Christmas Traditions

A lot of my holiday traditions got disrupted this year.  The simple fact that I live in a different place now was responsible for a lot of it, but there were also some other changes for a variety of reasons.  For example, none of my Christmas ornaments got hung on any tree this year, probably for the first time since I was born.  Well, actually that isn't quite true; my parents were trying to steal a few of them by hanging them on their tree while I was separating mine out of their boxes.  I caught them :)

Anyhow, none of that is as important as what it all got me thinking about.  The holidays seem to me to be the time of the year most governed by tradition.  I mean, there are various traditional things throughout the year, but especially around Christmas there is this whole extra set of rules and practices that goes into effect.  Presents, decorations, music, shopping, cards, and all kinds of other things that no one thinks that much about the rest of the year suddenly become the main focus of life (or at least it seems like that).  Not that any of those things are bad (except maybe the music *shudder* that gets piped into stores like the one I work in constantly and makes me a little extra cynical-- not carols mind you, which are about Jesus, but just songs... meaningless, mindless, repetitive, and totally empty.  This has been my bah humbug Christmas moment. We now return to the regularly scheduled blog [and sentence] already in progress), it's just that I feel like they all get done without any thought involved.  This is what we're supposed to do now, so it has to be done.

I guess I just don't like it when Christmas becomes a to-do list.  No wonder people are so stressed out and angry.  There's a whole load of extra things they suddenly have to take time out of their busy lives to accomplish!  What's worse, the whole process has (in many cases) been so completely divorced from the deeper meaning it was supposed to have that it has to leave many people scratching their heads as to why they run themselves into the ground trying to do it all.  I mean, the only possible way you could find out the real meaning of all this stuff from our "Christmas culture" is if you happen to listen to Linus in the Charlie Brown Christmas special-- which by some miracle, seeing as how it contains essentially the gospel message straight out of Luke, is still aired on secular tv every Christmas.

I'm going to stop right there before I start ranting about how secular culture is ruining Christmas by looking for it in all the wrong places.  I did that last Christmas (and it can be found in the archives of this very blog).  What I want to do instead is just ask the question that has been on my mind.

What if we could just throw the Christmas to-do list away?

Perhaps better stated, what if we should just throw the Christmas to-do list away?  Would we be able to do it?  Would we want to?  What if we really spent Christmas asking Christ how he wanted us to celebrate it?  What would he say?  Are we afraid of what he might say, so afraid that we won't even dare to ask?  How would it feel to be the only one in your family to be stemming the onrushing tide of tradition?

I guess that was more than one question.  I didn't realize how much was in that thought until I was writing it, but it's all what I've been thinking about.  And really, please do not hear me saying that tradition is somehow evil.  I think it often has great value, and Jesus himself instituted some traditions, most notably the sacrament of communion.  Speaking of communion, it seems like community and fellowship were things that Jesus cared about a lot more than material possessions.  Perhaps his answers to the questions of how we should spend Christmas would be along those lines?

Anyway, tradition isn't bad, but it is made for us, not us for the tradition.  All too often, I think, tradition becomes little more than a euphemism for blindly doing what we always have and an excuse for not involving Jesus in our decision-making processes.  All I know is, I did Christmas again this year.  Very little of it did I ask God about; some parts of it I liked, some I didn't.  I know it would be extremely hard for me to give up presents if God asked me to do that.  I just want to know that I would do it, and to be honest I can't say for sure.  I'd give up the music in a heartbeat, I know that much.  But what if I just put the whole process in his control?

Above all, I just want to be close enough to the heart of God to hear how he wants me to spend my time and money.  I hate the idea of doing things for no reason.  I want God to put on my heart the gifts to bring, just like he did for the wise men so long ago. I don't know what (if anything) he would have me change in my Christmas traditions for next year.  I just hope I listen.

Moving

As I mentioned last time, this is a season of many new things for me as I move out of my parents' house for the first (and hopefully only) time.  Well, it really did (after some unforeseen delays) happen, and the dust is just now beginning to settle a bit.  There are countless things that could be said about this whole process and all it entails, so I really can't let it go by without blogging about it at least once.  Besides, it's really the main thing that's been happening in my life and my heart recently, so I can't imagine writing about anything else right now anyway.  What follows is a sampling of my thoughts from the past few weeks.  If it seems a bit random or chaotic, then it mirrors exactly the process of moving in general, at least to me.

This may seem self-evident, but one of the biggest things about moving is all the movement it causes.  It sometimes seems like everything is constantly in motion.  I think this is one of the best reasons to do it every so often, especially for people like me.  Sometimes I can just get very stationary in life, not doing much or making much progress in any direction.  Moving does not allow for that option.  I feel like I've learned so many things and in so doing gotten out of my own little world and into the real world at large to a much greater extent.  It's a wonderful, beautiful place to explore-- it makes me feel small, and that's a good thing.  It breaks the illusion that I am a big deal in a small world that I orchestrate to orbit myself.  Instead, I'm just a little man in a huge world that revolves around God's never-failing plan.  And that, my friends, is a comforting thought.

Another big thing that moves when you move is emotion.  It's a good thing that God started helping me learn to deal with my emotions before I started this process, because I had no idea that I could feel so many wildly different things in such a short space of time.  I have felt overwhelmed, exhilarated, afraid, happy, sad, peaceful, lonely, joyful, confident and any number of other things that I don't know how to name, sometimes all at once or in rapid-fire succession, sometimes at longer stretches.  I say stretches because that what it's doing to me in a big way-- it forces me to go to God, feel what I'm feeling, and bring it to him for help.  The only other option would be implosion, I think.  Another good reason for moving: anything that brings our constant desperate need for God into such sharp focus has to be a good thing.  He always comes through when he has to, and being closer to him is the end goal of life anyway...

Moving has really highlighted the value of relationships for me as well.  The people I care about mean more to me than ever now that I have my own house to welcome them into.  That being said, if I just stay in my house and retreat into myself, those relationships will suffer-- they need investment and time.  I mean, it helps if you have a wonderful, like-minded brother to move in with you, but even (or especially?) that kind of relationship is not self-sustaining.  It needs care and time to achieve the constant growth necessary for health... but it's worth it.  I would argue that relationship (i.e. friendship, love, community and real connection) is one of the biggest things worth striving for in all the world.  If you count relationship with God, then it definitely IS the most important.

And of course, moving teaches many more mundane or practical lessons as well.  For example, it is a better idea to wait for your roommate to help you move large furniture up two flights of stairs than to do it yourself because you just want to be finished with the task.  Similarly, it is a good idea to bring a quarter to Aldi when you go there and get a cart, rather than trying to hold your whole trip in one big box that was lying around.  On a related note, Marc's doesn't take Visa cards (or any other kind except Discover, it turns out).  What?!?! Who knew?  And who knew how expensive most of the things I really like to eat are?  And who knew that garbage disposal and recycling require a six-page manual?   Paying bills, repairing locks, cooking food... man, I'm starting to feel like a freaking adult.

And it's all exactly where I'm supposed to be.

