Remember that time?

While chatting with an old friend the other night, I offhandedly mentioned that I've grown a gray hair or two since we last saw each other. I tried to point out their location to him and, by vain instinct, I started to light-heartedly lament their existence.

Before I could continue on though, my friend had to stop me in my tracks.

The first thing he said was, "Good!"

I gave him a quizzical look back.

Again, he said, "Good!" Then he added, "Wisdom! That means you're gaining wisdom."

* * *

Experience is the best teacher as the saying goes.

When I turned 28 a few weeks ago, I certainly gave thought to how I'm now truly on the back-end of my 20's, but I didn't really pause to reflect on it.

The conversation about my silver streaks got me thinking though.

* * *

I've got this book on my nightstand that has a really cheesy cover graphic. It's a picture of an egg being held in a mechanical C-clamp that's pinching the shell along its long edge. The book's title is "You're Stronger Than You Think," an homage to an egg's surprising strength when stressed from top to bottom. Eggs are much sturdier than they appear!

The theme of the book is discovering your inner-strength that comes from knowing God.

Recently, something clicked in my head and I've suddenly gained a similar swagger to that resilient egg on the book cover. (Sir Sheldon, I’ll call him.)

* * *

Like most almost-30's, I've been through various ordeals that are almost rites of passage for us all. I've had hardship with my family. I've had the experience of getting my heart pulverized by someone special. I've had mental and physical tribulations. I've had trials with school and work. And then there were all the random disappointments too.

Yet in light of how God was with me through all that and how He got me through it, and considering who He is for me , I'm learning to appreciate those hard times more and more.

Lately, life has put me in some tight spots, but I've been able to recall God's faithfulness and I've been saying this one particular phrase to encourage myself: "I've been in this situation before."

I've been using that line like trash talk too, using it to take a snipe at the original hater, Satan, who wants me to believe the lies that I'll crumble under the pressure. When Satan tries to get me to focus on my "daunting" circumstances, I just say, "I've been in this situation before."

I’ve also been using it to reassure myself when an earthly problem starts to look imposing. "I've been in this situation before." It has a calming effect on me and helps me to refocus on what God is doing.

* * *

Five years ago, I didn't have any of these stiff gray strands. But I also hadn't been in a lot of situations before.

So like my friend said about my decaying hair, “Good! Wisdom!”

I'm Not Going to Fall.

A few weeks ago, I went camping with some friends at the George Washington National Forest in West Virginia. Having started this blog just before the trip, I was hoping that at some point while stargazing, hiking or sitting on top of a mountain that I would think of some fresh ideas to write about. Blogging inspiration can be hard to find, but I was excited because it seems like people are always getting epiphanies on mountains.

The change of scenery and the slower pace of the trip definitely created an incubator for my thoughts, but for whatever reason, no writing idea ever hatched while I was out there in the woods, trying hard -- perhaps too hard -- to be introspective. Upon returning from my weekend getaway and logging into my blog to reflect, I could only recall trivial little things -- like how our crew burned a log that looked just like the legendary SR-71 spy plane or how mummy sleeping bags are amazing inventions. (Actually, the spy plane firelog was pretty sweet and in retrospect I wish I had taken a photo of it to share here). Nonetheless, I felt like the writing retreat component of my camping experience never took place.

However, while mentally revisiting the trip just recently, I thought of something worth writing about.

* * *

Being a city dweller in an extremely litigious society, I'm used to seeing guard rails along any place where there is a steep drop off. I'm thankful for this too since I'm slightly acrophobic. On the mountain trail that I was on a few weeks ago though, by contrast to the heights around my town, the only thing preventing me from plunging off some scary precipice was my own footing.

I didn't take many photos during the trip, but I do have one of myself crouching atop a boulder near the summit of Big Schloss mountain. When I looked at that image again recently, my mind -- which is highly visual -- started to replay my hiking experience.

I started to remember the chalky surface of the rocks and eating craisins at the summit. But most powerfully, I remembered walking towards the edge of a cliff and having all my muscles tense up along with my nerves shooting off. Fear, that intense physiological reaction, was a big part of that memory.

