a master of the old verbal slight of hand. He shamelessly trots out the noble word “courage” to whitewash his bravado. (More on that later in the letter “Courage vs. Bravado”) He drapes his own selfishness in a flag of freedom, which gives him a license to blur the lines between another man's chicken and his own needs. And perhaps the oldest shell game of them all - he flies his highest banner, 'happiness' - his own, as the best reason for the way he lives.
Today, personal happiness is widely accepted as one of the chief purposes and rights of life. Talk about a terrible candidate for a musketeer - the hobo’s motto is obvious: "All for one and the one is me." Is it any wonder he is a drifter and alone?
Andy has seen his type and steps in. You see, Sheriff Taylor knows that freedom without a moral compass is just another form of slavery - slavery to self. This can cause complete blindness to the worth and dignity of the other person whose chicken or parking space, spouse or hard-earned dollar is taken for one's own personal benefit or agenda. As a sheriff and a father his job is to protect and to serve. So, that’s what Andy does, in his own gracious but direct way.
For some time now, to protect and serve you, your mother and I have done most of the deciding. Early on, we did nearly all of it. For a season the word you probably heard most from us was, “No.” You will soon do all the deciding for yourselves. All along the way you will run into a lot of flashy things polished up in Shinola, buffed to a high gloss, and passed off as the real deal, new and improved. You will be made to doubt if you can live, and be truly happy, successful, secure, ‘modern’ or smart without it. And you will have to decide. My hope is that you will see these fakes for what they are - less than essential, far less than sacred - and you will not settle for less, as much I have - and choose the best - better than I did.
By divine help and trial and error, I hope you will see through the glitter and the slick pitch from a hobo or huckster, a politician or preacher, a pretty face or the most powerful of them all - the little Goliath living inside your head. This one rarely sleeps – tries to appear so reliable and loyal – and always argues eloquently for your best interest. This constant companion is a majority partner in the law firm of My, Me and Mine - your strongest, most persistent and resourceful ally - your 'self' sometimes called our “ego”. (More on that later in the letter “Dignity vs. Ego”)
Do I think you will perfectly apply all of what you take from any insight carved from my experience? Of course not. Unfortunately, blind spots, like many other things I have passed on to you, are embedded in your genes. Fortunately, unlike the leopard, we can, with God's help, change our spots. Another William wrote:
“To err is human; to forgive divine.” Shakespeare
The regret and hollowness that lingered after some of my own poor choices may not teach you like it did me. Many of the things I tell you in these pages may not ring true until you settle for less in some area and feel very painfully the let down or sting of your choice. I fully expect you will learn from the hollow feeling or hunger that prowls within you after sometimes choosing the dazzle of temporary satisfactions over the solid sacred realities. Sometimes, a lot times:
“Experienta est magister ultimum” (Roman proverb)
Experience is the best teacher.
I only hope some of what I offer here moves you along faster and farther - that your sight and insight will be keener than mine – to sniff out Shinola better - to sense what’s sacred sooner – and to choose more decisively. I hope your journey will be less driven by external winds or internal, momentary cravings, and instead be guided more by an early passion for the holy treasures of life.
I hope all this because one of the most sacred things to me - is you - and the condition and outcome of your soul and spirit. Come what may, you have my unshakable love and support. All I ask is that you consider the following as traveling notes, offered from someone who is cheering and praying for you. As you set your own course for life, liberty and the pursuit of what really matters, I pray something in these pages helps you walk more confidently into that future, whatever life throws in your path, and onto your shoes.
Sacred vs. Shinola
My dear children,
To begin, I have a confession.
Over the course of my life, in the pursuit of the things that matter most, the sacred stuff, I have settled quite often for Shinola.
What is Shinola? (pronounced ‘shy-nola’) Originally, it was a shoe polish first manufactured in 1877. In one of those moments when wit collided with wisdom in some old farmer’s head, Shinola slid into a colorful expression coined even before I was born. The old saying contains a word I prefer that you don’t normally use. However, in this rare and specific case it’s part of the expression I need to make my point. The word is a crude synonym for dung or manure. The saying goes like this, "That guy doesn't know “bleep” from Shinola." I know. The actual word is a little too fun to say out loud and repeat to your friends but try to contain yourselves.
