Marlene Baer

Happy Holidays! Marlene, Age 35

Marlene Baer — Mon, 29 Dec 2008 21:49:16 -0800

I didn't squeeze in the writing, stuffing, and mailing of a Christmas card this year. I feel kind of like a slacker, but it sure felt good to give myself a free pass. I definitely missed the process of thinking through the past year, reflecting on the highs and lows, and figuring out which picture to include. As a single person, this can usually pose a challenge. I hate posing by myself. Do I put my hands in my pockets? Wave? Hold them stiffly by my side? The nearest Glamour Shots is also over 100 miles away. So the fuzzy Marlene shot on the wicker chair is out of the question. Then you have to take into consideration that this picture is going to be up on someone's refrigerator for an entire year. This is prime real estate. Your mug shot is going to be up for all to see. And I mean ALL – not just the friends who receive your card. I already made this mistake a couple of years ago when I sent a picture of myself and several of my travel buddies from a trip to Costa Rica... on the beach… in swimsuits... holding coconuts in the appropriate spots. Enough said. Needless to say, my friends and I received plenty of strange feedback that year.

So, to the dismay of many (not really), I’m not sending a picture or a letter. It’s time to replace that coconut shot with a picture of somebody else’s cute kids.

Even though I didn’t mail a letter, I fortunately received many a photo Christmas card with happy, smiling family photos with a collage of kiddos. Maybe it’s just me, but I find it humorous when the parents don’t put their age next to their name. Their kids all have their ages listed: Michael (age 10), Elizabeth (age12), Rebecca (age 6). What about the parents, Jonathan and Kathy? I want you to remind me how old you are too. C’mon… just lay it all out there. Be brave. I also find it funny when my friends send me a picture of just their kids, with absolutely no letter. Don’t get me wrong. I love getting mail. But with no update, I can easily just make up a story that Michael, Elizabeth, and Rebecca are alive and well while their parents, Jonathan and Kathy, have left them to take care of the house while they go off to see the world. Could you please just give me a two-line update so my creative mind doesn’t go crazy making up stories? Or, I guess I could just stalk you on Facebook. Hmm. Tough call.

Is God "Green"?

Marlene Baer — Thu, 04 Dec 2008 14:09:50 -0800

I’ve received a new nickname at work – Bible Girl. I’ve taken quite a liking to it. Since I head up the Bible publishing at HarperOne, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers, it only made sense that I take on the persona this nickname entails.

One of my jobs as “Bible Girl” is to develop new Bibles that will engage with our culture. It’s funny how some of these ideas come to the table. Some are as simple as a hallway conversation, which is how The Green Bible came to be. After looking over many different “going green” book proposals, someone in our office said, “we should do a Green Bible!” And with that announcement, I was on my way, venturing into new, unchartered territory for me. No pun intended, but I was very “green” in my knowledge at that point on how the church was engaged in the topic of the environment.

I started cold-calling theologians and Christian conservationists to find out what the Bible has to say about creation. Turns out there’s a lot! There are over 1,000 verses that speak to how God interacts with, cares for and is intimately involved with creation as well as verses on how we are called to care. What really impacted me was seeing the teachings on creation throughout the ages - from the Apostles Creed to Martin Luther, Billy Graham, and Rick Warren. This isn’t a new message - but one that is woven throughout scripture. I was also able to work on the Green Subject Index, which includes listings of Bible passages that cover such topics as animals, caring for your neighbor (yes.. people are a part of creation!), land and water. This process meant that I read hundreds and hundreds of verses that all speak to God’s magnificent creation. “The earth is the Lord’s, and all that is in it, the world, and those who live in it” (Psalm 24:1, NRSV). What a privilege to work on such an incredible project!

You also might like to know that these verses are also highlighted in green. Yes… this is a Green-Letter edition! And, we also printed The Green Bible on recycled paper using soy-based inks, along with a super hip cotton/linen cover. It includes a study guide as well as essays from N.T. Wright, Barbara Brown Taylor, Brian McLaren, Matthew Sleeth, and a foreword from Desmond Tutu.

