Comedy & Tragedy

Comedy is when you slip on a banana peel and fall on your butt. Tragedy is when I slip on a banana peel and fall on my butt.

Why is it that, when something happens to someone else, it seems like such a minor thing, but when it happens to me, all of a sudden, it’s the end of the world? Seems like I’ve gotten my priorities out of whack somewhere along the line.

I know that I get so wrapped up in my own so-called problems that I can be completely oblivious to someone who is truly hurting. My minor inconvenience somehow takes precedence over another human’s pain. If I were to truly take an objective look at my life, I’d have to conclude that it’s not so bad. I have a roof over my head, food to eat, friends to lean on, and a job to provide finances. That’s more than a lot of people have. So why is it that, when I have a little extra responsibility tossed my way, inwardly I want to whine about it and cry, “It’s not fair! I didn’t sign up for this!” In that context, I seem kind of selfish and spoiled.

When Jesus was asked what the greatest commandment was, He responded, “‘You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. A second is equally important: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ The entire law and all the demands of the prophets are based on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:37-40) I’ve been thinking about these verses a lot lately. I’ll write more on the first part of it later, but for now, I want to focus on the second part. Love your neighbor as yourself. Easier said than done.

How do I go about loving someone else like I love myself? I mean, don’t we live in a society where we’re all expected to live for ourselves, and to heck with the rest of the world? That’s how it seems most of the time. But Christ would have us take a different route.

Christ himself said that, “There is no greater love than to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.” (John 15:13) There are darn few people for whom I’d take a bullet, but there are a few that come to mind. But there’s more to this than life and death. Let’s rephrase it this way; for whom would I be willing to inconvenience myself if they were in need? The list grows a little. Not as much as it probably should, but it does lengthen a bit.

So my prayer is this: God, let me see others as you see them. Not as a drag on my time and energy, not as a diversion on my way to my own goals. Rather, let me see people as Your kids. As fellow humans beings who are hurting, probably far more than me. And let me be Your instrument in their lives, though it may seem inconvenient to me, because You sent Your boy to die so that I might live, and I can’t imagine a greater inconvenience than that. Help me put my preferences aside and put other people’s needs above my own.

Check, please . . .

This is not the life I wanted.

I wish there were some kind of waiter that would come by and ask how everything is, so I could send my life back and get a new one, because THIS is not what I ordered. Sadly, that’s not how things operate. There’s no 800 number to call and complain. There’s no customer satisfaction survey to fill out. You’re just expected to take what you’re given and do the best you can. What a way to run a universe.

There are days I want to sue God for breach of contract. Wasn’t there something about granting the desires of my heart? I looked it up, and there it is, in black and white: “Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart.” (Psalm 37:4) Well, I’m looking around, and I don’t see the desires of my heart. I’m not disgustingly wealthy. I’m not married to a Charlize Theron clone. I don’t have my time machine. (OK, even I can admit the last one was a little out there.)

Of course, as I look at it now, I don’t necessarily think I’ve lived up to my part of the deal. There’s a condition on the desires portion of that verse. “Delight yourself in the Lord.” Have I really done that? Let me look back over my day. I was impatient with some customers today. I got bonked on the head by some heavy art at work and thought, if I didn’t actually say, some words unbecoming to a professed follower of Christ. I failed to heed Paul’s advice to Timothy, the one about looking on women with “absolute purity.” (I Timothy 5:1-2) I don’t think that God was too delighted with my actions today, which would show that I wasn’t exactly delighting myself in Him. So how does anyone live up to this hopelessly high standard?

There was something I heard in church tonight that put all this in perspective. It was a simple phrase: align your heart with the heart of God. This, in my mind, involves seeing others the way God sees them. It means having a heart that breaks upon encountering someone who doesn’t know Christ and swells when a lost child of God finds his or her way home. It also means that, rather than complaining about what’s wrong, I seek out what God has for me to learn about myself or Him in my current circumstance. It means praising Him, even when I don’t exactly feel like lifting up a song of jubilation at the time. It means I remember that, contrary to my perception, God had EVERYTHING under control.

As I get these things solidified in my mind, I’m beginning to realize that my desires are changing. They’re starting to look more like the things God wants. My concerns are starting to shift from myself to others. I’m more concerned for the state of their souls than I am about my own idea of what is right and proper.

I forget these things far too often. I’m just glad that God loves me enough to continually forgive me when I do. Otherwise, there’d be no hope whatsoever.