This coarse and less-than-flattering observation was aimed at someone who had extremely poor judgment and even less sense. Its target was someone who could not tell the difference between cow crap and a greasy paste meant to put a new shine on old shoes. In other words, someone would have to be pretty thickheaded to mistake a fresh, steamy cow paddy for shoe polish.
I want to borrow half of that old saying and turn it another way. Remarkably, we often don’t know Sacred from Shinola. People everywhere, including you and me, fall for things that are shined up and sold to look real, solid and satisfying. When they don’t deliver we feel let down, sometimes even deceived. Exchanging Shinola for what is Sacred is the source of a lot of disappointment and brokenness in the world.
The only up side to settling for less is this: it can awaken our longing and search for what is true, lasting and soul satisfying. Deep down we are made for the pure gold, but can easily mistake fool’s gold for the real thing. As one of our great poets said, “All that glitters is not gold.” Likewise, all that shines is not sacred.
Truth be known, at times I could have been the poster child for that old, colorful saying. Honestly, I can't even say I was always looking for the real thing, the sacred, especially early on. Maybe the pure longing for what really mattered was buried many layers beneath my daily pursuits and appetites. But most of the time I just wanted Shinola, a quick fix, a bird in the hand, a high-gloss, tangible, unsatisfying substitute for the sacred.
My personal failings make your presence in my life an even more awesome act of divine grace and mercy. I don't deserve the sacred honor of being your dad.
By speaking my heart in ink to you my hope is this: that you will fall for Shinola less than I did - that you will not give in as easily to the lure of what is often a shimmering mirage, sometimes maybe even a good thing, but not the best. I pray you will train your eyes and set your heart on what really matters and be less scarred and more blessed.
I also hope that you will not adopt a defensive style of keeping the world at arms length; after all, this world is God's magnificent creation and holds such beauty and goodness and glory. Above all, it is my highest hope that you develop an appetite for something deeper, a passion for what is real, of true value, and which is always stirring below the surface of every day life and within everyone you meet.
From my vantage point just a little farther down the road from you, I want to prepare you for some of the Shinola peddlers you will meet, much like an early TV character, Andy Griffith, does for his son Opie. We have watched the episode where a hobo, played by Buddy Ebsen, "adjusts" Opie's value system. The hobo instructs Andy's son in the fine art of living off the land, like “borrowing”, actually, stealing pies and chickens. He puts off work till tomorrow if there is fishing to be done today and “frees” gumballs from the machine with only a magic word, 'Tuscaroara,” (and a pry tool kept cleverly out of sight). Andy, a father much wiser than I, finally confronts the hobo:
Andy: It's about Opie.
Hobo: Something wrong?
Andy: Well, there seems to be something wrong with Opie's thinkin’. He's gotten a little twisted on things lately, like being able to tell the difference between right and wrong. Not that that's an easy thing, there's a lot of grownups still strugglin' with that same problem, but it's especially difficult for a youngster, cause things rub off on 'em so easy.
Hobo: I see, are you suggestin’ I may be not too fit company for Opie?
Andy: That would seem the case.
Hobo: Well, Sheriff, maybe I do look at things a little different than other people. Is that wrong? I live by my wits. I'm not above bendin’ the law now and then to keep clothes on my back or food in my stomach. I live the kind of life other people would just love to live, if they only had the courage. Who's to say that the boy would be happier your way or mine? Why not let him decide?
Andy: No, I'm afraid it don't work 'at way. You can't let a young'un decide for himself. He'll grab the first flashy thing with shiny ribbons on it. Then when he finds out there's a hook in it, it's too late. Wrong ideas come packaged with so much glitter it's hard to convince 'em that other things might be better in the long run. And all a parent can do is say, 'wait' and 'trust me' and try to keep temptation away.