I've been thinking about fear a lot recently too. I wish I could say that I only get that tingling, choking sensation of fear in my body when I'm standing at the tip of a deadly precipice, but the truth is that I'm often just as -- if not more -- fearful while sitting on my couch, where I'll be fretting about work, relationships or something else. Fear has got me pinned down, I realized. But then something awesome happened while I was still reliving that memory. The Lord spoke to me through a visual metaphor.

I saw this: I was back on the Big Schloss mountain, and as I started walking towards the edge of a cliff, I suddenly saw a helicopter hovering in front of me, the chopper blades creating a lot of wind and noise. I could see the pilot through the open cabin too, and I just knew that it was Jesus. Although I couldn't really see his face since he had the big pilot helmet, visor and everything on, I clearly heard him yell, "Relax, I got you, bro!" And I knew in that moment that Jesus wasn't going to let me fall.

If you're laughing right now, don't feel bad because so did I when I first had this "vision". The all-out pilot suit and the language that He used cracked me up. God sometimes appeals to my humor while teaching me a lesson, which in this case echoed Hebrews 2:11-13.

Now, let me emphasize that this didn't actually happen in real life; it was a visual metaphor that I saw while reliving a memory. I can't give a physical description of Jesus now, but that wasn't the point because it was all about the Lord reminding me about this principle, which is: I don't have to be fearful because Jesus is with me! Christ has set me free from living in fear because He is watching over me, and it is His presence that casts out fear, making me confident in His perfect love.

Before God gave me that message, I had actually been trying to acknowledge Jesus' presence in my life more, and I thank Him for blessing me with that image of His love for me.

I don't know when God will encourage me with another visual metaphor again, but until then, I'll be joyfully reminding myself that Jesus has already said, "I am with you always".

Press on the gas and press on toward the goal

People visiting America from abroad always have insightful things to say about the culture here. With their outsider's perspective, they notice and remark on aspects of our society that I often leave unexamined but that are worth contemplating.

A few years ago, I was listening to a radio interview with an Italian musician who was traveling America at the time, Vinicio Capossela, and he made one of the most shocking and revelatory observations I've ever heard. He said something along the lines of, "When I travel from city to city, I notice that Americans are a very lonely people. They spend so much time alone in their cars, just going back and forth, looking sad."

That social observation may be obvious to a lot of people, but to me, it really struck an emotional chord because when I heard it, I instantly realized that I am totally that lonely American, the one who is always making long drives alone, who longs for company but is walled off by not only a car's protective steel cage but also by other barriers -- some perhaps stronger than any industrial alloy.

When I heard that interview, I was, of course, sitting in my car by myself.

One would think that with cell phones there's no reason to ever really be lonely in the car. I thought about that too, but it only made me realize another thing about my isolation, which is: to a great extent, I'm lonely by choice.

If my social life were an orchard, then my friends would be like fruit on the branches. All I have to do is reach out and grab them. The only problem is that I've got my hands stuck in my pockets a lot.
Fortunately, I've been blessed with many friends who constantly reach out to me and continually forgive me when I selfishly ignore them. (I am after all, as many of my friends know, a fiercely independent and often aloof CAT -- or at least a very cat-like person.) The point is that I'm often lonely by my own accord -- and I'm still figuring out why I'm like this, as many Americans probably are too.

* * *

Lately, as I've been driving myself home, I've been experiencing myself taking this strange enjoyment in some of the hardships in my life, including loneliness. I roll the windows down, suck in the fresh wind and just sort of smile to myself in spite of the pain. Maybe the suffering makes me feel like a true artist. Or maybe it's finally getting past my thick skull that "all things work together for good." (Romans 8:28). Am I actually starting to rejoice in my suffering as per the Word's instruction? If so, praise God! (Footnote: the oft-quoted Romans 8:28 doesn't say that the things we suffer are good; it says that God makes them work together for good. Cancer, death, accidents, etc. are still tragic.)

Upon further reflection, being alone in my car really isn't that bad of a deal. First, something that the Italian musician probably doesn't know about America is that there is essentially free access to incredibly uplifting wisdom and truth in every car in America. It can be found on Christian radio stations, which do send out some junk, but at the same time also regularly broadcast powerful sermons and messages for no charge. Europe doesn't really have that.

My favorite programs feature powerful Biblical counseling (Hope in the Night) and people telling stories about God's goodness and faithfulness in their lives (FamilyLife).