This is not the life I wanted. But it’s the one God has given me, and I’m going to do the best I can with it, try to live it the way God would have me live. And hopefully, living my life in this manner will point others to Christ. That’s what life is all about, really.

I want to be normal . . . I think

As I was coming home the other day, I found myself praying for a normal life. I’ve been reflecting on my life lately, and what I’ve found is most certainly not “normal.” Here I am, 35 years old. Based solely on my own observation, most folks my age seem to have gotten married, had at least one child (if not more), are fairly settled in a career, own a home, and so on and so forth. I, on the other hand, am not married (not even close), have no children, live in an apartment, and I work retail (and I’m not really sure that’s the career I’m looking for).

As I was praying, I could hear God sort of whisper in my ear, “What is normal?” My gut-reaction answer was, “Well, it’s what all those other people have!” Then God introduced an interesting thought into my brain: maybe I’m not supposed to be normal. In a case like this, wanting to be “normal” could even be a sin.

I know, it’s kind of a radical thought, but follow me on this. The normal life that I’ve been wanting is based on what the seeming majority already has. I know, it doesn’t seem so bad, but allow me to quote the original Top Ten List: “You must not covet your neighbor’s house. You must not covet your neighbor’s wife, male or female servant, ox or donkey, or anything else that belongs to your neighbor,” (Exodus 20:17) So, just by praying my initial prayer, I’ve broken a commandment. Great.

Rather than bring down his wrath on me, God gently redirected my thought process to show me what He wants for me. If we all had the same stuff, life would be pretty boring. “There are different kinds of spiritual gifts, but the same Spirit is the source of them all. There are different kinds of service, but we serve the same Lord. God works in different ways, but it is the same God who does the work in all of us.” (I Corinthians 12:4-6) “The sun has one kind of glory, while the moon and the stars each have another kind. And even the stars differ from each other in their glory.” (I Corinthians 15:41)

See, it’s our differences that make us useful to God & His kingdom. It’s our different situations that allow us to compliment one another in the body of Christ. It’s our different experiences that allow us to help others in their time of need. Look at the disciples Jesus chose. Peter was a fisherman. Matthew was a doctor. Matthew was obviously the more educated of the two, but it was Peter who preached the first sermon (see the book of Acts) that led 3000 people to faith in Christ. If Christ chose such a diverse group of men to follow Him initially, then being different can’t be a bad thing.

So, I’m changing my prayer. I don’t want to have a normal life. I want the life God has planned for me. “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord. ‘They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope. In those days, when you pray, I will listen. If you look for me wholeheartedly, you will find me.’“ I may not understand or know those plans, but I know that, as God reveals them to me, even if they don’t make sense, it’s in my best interest to follow them. God created the intricacies of the universe. I think I can trust Him with the details of my lifetime.

Training vs. Leadership

I was trained to be a Christian.

I realize that may seem like an odd statement, but stick with me, I’m going somewhere with this, I promise.

I came to this realization not long ago. I’ve been looking at my life, sort of trying to figure out where I’m going by looking at where I’ve been, especially in the spiritual realm. What kind of man do I want to be, what kind of life do I want to live, how do I want to be remembered, that sort of thing. And in the midst of this internal self-examination, I had this epiphany . . .

I was trained to be a Christian.

Let me explain. I have worked in retail for a while now, and I’ve trained a few people on how to do their jobs. The idea of this training is to teach the employee how to do the job, answer whatever questions they may have, and, once they appear to have the procedures nailed down, leave them to do their job as you go off to do yours. Pretty basic and straight forward. Occasionally, they’ll have a question, and you’ll answer it and go on about your business.

I realized that, to some extent, that’s how my spiritual development has been. When I was a kid, we went to church every week, and I dutifully went to Sunday school and learned about Jesus. As I grew older, the pattern changed very little. I took in the information about God, regurgitated it properly to the right people, and assumptions were made that if I knew it, then I’d live it out. Nothing more was needed on the part of my trainers.

Granted there were a few people who went beyond the call of duty. At this moment, I can think of one youth pastor who took more of an interest in the state of my heart than simply imparting information. Most of the rest seemed to be concerned about how I appeared to other eyes. What I learned from all of that was to give the right answers, make others believe that you have it all together, and then you’re a good Christian boy. That was the training I received. Well, guess what . . .