During this process, I also started investigating which organizations we could partner with on this project for additional word-of-mouth marketing. More cold calls were made to The Sierra Club and The Humane Society. I was surprised and encouraged to find out that both organizations either have a faith-based arm of their organization, or are already working alongside churches to engage in this topic of caring for the earth. It has turned out to be a wonderful partnership for The Green Bible as well as for The Sierra Club and The Humane Society. It’s also such a positive sign to see how the church and environmental organizations are working hand-in-hand to create awareness for how caring for the earth is not only a calling but a lifestyle to pursue.

If you’ve ever wondered what God has to say about “going green” or if you’re skeptical of the green movement and how it relates to your faith or if you haven’t picked up a Bible in years but you’re passionate about caring for the environment, take a look at The Green Bible. I look forward to hearing your thoughts!

Proposition Party

Marlene Baer — Tue, 04 Nov 2008 13:38:13 -0800

Like most Americans, I've been bombarded by commercials, junk mail, mass-forwarded emails, and overaly verbal co-workers who have all tried to convince me to vote in a certain way for this year's election. Someone even changed the street sign near my house from Bush Street to Obama. Very clever.

In the past, I would get so overwhelmed by the amount of information on who to vote for and which propositions to pass, that I would rely on a voter's guide and let someone else do the thinking for me. I know this sounds like a cop-out, but I'll be the first to tell you that I'm no expert when it comes to politics.

But this year I decided to do things differently. I wanted to make an informed decision. I even wanted to think outside the party lines and to view the issues as Tony Campolo describes in his book, Red Letter Christians: A Citizen's Guide to Faith and Politics. (Red Letter Christians desire to live out the red letters of Jesus' words in the New Testament.) So, how did I make a more informed decision? I attended a Proposition Party. A group of us met up at a local pizza place, prepared to share our research on both sides of a proposition we had previously selected. (In San Franciso, this was no small task as there were propositions from A - V!) Each person had 4 minutes to present their proposition, and 2 minutes to help answer any questions. Someone managed the time with a stop watch so we could keep things moving and not get too hung up on just one issue. It was a mixed group, made up of men and women, married and single, straight and gay, church-goers and agnostics. This only added to the lively discussion as well as to the diversity of viewpoints shared. I left feeling more informed than ever before and ready to go to the voting booth.

I know I'm only one vote, but even my voice - by casting a vote today, can make a difference. And I'm hopeful that my new informed decisions, that I made on my own, will make a difference in what happens in our nation today.

Flat Tires Anonymous

Marlene Baer — Tue, 14 Oct 2008 17:08:32 -0700

I have a confession. I’m a speed walker. If you’ve walked slowly in front of me in the past, you’ve probably heard an impatient sigh in your ear or you’ve suffered a flat tire on account of me. Please accept my apologies, but I really can’t help it. It’s in my genes.

Seriously.

My mom is a speed walker. My grandpa is a speed walker. And I’m sure there were many more speed walkers tucked away in my family tree. It’s how we’re wired. If we’re going to get somewhere, we’re going to get there fast. We don’t have the hip swivel, arm-pumping thing down (which I duly took note of while watching the Olympics this year), but our feet move just as fast.

Growing up, I’d watch my mom sprint from room to room while she cleaned the house and vacuumed, all so she could get it done faster. My grandpa has been known to leave shorter-legged people in the dust, with his mind set on his destination. And me? Well, some of my friends have vowed not to walk in front of me anymore. Their Achilles tendon’s are still recovering from the flat tires I’ve given them.

When we’re in motion, it’s not the slow kind.