A New Street

When I started this blog, I noted that in some ways it was a chronicle of my journey into the "real world," as far as I understood that at the time.  The first entry was over a year ago now, written the day after I turned in my last paper and shut the door on college.  The journey continues to be a long and strange one, and although I'm still not sure I know what the real world is, I believe I'm taking the next step towards it.  Tomorrow begins the one year lease of my first apartment, my first time out from under my parents' roof.

I have lived in this house where I sit right now for 19 1/2 years, which is a pretty high percentage of a life of only 23 1/2.  There are memories in every corner of it; in some ways it will always be home.  It's time, though, and it's been time for a while now, for me to move on.  I think it will be a spiritual change just as much if not more than a physical one.

It's funny, because for a long time I've thought of autumn as a time of new beginnings.  I know everything is dying and falling and such, but it seems to me that new things are always beginning in this time.  Maybe it's just that every school year offers the elusive possibility of a fresh start, but even now that I don't have that on my plate, things still feel new around the fall.

I have no idea what God wants to do in me in this season, but I want all of it.  He's giving me a new road to walk down, and I don't want to miss any of it by taking unnecessary detours.  I love my parents, and I'm blessed to know that I'll always have a place to return to if I need it.  But for now, God is sending me to be a light on a new street.  I look forward to writing again from there!  For now, I'll end with a poem I wrote a long, long time ago that somehow feels very fresh and new to me right now.  Things always cycle like that, I'm finding.  Out of death comes new life; out of old things, new things are born.  And fall doesn't really begin until you drink apple cider around a fire :)

Deeper



Floating in the same wind that brings
impending autumn, surrender
and freedom awaken together.
With hayrides and first
days of school
comes the dream that this fall
could be different,
the restless replaced
by anticipation,
a promise beating back
the patterns circling
viciously around—
a fall deeper, into one
transcending the changing seasons,
more faithful than the turning
leaves, who bears me in
their opposite direction,
resting in pursuit
and drinking apple cider
by the fire.

How To Be a Good Customer in Three Easy Steps

Today, as I'm sure no one in the world knows, is my six-month anniversary of being hired as a server.  In fact, I'm not even sure why I know that myself.  It sounds like I'm in some sort of weird relationship... 

Anyway, the experience has been and continues to be a very interesting one, and it certainly has given me a lot of new perspective on how I approach interactions with people who are serving me.  Based on my experiences so far, I am ready to offer three basic rules for how to be a good customer.  These apply specifically to a restaurant setting, but I'm sure they can easily be applied to any customer service situation.  By following these three easy rules (and their corollaries), you can ensure that you are well-liked and appreciated by any customer service professional you encounter.

Rule #1: Remember that your server is a person.

--Corollary 1: The proper response to "How are you today?" is not "Coffee."  When a person asks you that question (even if, horror of horrors, you haven't yet had coffee today), the standard social practice is to exchange pleasantries and then go from there.  I mean, if this is a restaurant, do you really think I'm not going to get around to asking what you want to drink?  Hey, even if you don't want to further validate my personhood by asking how I am doing in return, at least answer the question before moving on (and believe me, the extra five seconds or so you feel like this politeness might delay your precious coffee are nothing compared to how said coffee will plummet down your server's list of priorities if you aren't polite).

--Corollary 2: Servers, like all normal humans, can only be in one place at a time.  Therefore, they also engage in the standard human practice of prioritizing the activities they need to perform.  Chances are, they also have four other tables that require attention.  Therefore, you will have to wait for things sometimes.  Don't blame your server; blame physics.  Helpful comments like "I'm still waiting for such and such random request I made to be fulfilled" do not cause the laws of physics to be suspended even temporarily.

--Corollary 3: Your server cannot read your mind.  Therefore, if you would like something to happen, you're going to have to ask.  Your incredulous stare and wrinkled up nose and high pitched cry of "You put this all on the same bill??" will not somehow go back in time and inform me that you wanted the check to be split if you didn't say anything about it.  Nor will I be able to somehow know that "they always make this dish for me some other random way that isn't in the menu" before I bring it to you the normal way... unless you say something. There are 25 other servers that work here, and I've never seen you before, and even if I have, it still isn't my job to commit your favorite idiosyncratic order to memory.  Also, servers have no other form of extrasensory perception either-- if your food is cold, I'm sorry, but I had no way of knowing that because I didn't touch or taste it on the way out to you.  The plate was warm, and the cooks are the ones responsible.  In summary, servers do not deserve blame for failure to possess superpowers.

--Corollary 4: Servers, like other citizens of free countries, make decisions on their own free will.  So feel free to try commanding me like I'm your slave, but just remember that I have the freedom to delay, demean, or disregard your request.  I do so at the risk of my tip, but I'll let you in on a secret: I already know that the demanding people are NOT the ones who end up tipping well in the end anyway.  It's a value judgment.  I don't have time to be running back and forth on your every whim when I know you aren't going to be a good tipper.  Meanwhile, my nice tables that I can make bank on would just be sitting there waiting, and that just isn't going to happen.  Requests work just as well, if not better, than commands.

**Personal pet peeve related to this topic: "Please and thank you."  As in, "do this crazy thing I want, please and thank you."  This clever ruse perpetrated by rude people takes two normally polite phrases and combines them into one impolite one, making what seems like a request into a command about which the recipient has no choice.  Adding the thank you makes unquestioning obedience a foregone conclusion.  But what if I don't do it?  Will you want to take your thank you back?  Also, if I do follow your bidding, you probably won't say thank you again thinking that the first compound one covered it, which is also rude.  General rule: Please = polite.  Thank you = polite.  Please and thank you = annoying.


Rule #2: Remember that you are a person (i.e. not God).

--Corollary 1: The customer is not always right.  Sometimes, they are wrong and we're just letting them think they're right.  Even if they were always right, this would not be an excuse for being demeaning or overly demanding of their servers, who are people exactly like them and don't deserve the rudeness.

--Corollary 2: The whole restaurant does not revolve around you.  Darn physics, it gotcha again.  Basically, if your server has five tables, they each have just as much right to his or her time as you do, and it would be helpful if you understood this.  Making your server run around like a crazy person is not only rude to him or her, but also to everyone else he or she is serving (and those people, by the way, are noticing how rude you're being).

--Corollary 3: Order off the freaking menu.  You are not so special that not one of these 70 choices is good enough for you (And if you are, why are you at this plain old little restaurant?).  Hey, if you don't eat pork and you want turkey bacon instead of regular, ok.  You're a vegetarian and you want extra hash browns instead of meat, I can deal with that.  But there is absolutely no need to start picking ingredients from other dishes and haphazardly combining them into your own creation.  Go to BD's for that.  Do you have any idea how the cooks look at me when I send back your order? They hate you, and they hate me for trying to accommodate you.  We have a menu, and those are the choices.  If you don't want any of them, there are plenty of other restaurants.


Rule #3: Tip well.

Honestly, you can do whatever you want with the other rules if you follow this one.  I don't care how demanding and incomprehensible you were, if you leave 25% or more, you can sit with me anytime.  Conversely, you can follow all the other rules and still be remembered as a worthless cheapskate if you don't follow this one.  Remember, this is a server's livelihood, the proverbial bottom line.  This is how to make an impact in the life of a server.