It doesn’t work that way.

All that kind of religious training does is produce unfulfilled human beings who think they have to get it perfect or else their church, and, by extension, God, won’t accept them. I know. That was me.

And the cycle continues to perpetuate itself. And as a result, Christianity as it was meant to be erodes further and further until it is hardly recognizable. Read through Acts, chapter 2, and compare that to the typical church of today. See any resemblance? Maybe a pale reflection, a cheap imitation, but that’s about it.

I know I’m coming off as pretty harsh, but I’m now seeing kids who are hurting, and are simply ill-equipped to deal with it, spiritually speaking. Kids and young adults who are dealing with real loneliness, real heartache, real grown-up problems that they shouldn’t have to deal with yet, if at all.

So, what’s the alternative? Real, honest-to-goodness leadership.

I’m learning now that it’s better to be led than it is to be trained. To be led is an ongoing process that really never ends. It’s a daily decision to follow the direction of one who knows better. It’s the idea that there will always be someone to guide you through the rough spots with love and patience. It’s the knowledge that, no matter what comes up, you’ll never have to go through it alone.

I can’t help but think of Peter. Here was a simple fisherman, impulsive and rough. Jesus came to him and said, simply, “Follow me.” And he did. Not perfectly, by any means, but he kept following. This impulsive, rough fisherman founded the first church (again, see Acts 2). This is the same man who, shortly after cutting off the ear of a man who had come to take Christ away, denied even knowing Him. I relate to Peter in many ways. I have been known to praise God in one moment, then commit egregious sins the next. And God is always there to lead me through the bad stuff so that I can get into the good stuff the He intended for me all along.

So, I’m now in the process of shedding all the training I’ve had so that I can be led by the ultimate leader, the One who already knows where the best path is, and is willing to show me if I’ll only allow myself to be led rather than go my own way and eventually need to be led back to the right way.

And I pray that, in dealing with others, I can lead them to the One who can lead them to everything they never knew they needed. Just like He’s doing with me.

Perfectly Flawed

I’ve said it before, and I’ll reiterate here: contrary to popular belief, I am not perfect. I am a flawed human being. I have my issues just like everyone else in the world. I make bad choices, I laugh at things that aren’t necessarily “appropriate,” and I do battle daily with what I’ll call (for the sake of family-friendly blogging) impure thoughts. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the truth. I’m a screw-up. I don’t want to make the wrong decisions, but I do.

I empathize with Paul when he wrote, “I don’t really understand myself, for I want to do what is right, but I don’t do it. Instead, I do what I hate . . . I want to do what is good, but I don’t. I don’t want to do what is wrong, but I do it anyway.” (Romans 7:15, 19) I know the right things to do, and I know what I should avoid, but, somehow, I get it backwards. I do the things I should be avoiding, and I avoid the things I should be embracing. Why? The answer lies a few verses later: “I love God’s law with all my heart. But there is another power within me that is at war with my mind. This power makes me a slave to the sin that is still within me.” (vs. 22-23)

So, how can I escape this pattern of behavior that plagues me? I Corinthians 10:13 seems to have the answer: “The temptations in your life are no different from what others experience. And God is faithful. He will not allow the temptation to be more than you can stand. When you are tempted, He will show you a way out so that you can endure.” The trick here is a two-parter: 1) recognizing the way out, and 2) choosing to use it. This, my friends, is harder than it seems. Well, at least the second part poses some difficulty in my little world.

If the grace of God is enough to cover a “multitude of sins” (James 5:20), then why do I need to worry about right and wrong? Doesn’t that give me license to do what I want, knowing God will forgive me if I ask? Not necessarily. Paul writes “You say, ‘I am allowed to do anything’ – but not everything is good for you. You say, ‘I am allowed to do anything’ – but not everything is beneficial.” (I Corinthians 10:23) You see, realizing that sin is bad for you in the long run should be an effective deterrent from said sin. But that’s not enough. We can’t choose right under our own power. We’re just not strong enough. We’re all just flawed human beings.

Where does this strength come from? Describing of a “thorn” in his side (what some scholars believe to be a chronic illness of some kind), Paul said “Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. Each time He said, ‘My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.’” (II Corinthians 12:8-9a) In our weakest moments, the times of our greatest temptations, that’s when God power becomes most evident. Most people want God to move in their lives so that they never experience hard times or fall to temptation. But it’s precisely in those times that we need Him most, and it’s in those desperate moments that God’s presence and love are most clearly shown to us.