I’ve recently become more aware of my walking RPM. When I lived in the suburbs, my patience would often get tested behind the driver’s wheel when slow pokes would drag along in the fast lane. (Don’t these people know that the left lane is for passing and not site-seeing?) Now that I live in the city, this frustration has transferred over to the slow walkers who lag along with seemingly no destination in sight. They meander in zig-zags, oblivious to the world as they talk on their cell phones so I can’t pass them on a narrow sidewalk. Or they walk 3-across with their friends or colleagues, so passing them is virtually impossible, unless, of course, I want to play “Frogger” in the middle of the street. I don’t know if I should carry a horn with me or cry out with fake labor pains so I can eeke my way ahead of these people.

Or, should I just slow down? Now there’s a thought.

But before I sign up for a Flat-Tires Anonymous group to help me in this regard, I first want to thank my grandpa for the speed genes he passed down to me. He’s 92, he just celebrated his 70^th wedding anniversary (yes… 70!), and he still plays tennis three times a week. And, he’s as sharp as ever. Come to think of it, my metabolism thanks him too!

What traits have you inherited from your family for which you are thankful for?

Say What? (Living in Community: Part 3)

Marlene Baer — Sat, 12 Jul 2008 17:54:20 -0700

I've learned recently that living in intentional community means that we need to peel back the layers, be real with one another and be there for each other. This can’t just happen while you brush your teeth before crashing from an over-worked, over-scheduled day. Caring requires time.

I made this mistake the other day. After a tiring commute, I raced into the house to scarf some leftovers before meeting a friend for coffee. I barely noticed my housemate who was moping around in her room – far from her usual demeanor. Being the allwise-one I gave her a quick solution so I could get on my way. So just how helpful were my trite remarks? I’ll let you guess. What she needed that evening was for me to listen, and to just allow her to be sad for a while.

At times caring means entering into another’s pain - just sitting there in the midst of it. Life rarely fits into quick-fix packages. This can be hard to do – requiring more than you really want to give. I’ve found, however that more often than not, you don’t need to offer advice or say anything profound in those moments. Listening is a powerful action.

On the lighter side of life, it also means sharing in each other's joys. Celebrate your housemate’s recent promotion. Solicit the details of a call from the “crush.” My housemate and I often make it a habit to share our“highs” and “lows” each day so we can put caring into action on a regular basis.

Yes, the messiness and quirkiness of living in community often interrupts our perfect world, but it’s a good thing. Psalm 133:1 says, “How good and pleasant it is when brothers live together in unity! (NIV)” In Life Together Dietrich Bonhoeffer also shares that it’s a gift ofgrace that we are allowed to live in community as “the physical presence of other Christians is a source of incomparable joy and strength to the believer.”Living in community is a privilege and a gift, and one I want to nurture, grow and not waste.

The benefits of truly living in Christian community far exceed the preservation of hospital corners and correctly folded towels. Bonhoeffersummarizes it well, “The more genuine and the deeper our community becomes, the more will everything else between us recede, the more clearly and purely will Jesus Christ and his work become the one and only thing that is vital between us.”

Much Ado About Confronting (Living in Community: Part 2)

Marlene Baer — Thu, 05 Jun 2008 22:11:48 -0700

I may be vocal in some areas, but when it comes to confrontation with friends, my family or my housemate, I’m the tall, silent type. I let things continue to roll off my shoulder and not bother me until my right shoulder is so askew that I’m in need of chiropractic services. There are definitely those times when we don’t need to create drama over the small blunders and quirks. But when that issue, whether it’s an ongoing, sarcastic remark about you or a consistent disrespect of your stuff, it’s time to get the courage and confront.

That said, I’ve found myself living with the opposite extreme of avoidance – one in which my housemate thrived on confrontation. I’d literally dread seeing her car in the driveway when I’d come home, wondering what I had done wrong this time. Living in a confrontation war-zone is not healthy either. Such a scenario is tiring at best.

What I’ve learned is that healthy confrontation involves three things; love, grace and respect. The purpose of having these conversations is not so much that you can get your way. It’s about loving that person enough to want the relationship to go deeper, and to get to the bottom of any issues that have silently built up between you. Choosing silence over needed confrontation means that both people suffer. Some of my most rewarding friendships are a result of moving through the silence and finding the depth that exists on the other side.

