Here is a poem I wrote nearly a year ago, October 2, 2010. I thought about it this weekend with the sudden chill in the air.
Saturday night on the porch
Fall has surprised us.
I like surprises, when
they are made of cinnamon
sticks in hot chocolate, my breath
visible in frosted air, a friend
on the porch shivering in a scarf.
Another sip of hot chocolate
and I remember that even near the city,
sirens and rushing people and trash
on the ground, the garden in front
of our porch is wild with untamed shrubs.
Baby's breath bloomed last week,
another surprise.
As I think back on it, a lot of things surprised me last fall, some good and some hard. Almost a year gone since all that now, and there is a lot of beauty and newness in my life, and a lot on the cusp of change. Who knows what will have to die, and what will grow this fall. I'm glad to know one thing I didn't know for sure last fall, that I have a friend who will sit beside my on the porch for the rest of my life through the trash and tumult and the new blooms.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Sunday, August 14, 2011
It's already been done.
CS Lewis brings up an interesting point in the Screwtape letters. He speaks of humans’ preoccupation with the present vs. future vs. past, and reminds us that both God and the devil are outside the frame of time. He mentions that temptation is easy through setting future-related anxieties into the humans’ minds. This is interesting to think about in the mind frame of a movie, where we have not yet seen 5 minutes ahead, but that does not mean that it doesn’t already exist. Furthermore, if you videotape an event (like a kid on the swings, who then falls off and cries), playing the tape back (or videotaping it) does not stop the event from occurring or take away the unpredictability of falling off. The kid whose knee starts bleeding likely does not know that 10 minutes later he will forget about it, stop crying, and smile again. But we as the viewers (also as creatures more complex who know how these things work) can know what happens 10 mins ahead of a given point.
I think it’s like that with God. Somewhere else I heard this concept of “the Battle is already won.” And come to think of it, it really is. All the things we are longing for and praying for have already happened, if you look at it from eternity’s point of view. Our death and salvation, the end of the world, the New Earth, the fulfillment of prophesies.. they have already happened. Everything we are anxious about and fear has already been resolved. God has already taken care of it. All of our battles against our own sin and that of others, against temptation of the devil and weakness of the flesh – they are done. We are just in the early part of the movie, but that doesn’t make the later part of the movie any less true. Another theme in the Screwtape letters: ongoing small battles over the human’s attention that the devil and God both try to capture. Devil aims to tempt, God tempts to free and offer a better way. Lewis describes the devil’s attempts to bring the human farther away from God and we watch the human live, struggle, grow, and then die and enter the warm glow of heaven where everything finally makes sense and is as it was meant to be. The battle had been won. Now, instead of looking at the human’s life on earth as it is in each specific moment in life, let’s look at it as a whole timeline, or a movie. At each moment he was preoccupied with that moment or the time before or after it. But having read the book (or having ‘seen the movie of his life’), we already know the ending. We already know the battle has been won. So when we look at each moment’s struggle or joy that he is focused on, unaware of the bigger picture, we could laugh or cringe because he is preoccupied with the time frame he lives within. However, God, as not only the viewer of the movie but as the master of the world the movie takes place in, already knows the battle and how it is won. It is mind boggling, I know.
So, if you look outside the frame of time, the battle over that human’s heart had already been won even when he was just born. It had been won at the moments of his worst failures and the most uninteresting of days.
Perhaps we will not see how it all plays out, but we can trust and know that the battle has already been won outside the frame of time. The people we have been praying for – God has already heard our prayers. It has already been done. The Battle is already won. His good has already overcome the sin and evil. And while this concept is kind of tough to chew and swallow and comprehend, it can also be calming. We worry what will happen tomorrow and how this and that will turn out. We fear for the future of our parents and our children, and what the earth will look like when it runs out of natural resources. We worry whether God really hears our requests and petitions and we worry that we have not prayed enough for the people and things that truly matter. But that all has to do with the worries of tomorrow, which Jesus himself asks us to not worry about (Matthew 6:34). Outside the frame of time, it has already been taken care of. The Battle has already been won.
I think this idea can be especially comforting in the times of anxiety, because anxiety revolves worry over events on the small scale and within the frame of time. His Victory in the battle is beyond time and beyond our lifetimes. And it has already happened. It’s like if we lived in a snow globe and worried about interactions and events within that snow globe, but all that mattered was whether or not God moves the snow globe over from the bookshelf to the table. And that part has already been done. The battle has already been won.
Another interesting thought: when describing heaven, Lewis states that the human recognizes the angels and God and says something along the lines of “I should have known all along”. In The Great Divorce, Lewis also mentions, though, that life and reality and truth can only be understood through living them forward in time. but the days and years lived forward on earth are not all. there's more. the way eternity works can't be fully explained or understood while we are here on earth.