So that's it!  Follow those three easy steps, and you will be the toast of the customer service industry in no time.  Thanks for reading, and good luck!

(By the way, I realize that some of my suggestions might sound slightly angry... and I'm ok with that.  Truth be told, some of these things are frustrating, and writing about them is helpful in processing that.  Just know that, all in all, I actually enjoy being a server and that most people aren't like the ones I'm using as my "hypothetical" examples, nor am I suggesting that anyone who reads this blog is like that.  I assume that my readers are the very models of decorum and courtesy, and it's written using the collective "you" just for effect.  Just don't let me catch you being one of those people, please and thank you :)

p.s. Am I right? Wasn't that annoying?

p.p.s. Did you like how I closed the parenthesis with a smiley, though?  That's an online grammar innovation that I am, as far as I know, the pioneer of.  It has nothing to do with customer service, but smiling at people who are serving you is helpful too... ok, I'm done now.

Devotion

There's an old saying that goes, "Don't put all your eggs in the same basket."  This is commonly regarded as wisdom, since obviously if you drop the one basket carrying all your eggs, you then have zero eggs, which would be the worst possible outcome.

I'm not sure it works that way in God's kingdom, though.  Check this out:

"Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to preaching and to teaching.  Do not neglect your gift, which was given you through a prophetic message when the body of elders laid their hands on you.  Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress."

--Paul, in 1 Timothy 4:13-15

Paul is asking Timothy to put all his eggs in one basket.  Devote yourself, be diligent, give yourself wholly.  These are all or nothing phrases.

I think we shy away from approaching life like this for a couple of reasons.  For one thing, devoting yourself to anything (which implies complete focus and being set apart for a task--similar to holiness, actually) is hard work by definition.  It is all consuming, and a lot of us have trouble committing to things like that.  So, laziness gets in our way.

Even deeper than that, though, I feel like we avoid this devoted lifestyle because of fear.  We are somehow afraid that it won't turn out to be that great and we'll be left with nothing else after the eggs drop.  We really don't think God's plan is the best, so we follow halfway just in case it is the best, while also making our own plans and holding onto those.  It doesn't seem to work, but that doesn't usually stop us.  Maybe that's why Jesus said we have to lose our lives to save them.

Then another thing we fear is the reaction of others.  Paul comes right out and tells Timothy that everyone will see his progress: little or much, good or bad, it will be right out there.  Streetlights are right out in the open, not hidden.  If we devote our lives to following the Lord, people will be able to tell, and our successes and failures will be much more visible if we're willing to be real.  I think that's why we paradoxically try to save face by not trying as hard as we can.  That way if what we're doing fails, we always have the out that "we weren't really trying our very hardest."  Who knows what would have happened if we were?

So that's where I find myself today.  I know that I want to devote myself to following God, reading the word, and using my spiritual gifts.  I want to be diligent.  I want to devote myself wholly to this.  I am also afraid.  But, I know the times when I am most devoted to God are the times I am most free.  The same decision presents itself every day, every hour, every moment.  All I know is, regardless of my past choices, my current fears, or old sayings, right now I choose devotion.

Summer thoughts

In my last entry, I mentioned that I haven't been writing much partially because I often feel like I don't have anything to say.  After thinking about it some more, I think the next part of the story is that I don't feel like I have anything to say because I put too much pressure on myself to come up with something profound and world-changing.  I mean, I'd love to be full of amazing insights and witty commentary on the world, and some days maybe I am.  What I'm coming to think is really valuable, though, is just a willingness to be real.

The people I enjoy being with the most are the ones that I know are being genuine with me.  I've been on a journey of learning how to be more real with people myself, and I think part of that is not expecting myself or anyone else to be amazing all the time.  So in that spirit, here are some random thoughts that may or may not shed any light into who I am or any other mysteries of life.

1. People who do amazing things usually are not looking for acceptance.  They live, create, and work for the joy of it, and incredible things just happen.  Acceptance and approval are just side effects.  Unfortunately, what often happens next is that they get hooked on the feeling and then try to do what they used to be doing in order to get approval and popular recognition.  Then they stop doing amazing things.

2. In order for someone to love you, they have to know who you really are.  That means you have to be who you really are, or at least attempt to.  Otherwise, the person being loved is someone that doesn't really exist, a fake self of your own creation.  Actually though, people won't love this fake self that much anyway... it'll be more like admiration, because fake selves tend to have only good points and no weaknesses.  Again, it's essential to be genuine.  You might think you want to be impressive, but you really want to be loved.

3. I catch myself trying to be profound even when I've just said I'm not going to.

4. My motto in life: "Stay away from the drama" (bonus points for people who know what song that comes from).

5. It's pretty hard to beat cool summer nights as far as perfect weather goes.

6. My ranking of the seasons: 1) Winter. I'm always hot all the time, and winter is the one time I can avoid this.  Plus, snow is pretty much my favorite thing ever, as I believe I have rhapsodized about on this blog somewhere.  2) Autumn. It sounds much cooler called by its proper name, and the crispness and coolness in the air is amazing.  3) Summer.  Despite the cool nights (which, awesome though they may be, are rare) and the ability to run around and do crazy stuff outside, the extreme heat brings this one down the list. 4) Spring.  Maybe it's just because we hardly have this one in Cleveland or because its main characteristic seems to be incessant rainfall, but I've never been a fan.

7. My ranking of Starburst colors: 1) Pink, the undisputed king (queen?) of the starbursts. 2) Yellow, the underdog that I always get to eat the most of because no one else likes them that much.  3) Orange, nothing fancy, just orange. 4) Red, because I don't like things that are supposed to taste like cherries.  They don't, and what they do taste like is this cough syrup we used to have when I was little.  I've never been able to get past that.

8. I've always been extremely competitive.  As I've gotten older, though, I've started to realize that the people you're playing with/against are more important than winning (a shocking revelation, no? It took me a long time to figure it out).  I still try to do my best, but that really makes it much less of a big deal when I don't win.

9. I do still beat myself up when I don't feel like I personally did as well as I should have, though.  Not saying this is a good thing, just that the competitiveness isn't all the way gone.

10. One of my very favorite things to do is just sit around and have long conversations about things that really matter.  It's impossible to generate those times, but when they happen it's amazing.  It's totally worth going through the times of superficiality and whatever else it may take to get there.

11. Writing gets a lot more fun the less pressure you put on it.  A deadline is one of the biggest forms of pressure ever invented.

12. I just got texting on my phone this past month.  It's amazing.  I don't really know how I made it so long without having it.  (For those of you who are wondering, this does not mean I'm any more likely to ever get Facebook.  I never had any antipathy toward texting, I just didn't have money to pay for it.  Facebook is a completely different story.)

13. Another thing I love doing in the summer is lying down in front of a fan.  My family will tell you that I do this often, at completely unpredictable times.  These are things you learn to do when you don't have A/C.