Compromise with Housemates: Do I Have To?

Marlene Baer — Wed, 30 Apr 2008 22:00:40 -0700

I often act as though everything and everyone should answer to me. My world is nice, neat and orderly. Just the way I like it – a low-fat cappuccino with lots of foam and crystallized sugar on top. Living in community brought this falsity to the table rather quickly. While I wouldn’t go quite as far as professing to epitomize Webster’s definition of “anal” I will admit to presenting as borderline at times. I’ve actually been known to refold my roommate’s towels a time or two so they match mine. True confessions.

Compromise means letting go of my unreasonable standards. It also means not getting annoyed when someone doesn’t fold hospital corners on their bed. It asks that I acknowledge that I’m not always right, I don’t always have the best ideas, and that I need to let someone else take the lead and to do things differently. I’m still learning how to sit in the backseat at times relationally. When I do, my housemate shines,and I’m able to appreciate her uniqueness.

(This article first appeared in Christian Single Magazine, August 2007)

Full House (Living in Community: Part 1)

Marlene Baer — Thu, 17 Apr 2008 21:38:23 -0700

We all have our stories of living with the obnoxious, quirky orclingy housemate. One especially memorable experience left me feelinglike I was living on an episode of Animal Planet when their cat assumedthe disguise of a jungle tiger and decided to mark his territorythroughout the house. Yet another classic moment unfolded, with adifferent housemate, when I came home to find the milk in the pantry,the tortilla chips in the fridge and the leftovers in the Tupperwaredrawer (her scurried attempts at “cleaning up”).

In Blue Like Jazz, Donald Miller devotes an entire chapter tothis subject. It’s called, “Community: Living with Freaks.” The titlealone made me laugh out loud. Yet as the text played out, he hit anerve. While living in community, my mindset has often attached itselfto what Miller admits to: “Life was a story about me because I was inevery scene.” In the “me-focused” world in which all of us dwell attimes, how do we successfully live in intentional community?

I’ve come to realize that living in community is messy. To do it wellmeans that the morning-breath, cranky me I hide from co-workers or afirst date needs to rear its head more often than not. Likewise, I needto allow my housemate to do the same, and not get freaked out by heridiosyncrasies. It demands an authenticity that allows us to know allsides of each other. And, I’m not the only member of this cast.Community involves caring for another person in a place of mutualsubmission while living out life alongside each other. But how do weget there?

(This article first appeared in Christian Single Magazine, August 2007)

Poor Sarah Marshall

Marlene Baer — Mon, 24 Mar 2008 21:36:52 -0700

“I’m so over you Sarah Marshall.”
“You do look fat in those jeans, Sarah Marshall.”
“My Mom always hated you Sarah Marshall.”

I’ve been seeing these signs all around town – on the sides of the MuniBus, on top of taxi cabs, and on billboards. I started wondering, what did thisSarah Marshall do? She must have really been a heart-breaker. Imean, for a guy to go to such efforts to buy up all of the advertisingspace in the city to get back at his “X.” I was quite impressed withhis revenge tactic (although I’d love to hear Sarah Marshall’s side ofthe story). I don’t think any guy would think about dating her afterreading all of those signs. I decided to google it, and I soondiscovered on www.ihatesarahmarshall.com, that the ads were some sortof guerilla marketing tactic to plug a new movie. The website is set uplike a blog, and details the poor guy – Peter Bretter’s - break-up.Quite clever.

If you've ever gone through a tough break-up, you understand thependulum swing of emotions you go through as you transition from beingsomeone's "other" to being on your own again. It feels borderlinepsychotic at times. There’s the longing to get back together withdreamy visions of reuniting like you've seen in way too manypredictable chick flicks. Then, there’s the anger and bitterness thatcreeps into your pores, setting your mind to devise some kind of sweetrevenge. I know. I've been there.