The next time temptations come, my goal is to seek the way out God provides and actually use it. To depend solely on His grace rather than my own meager resources. To let His strength work in my weakness. And, most of all, to rest in the knowledge that I’m His kid, and that He, more than anyone else, is rooting for me to make the right choices, the ones that are beneficial, not just permissible. And that is my prayer for you, as well, whoever you may be.

Answers vs. Truth

Being a rational, logical sort of guy, I spend a good deal of my time seeking answers. If there’s a problem, chances are I’m trying to find some sort of solution, even if the problem isn’t mine. It’s just how I’m wired (must be all those mysteries I keep reading). As it turns out, there’s an entire industry dedicated to providing answers to the world; publishing.

The next time you chance to have a free hour or so, head to your local bookstore and peruse the self-help section. There you will find pages upon pages of advice, direction and sure-fire plans to make your life what it would have been had you been smart enough to figure it out on your own. It’s so kind of all these people to educate the rest of the world as to where we’ve gone wrong and how to fix it.

There’s one little problem, though. The authors tend to contradict each other. Between the doctors, motivational coaches, and other various self-help authors, no one seems to be abele to agree on what the definitive answer to life, the universe, and everything seems to be (it’s 42, by the way. Thank you, Mr. Adams). All these people are at odds with each other, and for one reason alone: to get money from your wallet into theirs. Knowing that there are so many “answers” available, how is one supposed to know which answers are the right ones?

I’ve finally decided that I no longer want the answers to life’s questions. I just don’t. Having an answer implies that the given situation is fixed, and no longer needs attention. There are very few life issues that can be dealt with in such a manner. You see, “answers” are, at best temporary fixes, sort of a psychological duct tape to hold things together until the next thing goes awry. I’m not after the temporary fix. I want something more lasting. I want truth to govern my life.

See, truth is a permanent thing. Truth is truth, no matter what the transient nature of life may be. It always holds up. Truth may be hard to deal with, and at times unpleasant, but it will never be wrong. This is the stuff of life for which I strive. I believe that if I live my life according to the things I know to be true, then I will have a life worthy of living, one that goes beyond mere existence into significance. One that leaves the world a little better than I entered it.

For example, in Ephesians, Paul writes, “Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think.” (3:20, NLT) My finite human mind can’t even fathom what God may have planned for me, but I can rest in the truth that He is powerful enough to achieve far more than I could possibly dream. Whenever I am reminded of this (which happens far more often than should be necessary), I find a peace in the idea that I don’t have to have all then answers, because God has things well in hand, and all I have to do is be His kid. And that’s a truth that will remain true as long as this world spins on it’s axis.

So, for all those self-help junkies out there, those who believe Dr. Phil is an oracle and Oprah a prophet, just remember: their shows will be canceled someday, and their books will eventually go out of print due to obsolescence. The truth will remain forever, and will be proven again and again.

Conversational Shorthand

My two best friends in the world are back in Oklahoma. Jon, Albert & I were virtually inseparable. Where one of us was, chances are the other two weren’t far away. Every Wednesday night, we had our version of poker night, but instead of playing cards, we’d play video games. Goldeneye, to be exact. Nothing brings friends together like running around in a virtual environment trying to shoot each other.

Since we spent so much time together, we inadvertently developed a sort of conversational shorthand. One sentence, sometimes even just a word, could replace paragraphs of conversation. For example, I could call Jon and leave a message saying, “Jon, I’m an idiot. Call me.” He knows that this means I’ve just called a girl in an attempt to ask her out and I’m freaking out about it, so I need him to talk me down. (Boy, it’s been a while since I’ve had to utter those words. But I digress)

When this happens, Jon will inevitably call Albert so that he can give me a hard time about actually having a date for once. So he’ll call me and, with no preamble whatsoever, just say, “So . . .,” in a particular tone of voice that has become so familiar. I know that this one word means, “OK, I know there’s something going on. Fill me in so that I can simultaneously support you and make fun of you.” This exchange between the three of us would probably be a ritual if it happened more than once every five years or so. Again, I digress.

This shorthand we’ve developed comes from the large amounts of time we’ve spent together, from the friendship we’ve developed and the intimate knowledge we have of each others personalities. It’s a comfort to know that, when I can’t explain what I’m thinking or feeling, these guys can take the few words I can give them and decipher the reality behind them.