14. Fourteen is a really random number of things to list, so I'll stop here.  I also like making abrupt exits.

Seasons

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven"

--Ecclesiastes 3:1


My recent season, as you may have noticed, has not been the season for blogging.  It would be easy to say that the reason for my lack of writing and posting is just that I have a lot of other things on my plate at the moment, but I don't think that's really the whole truth.  I was getting frustrated the other day about all the things I have to do, but truth be told I have all the time I need.  Really, I haven't been writing because I haven't felt like I had much of anything to say.

I'm coming to realize that the ongoing battle of adulthood is not just about making it through all your responsibilities to clear out some free time for fun or for pursuing the Lord.  It's about keeping your heart alive, right in the midst of all the stuff of your life, so that you have something to hold onto when the responsibilities are finally finished.

I don't know if you've ever felt like this, but for me it's easy to get lost in the practical.  There are specific things (e.g. my job) that I know God has called me to do, so I tend to focus on just accomplishing those things.  What I mean about keeping your heart alive, though, is that no practical thing you focus on is going to be able to hold up your life by itself.  There has to be something transcendent at the foundation.  I think I was missing God himself in the pursuit of all the things I thought he wanted me to do.

That's how you end up feeling like you don't have anything to say.  And in a sense, maybe it should be considered progress that I've finally realized I should just be quiet if I don't have anything to say (see verse 7 of the same chapter).  I know I've often just talked right on through those times, saying very little in many words, which benefits no one.  Just the absence of speaking by itself, though, is not enough.

I want to be silent before the Lord until he gives me something to speak.

Then, I'll have something worth saying.  The trick is, he's still calling me to do those things that I've let get in the way of seeking him out.  I think what he wants is for me to find him in those things, to pursue the love and joy that he has for me in my job, my friendships, my calling, etc.   I know that I can just practically manage those situations and find that I have nothing to speak in them.  Or, I can try to find the holy moments in the midst of the mundane.

I think doing that will also lead to increased desire to pursue God himself in the quiet (as well as the love he brings me through my friends) when I do have time.  It's like the opposite of a vicious cycle... an upward spiral?  I think that's what St. Anselm was getting at when he prayed this prayer that is also my prayer in this season:

"Lord, let me find you in loving you and love you in finding you."

Amen.

One Step

I'll start off today with a poem I wrote a while ago as I was preparing to graduate from college:

One Step Forward Taken


Somewhere outside empty,
around the corner
from unrest and
down the next
street from destiny
is my intended
destination. I sit
in my life
like a kid
in the car
in the family
driveway and say
Are we there
yet? knowing only
leaving and arriving.
Wherever there is,
I can’t get
to where real
and fake diverge
all at once,
so I tend
to take less
than the first
             step.




I wrote this poem in the midst of thinking about moving out of academia into "real life," but I've realized since then that it applies to so many different situations.  It seems like my brain always wants to do things later or somehow start at a more easily defined time, e.g. "I'll start my workout plan on Monday, but today's Thursday so there's no use starting it now"  or  "Next month I'll have to eat healthier, but this one is already pretty shot" or "Next year I'll really start working towards my goal of dunking a basketball"-- you get the idea.  Goals that seem very big just can't be accomplished all at once, and that can often lead to putting off even their smallest beginnings (which then leads, of course, to putting them off again later).  Those are just examples, but it can happen with anything.

Am I the only one that does stuff like that?  No? Good, I didn't think so.  I think it's really an example of how we listen to the voice of fear in our lives.  The whole situation reminds me of something my pastor likes to say, which I will paraphrase from the Ricktionary like this: "Our enemy always wants us to do things a little, and later.  God wants to give us more, and now!"  And isn't that the truth?  It seems like there is often a questioning voice advising us to hedge our bets or put things off until we're more ready or the time is more right.  But when is that, exactly?

What I'm trying to learn to do is take the first steps.  If I realize something needs to change in my life, I don't want to finish out this week doing it wrong and start trying it the right way on Monday!  I need to accept that real change is messier than that and can't be confined to my (sometimes unreasonable) desire for order.  I want to take the first step toward doing the things God has placed in my heart right now, right here in the middle of all the ridiculous mess and chaos.  I don't have time to wait for things to be more right or ready.  A little and later just isn't going to cut it for me; I need more of God and his help, and I need it now!

That might seem a little demanding, and I guess maybe it is.  All I know is that God has given us the green light to come after him with that kind of intensity.  Check out Genesis 32.  Jacob wrestled with God (!!) all through the night and wouldn't stop until he received a blessing.  He wasn't like, "let me just get things straight with my brother who wants to kill me and then I'll start following you and seeking your blessing."  He knew he couldn't go any further without God's blessing and he needed it right then.  He took the one step he needed to take, even though he took it (and every other step from then on) with a limp.

I don't want my fear of limping to get in the way of my taking that first step, whatever it may be.

There's no time to waste.

Witness?

I don't know how much this is true anywhere else, but in Cleveland sports are a religion.

There's really no other way to explain it.  I was reading the newspaper the other day, and they had all these photos of people looking extraordinarily downcast after watching yet another highly touted Cleveland team bomb out of its league's playoffs in spectacular fashion.  In this most recent episode, the Cavaliers essentially rolled over and died against a team they were probably better than, all the while looking lethargic, scared, and relatively hopeless.  Sound familiar?  Those are also a lot of the same problems the city in general has, ironically.

Now, disappointment and heartbreak are pretty foundational to Cleveland sports.  Every time a Cleveland team is getting even remotely close to doing something good, the sports shows inevitably have to air the montage of all of Cleveland's past failures.  I've seen this so many times that I can tell you what's coming and in what order without even watching it-- Willie Mays' catch, the Drive, the Fumble, the Shot, and 1997 game 7 are the standard lineup, sometimes with other humiliating moments thrown in for good measure.  My point in saying all this is that you might think Clevelanders would be getting used to this stuff.

This time, though, there was an extra layer of despondency and fear attached to the loss.  This particular loss happened to be in the last year of the contract of Cleveland's self-appointed savior, meaning that he could end up cutting his losses and leaving Cleveland to join another team with a better chance of winning.  I'm sure you know who I'm referring to-- giant billboard downtown?  arms outstretched in a travesty of the cross? army of fans in shirts that say "WITNESS" right above a Nike swoosh?  Yeah, that's the guy.  The imagery is almost too obvious: Cleveland is looking to LeBron for salvation.

I think somehow people have bought into the idea (read: lie) that if Cleveland could just win a sports championship, the city would be saved or somehow set on the road to recovery.  Now the best chance in years for that to happen might leave town.  You can start to see why everyone is so upset.  There's no denying the fact that LeBron's arrival and time in Cleveland have brought a lot of money to the city that otherwise wouldn't have been there, both in ticket sales and the spending of people who come from across the nation to see him.  But even if he could deliver on his promise and bring a championship to Cleveland, all of its deep, systemic problems would still exist.

It's easier, though, not to think about those real problems.  People who want to ignore them (or at least get a small respite from them) readily turn to sports as an escape, and that's where the salvation problem begins.  I don't think there's anything inherently wrong with sports; if you know me, you know I enjoy both playing sports and watching well-played games (which Cleveland unfortunately supplied very few of in this year's playoffs).  That's the thing though: sports were meant to be enjoyed.  When I saw all those depressed faces in the Plain Dealer, I couldn't help thinking that the point was being missed somewhere.  Obviously, we all want our team to win, and that's fine.  But when it becomes so pivotal to our emotions that we can't enjoy it anymore, then I think we're starting to head towards Jonah 2:8 territory.