I remember during my first big break-up, I was trying to scheme up a"revenge" that would make me feel better. I knew even then, it wouldonly be a temporary fix – but the temporary satisfaction was all Ineeded at that moment. My "X" drove an SUV - the kind that had a tirehitched to the back of the car with a nice leather tire case that said"ISUZU TROOPER" in big white letters. One night, while it was prettylate, I drove over to his house with black electrical tape in hand. Myplan was to tape over the "T" and cover up part of the "R" so it wouldread "POOPER" instead of "TROOPER." I thought it was brilliant, andactually, quite funny. I could picture my "X" driving around town,hanging out with the high school kids in his youth group, not knowingthat they were all laughing behind his back as he drove away. So, I satin the parking lot of his apartment complex, waiting to make my move.

What was I doing? I thought to myself. I could hear the level-headed side of me talking me down from this idea. But it will be so funny. And he really IS a pooper. It's going to make me feel better. I retorted back to myself.

So there I was, having a conversation with myself while picking at theend of the electrical tape. I told you – it can feel pretty psychoticat times during a break-up. As I was having this deliberation, hisroommate came home and pulled up right beside me. Our eyes met. I sliddown in my seat and pressed the “disappear” button. The buttonmalfunctioned. I waited for him to walk into the apartment, hoping andpraying that he wouldn’t walk over to ask what I was doing theresitting in a parked car – in the dark – alone. Or, tell my “X” that Ihad turned psycho and Fatal Attraction on him. I placed the tapein the passenger seat, and slowly made my exit.

After my attempt at revenge, it took me a while to let go of thebitterness and the hopes that God would teach my “X” a tough lessonsoon. My nasty sarcasm about the break-up was the one thing I couldcontrol. And, I must admit, it did make me feel better at times. Butwhat I didn’t realize was that it was slowly eating away at me. I waspraying for a forgiving heart, but my bitterness blocked the path toforgiveness. It took me several months to figure this out. But once Icut my sarcastic remarks “cold turkey,” the road to forgiveness becameclear and the weight of my anger was lifted from my shoulders.

“Sweet revenge” wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. I guess I shouldcheck in with Peter Bretter to see if he really is moving on with hislife in the healthiest way possible.

Killing Them with Kindness

Marlene Baer — Mon, 03 Mar 2008 22:07:14 -0800

Now that I've moved to the city, my '95 Jetta has been relegated to the curb with an occasional jaunt to a different side of the street to avoid the infamous street cleaning ticket. My dream has finally come true... well, partially. I am now driven to work. Not by my personal chauffeur (as in my dream) but by the San Francisco Municipal Bus Driver. Muni for short.

Each morning you'll find me either breathing in the crisp morning air Pollyanna-like as I wait patiently at the bus stop, or shifting side to side as I stare at the Muni schedule every 5 seconds wondering why it hasn't arrived yet, or you'll find me racing down the hill in hopes that the bus driver will offer me some grace and slow down so I can catch up to the next stop. I haven't quite figured out the protocol on whether or not to chat with the bus drivers. It was just a few weeks ago that I realized that the sign "Information Gladly Given But Safety Requires Avoiding Unnecessary Conversation" was not a sign for me to not talk to strangers. It was a sign to let the bus driver do what they were paid to do - drive. So, I've kept quiet and obeyed the signs with a quick "thank you" as I exit the bus.

Just a few days ago, a friend of mine told me about her recent interaction with her bus driver. As she was walking towards her bus stop, she made eye contact with her bus driver, but he sped up and didn't stop. She couldn't believe it. He blatantly left her behind! We pontificated about what action she should take. Should she be sarcastic the next morning with a snide remark such as "wow, that was really great of you to drive right by me yesterday." Or, should she kill him with kindness, and even buy him a gift certificate to thank him for all of the past safe voyages to and from work? We opted for kindness. Who knows? He could just be an angel in disguise (who also happened to wake up on the wrong side of the bed the other morning).