Hobo: That means that you're inviting me to leave?
Andy: That's right.
Hobo: Well, You're wearin’ the badge so - I leave. That wasn't so difficult. Your problem's solved.
Andy: That's where you're wrong. That boy thinks just about everything you do is perfect. So my problem's just beginning. You've left behind an awful lot of unscramblin’ to be done.
The hobo is, in fact, a Shinola peddler, just one of the many you will run into. He is apparently a harmless, even likable fellow, like most you will meet. But he is a master of the old verbal slight of hand. He shamelessly trots out the noble word “courage” to whitewash his bravado. (More on that later in the letter “Courage vs. Bravado”) He drapes his own selfishness in a flag of freedom, which gives him a license to blur the lines between another man's chicken and his own needs. And perhaps the oldest shell game of them all - he flies his highest banner, 'happiness' - his own, as the best reason for the way he lives.
Today, personal happiness is widely accepted as one of the chief purposes and rights of life. Talk about a terrible candidate for a musketeer - the hobo’s motto is obvious: "All for one and the one is me." Is it any wonder he is a drifter and alone?
Andy has seen his type and steps in. You see, Sheriff Taylor knows that freedom without a moral compass is just another form of slavery - slavery to self. This can cause complete blindness to the worth and dignity of the other person whose chicken or parking space, spouse or hard-earned dollar is taken for one's own personal benefit or agenda. As a sheriff and a father his job is to protect and to serve. So, that’s what Andy does, in his own gracious but direct way.
For some time now, to protect and serve you, your mother and I have done most of the deciding. Early on, we did nearly all of it. For a season the word you probably heard most from us was, “No.” You will soon do all the deciding for yourselves. All along the way you will run into a lot of flashy things polished up in Shinola, buffed to a high gloss, and passed off as the real deal, new and improved. You will be made to doubt if you can live, and be truly happy, successful, secure, ‘modern’ or smart without it. And you will have to decide. My hope is that you will see these fakes for what they are - less than essential, far less than sacred - and you will not settle for less, as much I have - and choose the best - better than I did.
By divine help and trial and error, I hope you will see through the glitter and the slick pitch from a hobo or huckster, a politician or preacher, a pretty face or the most powerful of them all - the little Goliath living inside your head. This one rarely sleeps – tries to appear so reliable and loyal – and always argues eloquently for your best interest. This constant companion is a majority partner in the law firm of My, Me and Mine - your strongest, most persistent and resourceful ally - your 'self' sometimes called our “ego”. (More on that later in the letter “Dignity vs. Ego”)
Do I think you will perfectly apply all of what you take from any insight carved from my experience? Of course not. Unfortunately, blind spots, like many other things I have passed on to you, are embedded in your genes. Fortunately, unlike the leopard, we can, with God's help, change our spots. Another William wrote:
“To err is human; to forgive divine.” Shakespeare
The regret and hollowness that lingered after some of my own poor choices may not teach you like it did me. Many of the things I tell you in these pages may not ring true until you settle for less in some area and feel very painfully the let down or sting of your choice. I fully expect you will learn from the hollow feeling or hunger that prowls within you after sometimes choosing the dazzle of temporary satisfactions over the solid sacred realities. Sometimes, a lot times:
“Experienta est magister ultimum” (Roman proverb)
Experience is the best teacher.
I only hope some of what I offer here moves you along faster and farther - that your sight and insight will be keener than mine – to sniff out Shinola better - to sense what’s sacred sooner – and to choose more decisively. I hope your journey will be less driven by external winds or internal, momentary cravings, and instead be guided more by an early passion for the holy treasures of life.
I hope all this because one of the most sacred things to me - is you - and the condition and outcome of your soul and spirit. Come what may, you have my unshakable love and support. All I ask is that you consider the following as traveling notes, offered from someone who is cheering and praying for you. As you set your own course for life, liberty and the pursuit of what really matters, I pray something in these pages helps you walk more confidently into that future, whatever life throws in your path, and onto your shoes.