Remember that verse? It says "Those who cling to worthless idols forfeit the grace that could be theirs."  I feel like a lot of Clevelanders were and are forfeiting some happiness and grace they could have had by clinging to idols, whether sports, winning, or LeBron himself.  I have to include myself in that group as well.  For a lot of my life, I've lived and died with Cleveland sports.  (I wasn't really sentient for most of those montage of failure moments, but my 10-year old self was crushed after the '97 world series.)  You'd think all the disappointment might get us looking for something better.

But you know what? This isn't just about basketball or even sports in general.  The same thing happens any time we cling so tightly to things that we miss God.  This is the natural condition of all of us in our fallen state, and it's the perfect opportunity to have a real witness.  We all have things we've put our hope in that have dramatically let us down: people, relationships, jobs, money, and yes, even sports teams.  No one is exempt from this, even if they could care less about the free-agent saga of LeBron. 

We can always share our stories of our idols failing to satisfy.  And then... then we can bear witness to the One who is worthy of our praise, who has never let us down, and who will never leave us for another team.  He sees the problems in Cleveland that run much deeper than the ineptitude of our sports teams, and they don't scare him.  Our job is to show him to the people who are looking for him in a team, a relationship, or a freakishly athletic and egotistical superstar.  I think that's what it really means to be a witness in Cleveland.

One Thing at a Time

I just have a quick thought for today, and I realize it might seem like kind of a "duh" moment to everyone else.  It's been a pretty important revelation for me though, so I just thought I would share.  Plus, it's something I need to keep coming back to, so writing it down should really be helpful in that regard too.  Ready?  Here it is:

I can only do one thing at a time.

Pretty earthshaking, no?  Of course, there is always multitasking, and I don't deny it (even though it's a skill that many of you know I possess in very small measure), but that's not what I'm talking about.  No matter how good of a multitasker you are, you still can only be in one place at any given moment.  Whatever you're doing, be it one thing or fourteen, is all you're doing.  Put that up against the countless millions of things you could theoretically be doing, and multitasking doesn't seem to matter as much.  There are still way more things happening than you can ever possibly be part of.

That last thought is one of two things: really depressing or really freeing.  It's just a matter of how you look at it.  I think I've lived a lot of my life with the mindset that I had to keep from missing out on things.  If there was a party or event going on, I felt like I had to be there or I'd be missing out on something I desperately needed, something that would make my life better.  I'm sure my rampant desire for people's acceptance had something to do with that, but that's really another blog for another time.  For the purposes of this one, it's just important that I've often felt like I was missing out.  And of course, as I've said, each moment really does contain millions of things I'm not doing.  It can get a little overwhelming if you start thinking about it like that, and that's where you can start getting depressed if you aren't careful.

On the other hand, the freeing side of this whole thing is that we can choose to focus our attention on whatever we are doing instead of what we aren't.  What if that was all we had to worry about?  How do we choose out of all the possible choices the one thing we are going to do and focus fully on that in each moment?  Actually, that's pretty overwhelming too, on the face of it.  That's why we need the Spirit of God in our lives.

Believing that God has a plan for you and is sovereignly directing your life changes the whole equation.  We can actually ask God for directions, ask him to tell us by his Spirit what we should be doing, and he will!  Then, we just have to be willing to do it, but again that's a different blog.  If we know God is leading us, though, that should certainly raise our level of confidence.  If we actually start believing that his plan is best, we probably will spend a lot less time worrying about missing out on things.

Having a job has really helped put this all in perspective for me.  There are significant amounts of time that I just have to be there, some of which are also times that other things are going on that I might like to do.  Now, I can get all worried about what I'm "missing out" on (the party, the girl, the worship night, the free time, etc.) if I want to.  However, I can also choose to believe that God has called me to work as part of his larger plan to move me into the rest of my life and has provided this job for me to do that.  If that's true, then that's where I'm supposed to be, and it will end up being the best for me in ways I can't even understand yet (and some that I do understand, like $$). 

"We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose" (Romans 8:28).  All things!  Really, that makes it impossible to miss out on goodness.  Whatever we do, God is working for our good as we submit to his purposes.  That's true even if it doesn't seem good to us at the time because all too often what we feel has absolutely no bearing on what is true.  Maybe that's why we get so worried and upset about many things, when only one thing is needed (see Luke 10:42). 

So, if we feel like we're always missing out, it probably means one of two things: either

a). we don't really believe that what God is calling us to do is the best thing, OR

b). we don't know if what we're doing is actually what God is calling us to do.

The way out of this pattern, then, is to always be asking God what he wants us to be doing (note: even while we're doing things! Check out Philippians 4:6 and 1 Thessalonians 5:17--  Scripturally mandated multitasking!  Looks like I need some practice... yet another thing my job can be good for).  While we're at it, we can also ask for faith to believe that he will lead us and that what he tells us will be the best thing for us.  That's freeing and comforting to me because it puts all the need to make things happen where it belongs--with the One who can actually make them happen.  God doesn't call us to more than we can handle.  Well, actually he kind of does... but then he handles it.  He's in charge of the millions and millions of things.  All we have to do is one thing at a time.

Returning

I think I've been living life in the wrong metaphor.

What I mean by that is, I think that my fundamental picture of how life works has been slightly off.  It's always popular, even to the point of being slightly cliché, to think of life as a journey.  Countless books, poems, songs, etc. have been written from this perspective, even though the ones written apart from God often fail to offer much hope as to the journey's destination.  As Christians, though, we especially love this metaphor because the Bible promises the ultimate destination, heaven.

Now, I'm not trying to say there's anything wrong with the idea of a journey.  It's hard to argue with the popular success and powerful impact of a book like Pilgrim's Progress, for example, and the story of Christian's journey to the Celestial City has actually been a big inspiration to me over the years.  It's just that the allegory in that story, like all metaphors, is limited in scope.  Obviously, no metaphor can ever fully become the exact thing it represents, or else it would be superfluous (which by the way, is one of my favorite words and one I've been dying to work into one of my blogs somehow).  That's why it's important to recognize where comparisons fall short and see just how far they can stretch before they break.

Here's how the Pilgrim's Progress-style journey metaphor got my thinking a little off: basically, I started thinking about life as a voyage towards God, who waits for us at a fixed destination as we slowly and circuitously (another one of my favorites) make our way closer and closer to him.  Catch the subtle twist introduced in that viewpoint?  It makes God the destination instead of heaven.  It's an easy jump to make, especially in light of the fact that heaven is where our fellowship with the Lord will be complete and full.  The thing is, he's not just sitting around up there waiting for us.  If God was a destination, he would of course be the best one to aim for.  But he's not.  He's everywhere.  In fact, our only hope of making it to our destination of glory in heaven is that God is in us (Colossians 1:27).