Also, for the believer, being alone in the car can be some of the best time to spend with God. For me, sometimes I'll turn off the radio and start thinking and acting as if Jesus himself is sitting in the passenger seat. I'll literally take a sip of my Gatorade and then hold out the bottle saying, "Here, Jesus, want some?" Then I'll proceed to talk out loud about my life with Him. It's kind of silly, but God is always with me and I do stuff like that just to try to remind myself of how real He is.

The other day, I was thinking about my habit of driving with Jesus sitting shotgun and I realized: wow, you know what, Jesus isn't just sitting in the passenger seat next to me, He is actually living within me too. That's how close my God wants to be with me -- so involved with my soul that He wants to dwell in me. Pretty amazing!

* * *

Christians often describe their lives as a "walk of faith." Well, since this is America -- the land of highways and byways -- it would also be fitting over here to say the "drive of faith."

In my "drive of faith," I'm looking forward to getting to know some of my permanent passengers better each day -- the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. I've also learned that my relationships with other people will be healthiest when my relationship with the Godhead is healthy. By the grace of God, I've already seen salubrious gains there, and I'm excited to press on and cruise with friends as we road trip towards the Celestial City!

More Than a Game

Some of my fondest childhood memories are from when I played on a soccer team for the first time with my elementary school classmates.

When I think back about my "rookie" season, I remember all these fun moments like getting my own jersey and thinking that was so cool, playing in front of a cheering crowd in the rain, and cramming into a van with teammates and going crazy after we had all drank way too much soda.

Like a lot of activities at that age, sports were innocent in the sense that they were all about having fun and trying your best. What more can a kid do? That season, one coach said that our team was built on the foundation of three P's: positioning, passing, and pizza. Good times.

The age of innocence never lasts though.

The next season I played, I remember some of my teammates talking about "select" teams for the first time, which were exclusive squads that you had to try out for, a new concept to me. I also remember one game when I ran for a ball, got shoved to the ground by an opponent, and then couldn’t breathe despite gasping hard. I had never gotten the "wind knocked out of me" before, and I really thought I was going to die at that moment. While these examples of increased levels of competition were actually good for me (and in my opinion generally healthy experiences for kids), they were also early signs that sports were becoming a lot more serious -- more organized, more time-consuming, more violent, more important. As a kid who loved athletics though, I took most of the changes in stride, and I would go on to play various sports in high school and college.

Today, about 20 years after my first soccer game, I still feel exhilarated while playing sports and even still think it’s cool to have my own jersey (with my name on the back!) for my adult league hockey team. Essentially, being out on the hockey rink, tennis court or soccer field with friends makes me feel like a kid again sometimes. However, as a twenty-something who’s becoming more and more self-aware thanks to caring friends and God, I’m also coming to realize how I have an incredibly unhealthy relationship with sports.

Now, as the only male writer for this blog, I feel compelled at this point to present my worldview and gender theory on why guys are so obsessed with sports, because I’m sure that some people have always thought ESPN and the Super Bowl are much ado about nothing. Let’s start with the absolute basics: (1) men and women are different and (2) we live in a fallen world where we often base our identities on everything else except for being children of God who are unconditionally loved.

That being said, men and women both doubt their self-worth, yet they doubt themselves in very different ways. Men doubt themselves by asking, “Am I strong?” and “Do I have what it takes to succeed?” Women doubt themselves by asking questions such as "Am I beautiful?" and "Am I worth being pursued?" and other queries that are too complicated for me.

With that paradigm in place and with the knowledge that Satan attacks people where they’re most vulnerable by using lies, it’s easy to see why many men struggle with the fear of failure and why many women struggle with their body image.

Going back to my relationship with sports, my problem is that I derive a shameful -- and false -- amount of my self-worth based on my performance in athletic endeavors.

Since men are seeking the affirmation of their ability to perform, one can see how athletic competition is a de facto character proving ground. There are detailed statistics for measuring yourself. There are clear winners and losers. There are individual awards. Then of course, there are people who value your contributions and achievements and will praise you for them.

Now, at face value, enjoying sports and pursuing excellence in them are actions that fit right in with the Christian lifestyle. After all, the benefits are good health, which is treating your body like a temple; getting to enjoy the Creation; ministry opportunities; and more. The apostle Paul makes multiple faith metaphors using athletics as well. Yet for me, it’s the classic pitfall of a good thing becoming an idol because I value it more than Christ and his teachings.