This brings me to this thought I once had that maybe we already know heaven and God, and just “forgot” it. We run around this maze of life as conspirators, tagging each other, recognizing it through touch, or running into things that make us remember bits and pieces of Heaven. Maybe our whole lifetimes are the journey of recalling our already existing familiarity with Him. And in the frame of eternity, (not necessarily today or tomorrow), we can say we do already know Him, and we do already know Heaven. Because in eternity we have seen it, and are already there since the Battle has already been won.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Only one thing
This weekend I visited the camp where I worked for years as a counselor, and earlier attended as a camper. It is always beautiful to return. After a day full of sailing, volleyball, swimming, catching up with a very dear friend, I lay on a bench and looked up at the (rather cloudy) sky.
There was a time, here, 3 years ago: lying under the stars with my 16-year-old girls, I ask the question "Where have you been in your relationship with God over the past year?" They all share, and one girl is left. "I can't have a relationship with God," she says, and after some prodding..."because I am gay." And after that moment of truth come many difficult and beautiful and important conversations, whispered in a bunk, confessions, assurances that God's love is bigger. We can't resolve things this summer, but we've cracked through and we are dealing with the real stuff, the gospel, our longings and fears, the stuff that counts.
Another time, sitting on one of these very benches, 5 years ago: hurt and confused and doubting and crying to my director Ellen, telling her the gospel feels empty to me, that I don't need to be forgiven of sin, that while I know I still love and need God, the message of the cross is a formula that doesn't ring true. She retells the message of the cross to me in a way that lets me hope it is my very uncertainty and brokenness that Christ bore.
Waking every morning to this lake, to prayer, to knowing that this may be the one or two or seven days that I have left to love these 10 girls that are sleeping in my cabin, these girls who flirt for validation or cut themselves or have too many questions or long to be closer to God. These girls who need the gospel, need to know God's infinite love.
Look at me now, I've forgotten to live this way, this simple way, where there is only one purpose---loving people and helping them encounter God. To this end I labor, struggling with all his energy, which so powerfully works in me (col 1:29). Now, rather, it's checklists, and getting things done, and making sure I am seeing the friends I should see, and conserving the resources I should conserve, and teaching the people I should teach, and defending myself against the ever-encroaching conflicts and weariness and demands.
Unfortunately this is all too familiar. Posted above my desk at work is an index card which I don't see anymore because it's been there too long: "Martha Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed."
There was a time, here, 3 years ago: lying under the stars with my 16-year-old girls, I ask the question "Where have you been in your relationship with God over the past year?" They all share, and one girl is left. "I can't have a relationship with God," she says, and after some prodding..."because I am gay." And after that moment of truth come many difficult and beautiful and important conversations, whispered in a bunk, confessions, assurances that God's love is bigger. We can't resolve things this summer, but we've cracked through and we are dealing with the real stuff, the gospel, our longings and fears, the stuff that counts.
Another time, sitting on one of these very benches, 5 years ago: hurt and confused and doubting and crying to my director Ellen, telling her the gospel feels empty to me, that I don't need to be forgiven of sin, that while I know I still love and need God, the message of the cross is a formula that doesn't ring true. She retells the message of the cross to me in a way that lets me hope it is my very uncertainty and brokenness that Christ bore.
Waking every morning to this lake, to prayer, to knowing that this may be the one or two or seven days that I have left to love these 10 girls that are sleeping in my cabin, these girls who flirt for validation or cut themselves or have too many questions or long to be closer to God. These girls who need the gospel, need to know God's infinite love.
Look at me now, I've forgotten to live this way, this simple way, where there is only one purpose---loving people and helping them encounter God. To this end I labor, struggling with all his energy, which so powerfully works in me (col 1:29). Now, rather, it's checklists, and getting things done, and making sure I am seeing the friends I should see, and conserving the resources I should conserve, and teaching the people I should teach, and defending myself against the ever-encroaching conflicts and weariness and demands.
Unfortunately this is all too familiar. Posted above my desk at work is an index card which I don't see anymore because it's been there too long: "Martha Martha," the Lord answered, "you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed."
Monday, July 18, 2011
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!
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!
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
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.”
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.”
Friday, June 17, 2011
Discoveries
The thing about being in your mid-twenties is that you start to realize who you are, the things you like and the things that scare you. You see where you are like your parents, and pray for the God's grace to keep you from generational sin. You see too where God is in your heart, and you bow to your knees in gratitude, that yes, Screwtape has not completely infiltrated your soul. Your mid-twenties are the first time you can really stop, pause from life's race to check your heartbeat, where you have the wisdom to sense the venom and the gifted righteousness coursing through your veins. It's a time for deciding on what roads to take, but when you know that you will constantly be deciding.