Now, the hope of heaven is a huge deal, and it has helped me through a lot of struggles in this life to know that one day all those struggles will be permanently erased by joy.  If we make the mistake of confining God to heaven, though, we can miss out on the fact that he travels with us.

We are not alone on our journey.

This is immensely important, not least of all because the idea of trying to get closer to a God we can't reach until heaven is a bit of a depressing prospect.  It's also important because it gives us a much more accurate picture of what life is actually like.

I'm coming to think of life more and more as a constant returning.  Instead of thinking of a one-way voyage toward heaven, I'm thinking more of a continuous coming back to God, wherever he is.  That way, my actions are relieved of the pressure of moving me closer to or further from heaven.  Really, if I've truly accepted Jesus, my salvation is secure and I'm moving toward heaven at the same rate as all other Christians: 60 seconds per minute.  I have no control over that; when I reach the end of the time God has written in my book, I'll just be there!  However, I don't have to wait to be with God until then.  Eternal life begins now, because eternal life simply means to know God (John 17:3), and he is actually walking with me.

God is not distant.  He is near me, and at times I walk right by his side.  Other times, I get distracted and let things pull me away.  Because this is a fallen world, there are a lot of opportunities for distraction.  The question, though, is not so much of moving forward or backward, of climbing up or falling back down, of progress or regress, but of whether the things of life will draw me towards God or away from him as he walks with me.

Will I return to God if a situation draws me away from him?  Will I re-turn my face toward his if something distracts my attention elsewhere?  The command to return to the Lord is echoed over and over again throughout the Old Testament by all kinds of prophets in all different situations, from captivity to prosperity.  In fact, every single thing that happens in life (like jobs, relationships, emotions, our own sins, or God's gifts to us, just to name a few) offers the choice to turn toward God or away from him, but he is always with us.  He is in control of the destination and how we get there.  The part he gives us a say in is how much like him we'll become along the way.

We become like whatever we look at.  To become like God, we need to turn towards him.  And because this life is so distracting and so many things draw our attention away, we need to re-turn towards him.  Often.  Always.  We have to fix our gaze on him, and then when we look away, look back.  Constant returning.  God's grace to us is that no matter how many times we need to return, he will still be there.

I was worshipping God at c-hop recently, and we ended up singing that Jesus is our soul's refrain, the part of the song we keep coming back to.  That's a whole different metaphor that I don't have time to address right now, but I think the journey works fine if we understand it correctly in the sense of always returning to a God who walks with us.  To finish, though, here's part of another song (Psalm 73: 23-26) that pretty much sums up what I mean by all of this:

"Yet I am always with you; you hold me by my right hand.  You guide me with your counsel, and afterward you will take me into glory.  Whom have I in heaven but you?  And earth has nothing I desire besides you.  My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever."

Growing Up

For those of you keeping score at home, this is the 23rd post on my blog! It's interesting that it worked out like that, because this is also my first post as a 23 year old. Hah, I almost wrote "the first post of my 23rd year," but that obviously wouldn't be true because this is the beginning of my 24th... but yeah.

Anyway, I've been feeling for quite some time like this particular year was going to be a big year of change and growth for me. It all has to do with the process of growing up. I realize, of course, that there's no getting around the fact that being 23 years old makes you an adult by any reasonable standard. It's just that I didn't really feel like one.

See, in way too many areas and situations, I've still been waiting for life to come to me. When you're a kid, that's pretty much how things go. Life happens to you, and you roll with it and have as much fun as you can while still fulfilling the demands being placed on you by authority figures so you don't get in trouble. In America, we've managed to extend this phase even further than just grade school or even high school. College is pretty much the same deal; it's like a four-year (or more) extension of childhood and freedom from the dreaded real world. Then you get spit out at the end of it, and (especially if you graduate with a liberal arts degree) you're no closer to knowing how to handle the real world than you were before.

At least that's what happened to me. Anyway, the end result for me was essentially a vague and nameless uneasiness about my life and future. Kind of like, wow, I'm a college graduate, but who am I and what am I doing? And because that's such an open-ended question that has no easy answers, the path of least resistance becomes doing nothing.

Unfortunately, that pretty much creates a vicious cycle: you have anxiety, you ignore it and don't make progress, which makes you more anxious. It sucks. The question, both for me and for others who find themselves in this situation, is whether the crushing weight of expectation and fear will drive you to God or away from him.

For quite awhile, I resisted what God was trying to do through my anxiety. Eventually though, the desperation it created led me to his feet. The funny thing was, he actually wanted to heal me, not make me do a bunch of stuff I felt powerless to do. He wanted to teach me the fear of God and help me get rid of my fear of men, and he also made much more of his love real to me.

I can only be a man because I am his child.

As that truth has been steadily sinking into me, a lot of things have been happening. I'm becoming more truly myself than I have ever been. I care much less about what people think of me. Plus, God has been providing for me greatly, both spiritually and physically. He's giving me strength and vision again, not to mention a job (or two jobs, actually). I'm learning how to be much more purposeful with my time too. I regret the time I've wasted, but I believe God is redeeming the years the locust has eaten (Joel 2:25). He's leading me into a brand new season. At 23, I finally feel like I'm growing up.

A Heart for Cleveland

One of the biggest things God has been doing in my life recently is teaching me how to feel. If you know me well at all, you know that I'm a thinker. I love to analyze things, and I tend to turn them over in my brain repeatedly until I arrive at what I deem to be a "solution," whatever that means. I've always wanted to have a logical reason for things, and that pretty much leaves emotional considerations in the background.

I've come to realize, though, that my unflappable logic and analysis has often just been another layer of my biggest weakness: pride. My refusal to feel was really just arrogance, an attempt to control the world through understanding. If I remain unaffected, I stay in control.

When it comes down to it, I really have believed that I was in control in my life. Now, it obviously takes some pretty selective memory to believe something like that in the face of all the craziness of life, but I was getting the hang of it. Problem was, the One who really does have the control wasn't too thrilled. He's not really a fan of competition for his position.

Long story short, God started shattering my perceptions of control by using my emotions. Now, I don't know if you've ever tried to make yourself feel something (e.g. joy, love, etc.), but if you have, you know that it really doesn't work. If you haven't, give it a shot sometime. I don't think it's possible, at least not for long. Anyway, the conclusion of all my logic and analysis was that if I had all the answers, I should be happy. Needless to say, I wasn't.

To give an example, I'll share a poem I wrote somewhere in the midst of trying to analyze my way through life. During my Junior year of college, my mom had totalled her car (she was fine) and was borrowing mine, so I had to take the bus/train to school for a while. The experience had quite an effect on me, and I wrote this in a subconscious attempt to deal with what I was feeling but didn't want to admit.