When I pray, however, I often feel the need to labor over my words, making sure my requests are worded just right, working down a laundry list of desires, praises, fears, and so on. Wouldn’t it stand to reason that, if my relationship with Christ is where it needs to be, if I’m spending my time with God as much as I ought, we’d have developed the same kind of shorthand? I believe that’s what God wants from us, to take the time and develop that level of familiarity with Him.

Romans 5:8 says that, “ . . . the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express.” I think, in my limited theological knowledge, that these “groans” equate to the same conversational shorthand I’ve developed with Jon & Albert. See, the more you allow the Spirit to work in you, the closer you’ll become to God. “Because you are sons, God sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, the Spirit how calls out ‘Abba, Father.’” (Galatians 4:6) Break this verse down, and here’s what I see. Because we’re God’s kids, He gave us the spirit of His Son, so that we could come to Him as our daddy. And with His Spirit, we don’t even need words to talk with Him. He knows our thoughts and our needs before we can utter them anyway. You know those days when you just come home, flop down on the couch and release this heavy sigh that you’re sure can be heard by the neighbors? That sigh, the simple expulsion of air from your lungs, speaks volumes to the God who knows you intimately and wants so much to be your daddy.

That’s the kind of familiarity I want with God, and that comes only with spending time with Him, an area I know in which I’ve been deficient lately. I’ve decided that deficiency will change today. I want to continue to grow in Him and to be able to develop that kind of shorthand where, not only do I know He understands my innermost being, but where I can recognize His voice among all the others clamoring for my attention. There’s a peace in knowing that ease of relationship is not only possible, but desired by Him.

Since this has been one of my lengthier rambles, I’ll stop here. I need to go figure out how I can be an “idiot” again.

When God Sings

There have been many days lately where I’ve felt . . . well, inferior. I feel like, after 35 years of existence, I should have a little more on the ball than I do at the moment. I’ve been discouraged, lonely, tired, etc. I try to find things to give my spirits a boost, or my ego a jolt of self-esteem, but it’s too hard to do on my own.

Tonight, though, I came a cross a verse in the Old Testament that took me by surprise. While looking for something else entirely, I stumbled on the book of Zephaniah. The bulk of this book of prophecy is warning against the consequences of sin. This, I’m already aware of. I’ve screwed up enough to know that there are consequences when I make a bad decision, and I don’t need to be reminded of it, thank you very much. But towards the end of the book, the tone changes dramatically to one of hope.

One verse in particular caught my eye. “The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing.” (3:17) Taken as a whole, this verse is a huge encouragement. Then I started to break it down, and discovered whole new levels of hope and confidence.

“The Lord your God is with you, . . .” God is with me right now. The One who’s running this whole universe is with me at this very moment. “He is mighty to save.” He is all powerful and faithful to save me from the crap that’s bogging my down (spiritually speaking, of course). “He will take great delight in you . . .” Great delight? In me? Why? Because I’m His kid, and He loves me for that reason alone. Not because I deserve it, necessarily, but because He chooses to. “He will quiet you with His love . . .” All my fears, all my insecurities, all my foolish, finite human thought processes will be stilled once I start to grasp the fact that He loves me and He’s looking out for me (see Jeremiah 29:11). “He will rejoice over you with singing.” This is the most incredible to me. Even in my most minor of successes, God will rejoice. Not just give me a pat on the back and a hurried “Atta boy,” but with a song! God singing about me. I’ve spent my life in church singing about God, but never once thought about Him singing about me.

I remember when I was a kid, my parents would always tell me that they were my biggest fans. And they were. They showed it every chance they could. Every piano recital, ball game, school play, they were right there, with the biggest smiles on their faces, beaming with pride as their only child was butchering Beethoven or trying to throw the ball to first base and somehow managing to hit the shortstop in the head. The point wasn’t that I was perfect. The point was that I was trying, doing my best, and that was what they were proud of.

I think that’s how God looks at me now. It’s not about how perfectly I can execute the Christian lifestyle. It’s not about getting the notes just right, or always offering the right advice. That’s all surface stuff. God’s concerned about the heart. We’re going to screw up. As long as we’re sincerely trying to improve and draw even closer to Him, then even through the fumbles and failures, God will still be in Heaven, singing our song, proud that, on the heart level, we’re still trying to be like Him.