To fully explain all the unhealthy aspects of my relationship with sports would be way beyond the scope of a blog post -- because there are so many. But I’ll close by detailing one dimension that I’ve been thinking a lot about lately, which is my desire to be the star, the center of attention, the frontman.

On one of the hockey teams that I played on a year ago, I had established myself as the best player by scoring the most points throughout the season, and I eagerly accepted the benefits that came with having that role.

In the world of team sports, when you’re the leading scorer on a team, you gain special privileges. You can berate your teammates for under-performing, you can take up as much playing time as you want, and you can generally “call the shots,” so to speak. Further, no matter how much you carry yourself like a prima donna, as long as you produce results that lead to victories, everything is justified. Also, when you're good at something that other people are trying to be good at too, those people will pay attention to you as they watch you a little more closely, trying to observe how you do things, their eyes sometimes transfixed on you as they seek to figure out your secret to success, even as they watch you do something mundane like walking through a parking lot. It's flattering.

It’s probably very similar to being the lead singer in a band, the star of a musical, the soloist in an ensemble, the head of a research team, etc. Basically, you know that you are needed, and that feels nice.

I wouldn’t say that I was a bad teammate on the whole, but I definitely needed to learn a lot about humility and leading by example.

On my hockey team that I mentioned, I was enjoying being the star up until a few months ago, when a new person joined the roster who was a vastly better player than I. Because my head was all puffed up from being used to receiving the star treatment, I resented having to downgrade myself to second fiddle. But soon enough, I began to recognize the benefits of not being the go-to guy.

I started to realize that being the star of the team was extremely stressful because I would put so much pressure on myself to perform since the team’s success was usually determined by how I played. When the new guy joined us and started dominating games by himself, that was actually a huge relief for me and it allowed me to simply enjoy myself again knowing that there was someone I could defer to. Instead of clenching my teeth until I scored the next goal and trying to will the team to victory, I found myself singing along with the music over the loudspeakers like I used to. It was great.

To make a spiritual analogy, it’s perfect how Jesus is the star of this game of life, the one who carries the load for the team. In all the difficult circumstances of my life, I know that Jesus is the one who will deliver. All I have to do is give him the ball (i.e. relinquish control) and follow his orders (i.e. obey). If it were all about me, then I would implode under the pressure and demands.

Am I saying that Christians should never relish taking the lead or seize the moment in the spotlight because it’s prideful? No. God blesses talented people with opportunities to use their skills -- and sometimes that involves being on a public stage. Ultimately, it’s all about acknowledging that anything good that we accomplish is only possible through the grace of God.

As I continue to enjoy playing sports in my "adult" years, I need to remind myself that the chief gameplan is to glorify God.

I think if my six-year-old self were to see me playing hockey today, he would ask, “How come you never smile when you play?”

“Thanks, kiddo,” I would respond. “I’m working on that.”

Broccoli and Brain Food

One of my favorite pop culture moments happened when the crafts tycoon Martha Stewart made an appearance on CBS's The Early Show in 2002. At the time, Stewart was under intense public scrutiny because of allegations that she had cheated the public by fraudulently trading stocks.

During the cooking segment of that show, Stewart was shredding lettuce when one of the hosts started to aggressively question her about her legal troubles. As the tension on the set rose, Stewart awkwardly continued mixing fruits and vegetables. The host would not relent, but Stewart eventually performed a brilliant evasive maneuver by cutting the host off and then delivering the now famous line, "I just want to focus on my salad." Everyone was stunned, and Stewart was temporarily off the hook as the hosts tried to process her remark.

Even though she would later be found guilty of the charges, I've always liked her quote because, first, it's hilarious and also because it touches on a concept that I really like, which is finding peace and refuge in a hobby.

For Martha Stewart, there was shalom in making a salad.

Now, I'm not trying to argue that it's acceptable for people to suppress the truth or to escape reality; however, I believe that there are legitimate situations when people should block out the rest of the world and simply enjoy a hobby.

