further up and further in

As a kid growing up with a much older brother, I lost a lot of games playing against him. Baseball. Basketball. Checkers. Video games. Street races. Ping-pong (especially ping-pong).

For years, I'd lose. And lose again. And lose some more.  

"Why can't I be as good as him?" I'd think. The obvious answer was that he was older, farther along in development as a person. 

Truth is, when we compare ourselves to others in any area of life, it gets challenging. This also happens when it comes to faith. 

We look at other people's relationship with God, and then we look at our own. And sometimes we can't help but think 'I don't feel like I have the same sort of relationship with God that they do.' And you think this in a way that leaves you wishing your relationship with God was different. Was more. Was more vibrant, more connected, more everything. More like theirs. 

So let's unpack.

Truth #1: We're meant to pursue God and our relationship with God with others, in community (Heb. 10:25). It's essential. So avoiding all comparisons by avoiding all people can't be the way to go (sorry, introverts!). 

Truth #2: Comparison is the thief of our joy?  Sometimes. This can drag on our countenance. By constantly wondering why our relationship with God isn't like others, we can easily overlook the fact that God relates to us uniquely.

Case in point: In John 21, Jesus tells the apostle Peter about Peter's own future. Peter then (referring to John the apostle) asks Jesus, "Lord, what about this man?” Jesus said to Peter, “If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? You follow me!” So this isn't just a comparison we're prone to make. The disciples did this too. Jesus lovingly redirects Peter's attention: 

"You follow me."

Truth #3: Comparison can't just be the thief of joy. It can also be the thief of complacency. And this can be a backhanded lift to our countenance.

It's a fact of life that if you want to improve at any task, you put yourself in the company of people who are better than you at that task, and know what you don't (yet) know. 

If I want to improve at tennis, I play tennis against people better than me. If I want to improve at singing, I sing with voices more developed than my own. It's a well-tested way to truly improve. 

So observing someone's relationship with God, and thinking 'I wish I had that' can help motivate us to know God more like that person knows God. We're meant to grow with God by watching others (1 Corinthians 11:1).

First, we should check our perceptions. Comparing what we feel inside vs what we perceive on the outside about others is rarely a fair comparison. Knowing more about that person will help our comparing be more fair to ourselves.

Second, we sometimes learn how to love something by observing others. An older sister with a new younger sister learns how to hold the baby by watching how her parents hold the baby. A guitar player learns how to care for their instrument by watching a more accomplished player take care of their guitar.

"Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself. It is as if they are showing you the way." -Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz.

Do others have a relationship with God that we'd like to emulate? Certainly hope so. Are we meant to motivate one another to seek the Lord? Absolutely. The funky thing is that pursuing a better, closer relationship with God might not make you more like someone else. It'll more likely make you a stronger, healthier, more vibrant version of yourself.

the silence of God

The silence of God can unnerve, agitate. You ask God about something, and you wait for an answer.

It's the prayer screamed against a mirror that's fogged with our frustrated breath. It echoes, but no reply. The room is still. 

It's the fading ambulance siren as it drives away with a shattered dream. Now what? What now, Lord??

Why would God ever be silent when we call? 

There's this story about Jesus. The apostle Thomas (unfairly nicknamed 'doubting Thomas')  hears from the others that the risen Lord visited them, and he says, 'Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe' (John 20:25).

A bold statement. A not-unfair statement. He's calling Jesus out.

The next verse (John 20:26): "Eight days later, his disciples were inside again, and Thomas was with them ... [and] Jesus came and stood among them and said, 'Peace be with you.' Jesus proceeds to respond to, and reply to, Thomas' confusion.

I've read this passage more than once. The perplexing part of this verse (for me) always sits in the first three words:

Eight. Days. Later. 

For Thomas, eight days of silence from God.

Imagine playing a game of tag in a pool. You call out 'Marco!' -- only for someone to reply eight ... days ... later ... with 'Polo.'

Imagine leaving the most crucial voice mail, or sending the most important text message of your life, to someone important to you -- and hearing nothing back in the first hour. You wait one hour for the reply text. The call back. The news about the diagnosis. The job opportunity. The grade. The relationship. The future plan. The news.

 

Then it becomes eight hours of waiting. Then, you fall asleep waiting for a reply to ping your phone. 

 

You wake up the next morning and check -- no notifications.

One day of waiting becomes two. 

 Why have they not yet replied? Your imagination and nerves imagine every worst-case scenario. You wear yourself out with worry. You cry. You scream. You feel numb at times. You try to stay strong. You can't eat. Your sleep suffers. For seven days.

But then let's flip it. 

Say you've known someone for years. The waters of your friendship run deep. These years and the history have built in you both a certainty that you matter to one another.

So when there's a delay in responding, you don't sweat. "My friend won't let me down," you say. "If I haven't heard back, it has to be for a good reason. They'll respond to me when they can." And your friend does get back to you. The silence becomes evidence of a trust, a relationship deep enough to not require instant responses, instant soothing, automatic replies, realtime responses.

What's this built on? 

Trust.

Could it be that God trusts you with the silence? Could it be that's God's trying to show you how to trust him more deeply? There's a point -- in every friendship, every relationship, every collaboration -- where the trust gets stretched just a bit more, so that it can handle more.

It's when you've waited a few days to hear back from someone -- but you don't fret -- because you've waited longer for them before, and they've come through. When you loan a friend some money, and you've never loaned them money before ... and then they do pay you back in a reasonable time.