Commute

Today I am riding through
the steel bowels of a single
manmade mountain. It isn’t
very impressive, but it is all
the subway we have here. I
haven’t eaten for hours,
but I don’t get off as I reach
the city center, a hard rock
that only turns to living flesh
at certain quite specific
times. Those times, you can
lose yourself in the hurrying
humanity and quietly pretend
you have the answer to the
endless iron question. Other times,
it’s better to pass quickly by
the dirty Modernist monuments
and hope you can catch
the next bus at your connection
further on.
Thursday, 4:34
by the market tower clock
and I am boarding the 4:25.
The conglomerate smell of the
market is all I will enjoy today, not
the shouting vendors as they
make their best deal or set up
the stuffed pig’s head at
just the right eye-level
to scare the children. I don’t
have time for the homemade
glazed doughnuts from the
baker in the far northwest corner
or the fresh produce that
is somewhat less fresh than
the sellers say, but still a bit
more fresh than it smells.
No,
today my goal is just to make
it home, taking the redline 66X
and the 20A through the shades
of culture, death and life
to my refuge from the smoldering
embers in the dying heart
of the fire, where I can set myself
apart and analyze as I prepare
for the inevitable onrush of
tomorrow and my next ride.





I knew even then that this withdrawn analysis was not going to be the answer, but writing this poem provided me with the first realization that that's what I was doing. I had always thought of myself as a city kid, in touch with the problems of the street. Really though, despite the fact that I lived within the city, I had left it, to protect my heart from the hardness and pain. I was taking sociology classes, learning how to analyze the problems of the city without really feeling them, trading emotions for statistics. As I hope you can tell from the poem, I love my city (well, most of it anyway), but I was turning my back on it.

Even more pressing on my thoughts was my own survival in finishing college and managing my life. I spent a lot of time in survival mode in those days. Living like that gets tiring though, and God had other things in store. First, he had to bring me face to face with my own emotions, which turned out to be darker and much less controlled than I had thought. I had to learn, as strange as it might sound, to feel what I was really feeling, even if it meant admitting that I had no idea what to do with it and very little (if any) control over it. It's a journey I'm still walking on, and probably will be for quite awhile.

As I feel my own emotions more and more, though, I'm finding that God has more for me than just that. He also wants me to feel His emotions! I think we can easily forget that God feels things just like we do. Actually, I guess a better way to put that would be that he feels things even more deeply and profoundly than we do. And the biggest thing he feels? Love.

In asking God what he feels, I have become much more conscious of his overpowering love. For me, for others, for his Son, his church, everyone. God feels sorrow mixed with love, anger mixed with love and joy because of love. In fact, one of the most amazing and praiseworthy things about God is the way that he loves us beyond explanation, despite ourselves.

So, back to my poem for a minute. The problems of Cleveland are pretty overwhelming, and you can see a lot of them if you take the rapid from University Circle to the W. 25th street bus. They seem too big to handle from the perspective of just me and my thoughts and feelings. When I look at my city, I can feel frustrated, afraid, or even depressed.

But what does God feel about Cleveland? In most cases, I'm guessing it's something like compassion. I'm sure there are things that make him happy, angry and sad as well, but I think the overriding current is compassion for people who have lost their way. Therein lies the difference between God's thoughts and mine. I see large-scale societal problems that I don't even know how to begin to change, and the result is the overwhelming emotions I've tried to get rid of. God sees the problems and could rectify them instantly, but his heart is for the people. Although he could change things on the grand scale, his method of choice is compassion.

That's why it's so important for us to be in touch with God's heart, not just to know but to feel what he feels. Compassion, it turns out, is not nearly as overwhelming as fixing all the deep-seeded problems that plague my city. Each person I see on my commute through Cleveland is someone God loves, and I can treat them like that. I don't need to analyze so much as I need to feel God's love, and if I have no idea where to start, I can just start where I am. If I can just do that, I can break out of my protective bubble and really start making a difference.

And if we all could do that... who knows what could happen here?

Snow and Silence

Hmm... that title sounds like a good name for an Eskimo emo (Eskemo?) band... Can you see the hair across the eyes peeking out from the parkas? No? Ok, anyway...

I find myself a member of a distinct minority (at least here in Cleveland) of people whose favorite season is winter. Maybe it's the fact that it goes on for so long, is generally a uniformly overcast grey, and tends to send snow at just the right rate that you have to brush a quarter inch or so off of your car every time you want to get in it. I can see how it might be a little depressing to some. Whatever the reason, few people here seem to actually like it. For me, I'd much rather be a little cold than a little hot any day, but the main reason I love winter is because of the snow.

Now, I could go on and on about snow, as many have probably heard me do already. I've written poems about it, but I'll save those for another day. The main thing I'm thinking about today is how snow makes everything quieter. There's this muffling it achieves that is completely unique. I'm sure you know what I'm talking about: you walk outside after a fresh snowfall and everything seems quiet, even in the middle of the city. I love stepping outside at about 2am and hearing the beautiful softness. It helps me gather my thoughts, and the stillness seems to have a renewing quality to it.

Maybe the renewal is more in the quiet than the snow, though. It seems like our generation is the generation of noise. We're addicted to it. Just look at all the ways noise comes to us: as if tv wasn't bad enough all on its own, we also have radio for those few times when we don't have iPods (side note: the iPod is becoming one of those few lucky products whose brand name has become synonymous with the entire class of products it represents. Kleenex, Frisbee, Band-aid, etc... quite a marketing accomplishment) or cell phones pumping sound into our heads. Plus, those that can multitask do all this while also managing email, Facebook, or the aptly named Twitter.

Speaking of aptly named, how about this new thing Google (another of those dominant brand names, by the way) just came out with: Buzz. This has come crashing into my attention since it's automatically integrated into Gmail, of which I've become a strong supporter. In fact, this buzz deal will even show my blog posts whenever I update (although hopefully my readers will still visit my actual page... hopefully). We got to talking about it at my men's group though, and what name could sum up the general condition of our generation better than buzz? It's this constant dull hum of noise that we tend to keep around us that Google is desperately trying to become a part of. Thus, Buzz. Personally, I'm thinking seriously about disabling it for my account.

Here's why. It's not just an effort to keep people coming to see my actual blog, I promise. It's more of a symbolic stand. Silence, although run from by many and discouraged by our society, is actually extremely important. Buzz is like the opposite of silence, and the worst thing about it is that after so much noise, even when we do find ourselves accidentally in the quiet (like on a snow-covered street in the middle of the night), our minds are still spinning with all the things that have just been pumped into them. That can be unnerving, being alone with our spinning thoughts before God, so often we escape that by pumping in more noise. It can be quite the vicious cycle.

Anyway, I'm not just making up that stuff about snow and the power of quiet. The Bible has all kinds of things to say on the issue of silence too (although it doesn't specifically mention snow in that context, unfortunately). For example, "Be still, and know that I am God" (Psalm 46:10). Pretty straightforward, I think: we know God better when we are still and quiet. Period. In fact, silence is quite simply the appropriate response to his power and overwhelming glory. "Let all the earth be silent before him" (Habakkuk 2:20); "Be silent before the sovereign Lord" (Zephaniah 1:7).

Or how about this one: "Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life" (1 Thessalonians 4:11). I haven't heard too much preaching about that verse. By the way, the word that is translated quiet here doesn't just mean peaceful-- it's translated as "silent" elsewhere in the New Testament. I mean, Jesus himself went away to quiet places to pray and escape the crowds. I'm guessing he knew that in the Old Testament, one of the reasons judgment came upon Israel was that "the noise of a carefree crowd was around her" (Ezekiel 23:42). Sounds an awful lot like our society today, doesn't it? Buzzzz....