My friend Hlase claims women reach their age of wisdom at 27- I think there's some truth to this, or at least that's the age where we can start to understand what the scope of wisdom might be and appreciate it. At 26 though, I stand in wisdom's shadow. Wisdom to me, is a serene woman, not bowled over by life's storms, an edifice looking upwards. At 26 though, I toss and blow too often like the detritis in the fierce weather patterns in the valley just below that edifice. At 26 I feel the chill of the possibility of a loveless life; not that I am not loved, but that I have not loved. And yet, I know enough to have hope and look towards that edifice, and know that at 36, 66, 86 I'll continue to look to that edifice, for wisdom, like love, hopes.
My friend Hlase claims women reach their age of wisdom at 27- I think there's some truth to this, or at least that's the age where we can start to understand what the scope of wisdom might be and appreciate it. At 26 though, I stand in wisdom's shadow. Wisdom to me, is a serene woman, not bowled over by life's storms, an edifice looking upwards. At 26 though, I toss and blow too often like the detritis in the fierce weather patterns in the valley just below that edifice. At 26 I feel the chill of the possibility of a loveless life; not that I am not loved, but that I have not loved. And yet, I know enough to have hope and look towards that edifice, and know that at 36, 66, 86 I'll continue to look to that edifice, for wisdom, like love, hopes.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
The Saddest Eyes.
the sun's reflection in the saddest eyes,
the soothing music that will save our lives,
the bitter taste of swallowing goodbyes
that she would rather feel in salty tears we cry…
the tears come down your cheeks in streams
the headache lingers on, it seems.
daydreams of smooth smooching and the saddest eyes...
those big colorful eyes, long lashes, and the tears they cry.
twas not his fault, nor was it God's.
was your own fault all along,
for building "mental castles" over parking lots
that could never fulfill their full potential.
vivid and livid, like wrestling and rising,
uprising, if i may say so, within our hearts,
conflicting thoughts; spinning and pressuring frustration,
your head explodes, but there's still no explanation.
why do we fear? why do we mumble? why do we hesitate?
our world needs more of love and courage, less of fear and hate.
And Jesus said, tomorrow will take care of itself...
So, why do we let our fears put us on the shelf?
the saddest eyes, the stabbing jabs of loneliness.
a sunray that's joyful, a sister that's playful,
a heart that is prideful, and another one that's fearful.
what could have been, would have been so good...
the saddest eyes once again grow tearful.
the sun reflecting in the saddest eyes,
reminds him of the foundation he denies.
he is familiar with the charm, enamored with the glow,
never expected to feel so low.
the summer wind rustles the leaves, the kids around are splashing,
moments of truth are still rehashing
why is it like this? I don’t even know what’s wrong.. why can't i make it full of wonder?
can't God bring a miracle? or is this presumption?
the leaves are green and time keeps going at its speed,
each second our lives are ending
the dusty wind warms up your tired flesh,
the scars won't heal, nor will they remain fresh,
in this lifetime we'll never fulfill the longings..
ego, beer, sex, marriage, and affection,
the people with whom we feel a connection,
the more we get, the more we seek another direction.
even music itself - the active act of worship,
the life dimension that makes her heart thaw -
even music itself is not enough, we know we need something more.
nothing on earth satisfies,
said the one with the saddest eyes.
the soothing music that will save our lives,
the bitter taste of swallowing goodbyes
that she would rather feel in salty tears we cry…
the tears come down your cheeks in streams
the headache lingers on, it seems.
daydreams of smooth smooching and the saddest eyes...
those big colorful eyes, long lashes, and the tears they cry.
twas not his fault, nor was it God's.
was your own fault all along,
for building "mental castles" over parking lots
that could never fulfill their full potential.
vivid and livid, like wrestling and rising,
uprising, if i may say so, within our hearts,
conflicting thoughts; spinning and pressuring frustration,
your head explodes, but there's still no explanation.
why do we fear? why do we mumble? why do we hesitate?
our world needs more of love and courage, less of fear and hate.
And Jesus said, tomorrow will take care of itself...
So, why do we let our fears put us on the shelf?
the saddest eyes, the stabbing jabs of loneliness.
a sunray that's joyful, a sister that's playful,
a heart that is prideful, and another one that's fearful.
what could have been, would have been so good...
the saddest eyes once again grow tearful.
the sun reflecting in the saddest eyes,
reminds him of the foundation he denies.
he is familiar with the charm, enamored with the glow,
never expected to feel so low.
the summer wind rustles the leaves, the kids around are splashing,
moments of truth are still rehashing
why is it like this? I don’t even know what’s wrong.. why can't i make it full of wonder?
can't God bring a miracle? or is this presumption?
the leaves are green and time keeps going at its speed,
each second our lives are ending
the dusty wind warms up your tired flesh,
the scars won't heal, nor will they remain fresh,
in this lifetime we'll never fulfill the longings..
ego, beer, sex, marriage, and affection,
the people with whom we feel a connection,
the more we get, the more we seek another direction.
even music itself - the active act of worship,
the life dimension that makes her heart thaw -
even music itself is not enough, we know we need something more.
nothing on earth satisfies,
said the one with the saddest eyes.
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