We trust, and give grace to, the silences we experience with our dearest loved ones and friends.

So what can we infer from the daunting, unnerving silence of God? I guess that question has multiple possible answers. Ergo, one possible answer is this: it's possible that God's trusting you with silence because God trusts you, wants that sort of connection with you, that you're able to handle the waiting.

Anyway, as you wait in your silence, give this some consideration.

embers

In this life, times of great inspiration and hope typically precede times of serious challenge, malaise, or trouble. 

I've yet to figure out why this is. I doubt I ever will. It doesn't always happen. But it seems enough of a pattern to share about it.

Consider these Bible examples:

-Moses spoke with the Lord on Mt. Sinai. Moses & God, a DM chat! 

But ... Moses had to descend. What awaited Moses? Israelites were up to no good: perversely constructing a golden calf to worship. In other words, Moses faced a horrible, absurd situation that he had to deal with, immediately after the epiphany atmosphere of visiting with the Lord (Exodus 32).

-Some wise men from the east visited Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus. They brought Jesus some opulent gifts fit for a king, testifying to who Jesus is. Wow, what an inspiring moment! Imagine how wild and otherworldly this would be for teenage Jewish parents such as Joseph and Mary. 

But what happened just after that? A horrible, absurd injustice. This family immediately had to flee to Egypt -- in the night, after an angel's urgent warning -- to avoid a massacre aimed at them (Matthew 2).

-Jesus, after being baptized by John the Baptist, was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to endure many days of temptation (Matthew 4). A tough, tough time of faith followed the time of inspiration.

-Jesus, during the Transfiguration. [First, a word: there's not the time, or bandwidth, to properly encapsulate all this event means, meant, foretold, revealed, continues to reveal -- just know that all the books written about this one event would fill several libraries]. It was a moment teeming with hope, inspiration, out-of-sight sensory, supernatural experience. 

But what came the next day? A horrible, absurd situation awaits Jesus and his disciples. 

Have you noticed this in your life? This ever happened to you? Maybe more than once?

Sure it has. You hear a dynamic, amazing talk. Or you attend an event that absolutely lights (or re-lights) that fire in your heart. Or you see a longtime prayer answered. Or you read a book that reorients how you perceive yourself, to help you forgive. You take a trip -- or a walk on a beach -- that changes your life for the good. 

You become so rejuvenated, like you could radiate LED bleach-white strobe light shots out your fingertips and your hair. That lit fire within you -- it roars with resolve, awe, inspiration. You're an energized, boisterous, walking stack of personified jubilation.

But then? 

But then. 

It eventually changes.

It won't "always" happen that tedious monotony, wrenching pain, or unsettled disillusionment will follow times of great inspiration. I'll just say this: it seems to happen enough in history, in the Bible, with people throughout time, to make mention of it. 

Every fire has to die down to embers sometime. Every wave meets a shore.

So if this is you  ... I'd encourage you to stay with it. It doesn't necessarily mean you're off track. We're never meant to stay in and hoard (this side of glory) those places of uninterrupted inspiration and insight. But those special places and momentous times do serve a purpose. 

They serve a purpose, particularly with how and when we face the harder times, the heartbreak, the disillusionment that life sometimes brings. God's continually reminding us through creation, through others, through the Bible, through a million other ways of this truth: the heartbreak, the s*** of life isn't all there is to life, to say it plainly. It's OK to need reminding of that.

"I would have lost heart, unless I had believed that I would see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living." -Psalm 27:13

There's always one more wave heading to a shore.

There's lots of places out there where someone's stoking some embers to prep for another fire.

Grace never quits.

WWJD - nap

"Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ." 1 Corinthians 11:1

It's never not intimidated me when the Bible says I/we gotta imitate Christ. For most of my life, I've understood this as meaning 'be like Jesus' to = 'don't sin, always be the best.'

While not sinning is part of imitating Jesus, it's not all of it. The imitation of Christ is too often equated with attaining for 'perfection.' And our sense of 'perfection' is warped, frankly. Icarus can never make it.

To be blunt: Jesus did not create daily to-do lists, complete with immaculate, color-coded penmanship. He never got into what his Enneagram type could be. He did not wake up at 4AM every day to fit in 90 minutes of cardio and strength training. He probably didn't floss after every meal. He did not show up 10 minutes early to every lesson at synagogue, just to ensure he wasn't late. When he gave a housewarming gift, he may have re-used a gift bag.

He probably let his food ... touch the other food on his plate.

In fact, Jesus:

-took naps on the regular (Mark 4:38)

-enthusiastically ran away when a crowd became too much (Mark 6:31-32)

-got hungry, and then became annoyed when he couldn't find food (Matthew 21:18-19)

-was not at everything other people expected him to attend (John 11:6, John 11:21)

-cried when he was sad (John 11:35)

-showed frustration at religious systems -- and didn't even try to hide it (John 2:13-17)

-every so often resisted his family's pressure on how he should live his life (Mark 3:21,31-35)

It's almost as though Jesus -- in telling his disciples and followers to imitate -- is saying we should copy *all* of his ways in how we live day by day. In the famous words of the penguin skipper from Madagascar when they made it to the beach: "Now THIS is more like it." 

So while we're trying to imitate Jesus and keep from sinning, and in trying to love our neighbors as ourselves, let's not forget about how Jesus didn't always go along with his family's wishes--we may need to imitate that at some point. Or when Jesus cried. Or how Jesus showed some frustration. Or how Jesus took those naps.