Now, I don't want to seem like I'm bashing the concept of sound here or anything crazy like that. I mean, I was listening to music while writing the beginning of this post (until I started getting convicted about it) and I love making music before God, which we are also commanded to do (see Psalms 66, 81, 98, etc.); "Blessed are those who know the joyful sound" (Psalm 89:15 NASB). It's just that we have to know when to turn off the noise and meet with God in the silence. And really, how else can we expect to hear his voice? You wouldn't have your headphones blasting while your friend was trying to have a conversation with you, so why do we do that to God? True, sometimes he is gracious enough to shout down the noise of our lives, but I bet we'd hear him a lot more if we would just turn it off.

I'll finish with a streetlight lesson, because I can't resist it. What do streetlights do right before they're about to burn out? They buzz. This analogy obviously can't be pushed too far, but maybe buzz is a warning sign for us too. Too much of it, and we may well be getting unhealthy. As streetlights, we shine our best out of the silence.

Godly sorrow

I think one of the driving forces of our culture in America is the desire for constant happiness. Because painful emotions are so, well, painful, we do our best to push them completely to the margins of our lives. For marketers, this is the perfect cultural climate, mostly because happiness is often so fleeting. They go ahead and prey on the idea that we should always be happy and that we should use such and such product to attain that goal, which works well for them because we quickly get tired of things and then have to get more to get back to that elusive happy place. The cruel trick of this system is that we end up feeling like there's something wrong with us, not the system, because we aren't happy all the time.

But what if pain really has a purpose? What if those unsettling feelings are important windows into who we actually are and who we are supposed to be becoming?

I'm reading this book right now called The Cry of the Soul by Dan Allender and Tremper Longman III (by the way, don't you wish you could put "the third" after your name? It makes it sound much more professional and important, don't you think?) that basically talks about using our painful and dark emotions as a bridge to greater relationship with God. It is a fantastic book and I highly recommend it. In light of our American culture, what it got me thinking about was the specific value of the sorrow we are trying so hard to avoid feeling (but honestly, can never truly escape). The Bible has a lot to say on this topic, but here's just one verse that has really captivated my attention:

"Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret, but worldly sorrow brings death" --2 Corinthians 7:10

No wonder the world is trying to avoid sorrow; perhaps they've picked up on the fact that their particular brand of it leads to death! It's perfectly natural, apart from God's intervention, to try to avoid pain at all costs. But do you catch what happens to the progression when God enters the mix? Godly sorrow --> repentance --> salvation. What an unexpected endpoint! Sorrow helps to save us?

Here's how I see that working: it's the difference between two words that are very similar and thus often confused, despair vs. desperation.

The great thing (or one of the many great things) about words, as English majors such as myself will be quick to tell you, is that they have such subtlety of meaning. Very rarely do two words mean exactly the same thing. Even synonyms usually have some subtle difference that separates them or some situation where one is more appropriate than the other; otherwise, why would we need two different words? Anyway, despair and desperation are two words like this. They are commonly used synonymously, but they are different and the distinction is an important one.

Despair means the loss of hope. A more accurate synonym for it would be hopelessness. It's easy to see where that leads: people who lose hope give up. This is sorrow leading to death, or worldly sorrow to use the terms of Paul in the verse above.

Desperation means the state of recognizing that one is in very serious and pressing need. A more accurate synonym for this one is brokenness. This leads people to do whatever is necessary to see that serious need be met. This sorrow, by God's grace, can often lead to repentance and life-- godly sorrow, as Paul would say.

See the difference? Despair looks at sorrow and sees no way out, so it refuses to deal with pain, opting to drown it out or die trying. Desperation looks right at the sorrow, enters in and cries out to be comforted. Despair sees no way out; desperation sees that there is only one way out and clings to its last chance for dear life.

On its own, of course, desperation isn't enough. But, when we realize that God is that way out, all of a sudden desperation leads right to salvation. We pursue God with single-minded fury and passion, turning from all the things that hinder us from getting to him (which is a pretty good definition of repentance, if I do say so myself), and holding onto the corner of his robe (see Mark 5:25-34) like our lives depend on it (which they do). End result: salvation, and no regrets.

Let me finish by going back to my definition of desperation, recognizing that we have a serious and pressing need. Is there ever a time when we don't have a serious need for God? No. Still, sometimes we feel like that need might not be too serious or pressing, that we can maybe handle things on our own for a little while. The trick for us is realizing that desperation is our constant state. There is only one way out of our problems, and it's Jesus. The only power that we have available to walk in comes from him, but he invites us to share it if we'll only admit we need it.

Maybe that's why God gives us sorrow and pain, to remind us that we need him and to give us access to his strength. God told Isaiah that he would give his people "the bread of adversity and the water of affliction" (Isaiah 30:20). Can it be true that these painful things are actually our food, the sustenance that we need to survive? It could be, if they drive us to God in godly sorrow. So, is it possible that by tuning out our pain and sorrow in all the various ways that we choose, we turn down God's great invitation to draw near and experience his power and salvation and life?

It's something to think about.

Resolutions

Well, normally I don't do this. In fact, I'm not sure I've ever done it before. This year, though, I'm making a New Year's resolution. Actually, I'm making two of them.

I guess I've always rebelled against the idea that just because the calendar changes makes this a better time than any other to try to change your life for the good. Resolutions seem so cliché. And really, if you're just saying things because it's the time of year to say them, there's no way those kinds of things are going to produce lasting change anyway. That's probably why so many New Years' resolutions fail miserably.

Well, that and the fact that so many of them involve sweeping, wholesale life change of the variety that really can only be accomplished bit by agonizing bit, not by idealistic proclamations. In that sense, the phenomenon of the New Year's resolution is very indicative of our culture as a whole. Showing resolve actually means bearing up under troubles and being firm and unyielding. But, it doesn't seem very empowering or encouraging to say, "I will fight this thing tooth and nail even when it seems like nothing is happening until finally and ever so gradually I start to see results." Instead, we like to decree instantaneous change: "Starting right now, I resolve to be different in this way." Also, very seldom do we ask God for his help at all. No wonder we can't ever keep these things!

Having said all that, though, I am still making two resolutions. I mean them, in light of my statements above, as things I hope to gradually improve on. They aren't especially life-transforming, but I hope that little by little, with God's help these can be things that yield blessing in my life. Here they are:

1. Drink more water.

2. Be on time for things.

That's it! Basically, I just noticed that I feel much better when well hydrated, and there's no reason short of laziness that I can't feel like that a lot more of the time. As far as being on time, I am pretty good about that when it involves something that I have a responsibility for, like a band practice or something. What I'm talking about is personal integrity stuff. I want to arrive when I say I will and be a man of my word in every area. Of course, I still value things that I can come to whenever, so those aren't really included. I really like flexibility! In general, though, I'm working to be more on time and ahead of the curve. So that's all for now... we'll see how it goes this year, and maybe next year I'll even try it again :)