In my life, there have been times when I was intensely struggling with something -- from physical trials to unrequited "love" -- and I felt like my entire existence was being hijacked by my problem, despite my best efforts to resist. No matter how hard I tried to focus on God, his Word, his goodness and his promises, I couldn't stop myself from being consumed by my own sin-tainted thoughts and worries. Yet I've learned that one of the ways that God has comforted me during those hard times was by blessing me with the opportunity to do a hobby I love such as building Legos or playing hockey, which provided me with some much needed mental relief.

I think a lot of people would say that some of their favorite hobbies actually require very little brain power too. When you're doing them, your instincts take over and you don't even have to think -- or at least not very hard. There's freedom in that. You're having fun and you don't even know it.

As magnificent as the human mind is, with its power to create massive fictional worlds and its ability to process incredibly complex ideas, it is also vulnerable to going haywire. For me, when I'm under stress and I allow my thoughts to wander freely, it can get ugly. That's when I need my "mindless" fun!

I think the Apostle Paul experienced the blessing of hobbies too. While it's clear from his writing that Paul was a very intelligent and highly educated man who could debate philosophy, law and ethics with the best of them, Paul was also someone who worked with his hands as a tent maker (Acts 18:3).

I'm sure there were times when Paul was in the midst of a crazy trial -- such as persecution -- but in spite of that was still able to find moments when he would think about nothing else except for one simple task: building a tent. Maybe one time his friend was pestering him about preparing rebuttals for certain arguments against the gospel that they would hear at the synagogue the next day, and Paul responded with something along the lines of, "Honestly, I'm just focused on cutting this fabric right now. Hand me that knife please."

Does this mean that Paul was ignoring God or distracting himself from his true mission? No, in fact, I believe he was glorifying God through his work, which rejuvenated him and in turn prepared him for other kingdom work. When Paul finished a high-quality tent, I think God would have said -- though maybe not explicitly -- "well done good and faithful servant."

It's a beautiful thing how God has given every person certain interests and desires that can serve as their outlets in difficult times. Because of that blessing, someone can say, "Yeah, the divorce is getting really messy but I'm going to go practice organ now because I'm playing at service tomorrow." Or someone can say, "I'll deal with that after I'm done sailing." For those people, it's nice to momentarily live in a peaceful world shrunk down to the size of their crafts.

These days, I do have some things that are weighing heavily on me, and I know that I need to get in the Word and pray while "girding up the loins of my mind." (1 Peter 1:13). But I also need to remind myself that when I go to lunch and get to the salad bar, I have to remember Martha Stewart's quip, to put all my trying circumstances aside, and to just enjoy myself and "focus on my salad."

Resurrection(s)

When my good friend Margarita invited me to contribute to this blog, I was excited at the prospect and I asked her what the title was.

"Resurrections," she said. Honestly, I wasn't too crazy about that title right away because, for me, it conjured up images of zombies, vampires and other nasty things crawling out of graves and wandering in the night. (Yeah, I've seen too many sci-fi movies.)

I also rarely think about resurrection in the plural sense, and further, I don't think people even say "resurrections" -- just like no one says "furnitures" or "pastas". There's the resurrection in the same way that there's the White House, singular.

However, once I put aside my gut reaction and started thinking about what it means for the believer to be "raised with Christ," it didn't take me long before I figured out that the founders of the blog were probably exploring this idea of how resurrections are all around us in various ways.

At the individual level, each believer is a new and glorious creation in Christ, a resurrection. And within the story of that person's life, there will be many parts where the gospel makes seemingly dead things come to life, such as broken relationships, forgotten and suppressed talents, and lost hopes. At the Creation level, there are villages that have seen land that had previously been absolutely barren for decades suddenly flourish after prayer.

These are all, for lack of a better term, mini or micro resurrections. Christ rising from the grave and securing eternal life is the macro and ultimate resurrection.

Maybe I'm getting the concept of resurrection confused with restoration since the two are closely related, but either way, it's amazing that true life is springing forth here and now, that it's a free gift, and that it will one day be the only thing we know.

The background graphic of this blog, a grass field with plants and seeds, is somewhat ironic because all those things will eventually die, yet I also think it's a good image for celebrating eternal things because, as the Bible says, "So is it with the resurrection of the dead. What is sown is perishable; what is raised is imperishable." (1 Corinthians 15: 42)

What has been resurrected is eternal -- along with the good works that come out of that -- and I'm looking forward to celebrating those things through this blog.