you see what you look at

[Apologies to my late grandma for the blog title; she heartily disliked any sentence that ended with a preposition!]

 

When my best friend turned 16, he acquired (for $1,000!) a 14-year-old BMW. Given its age and mileage, he perpetually performed maintenance on that car -- for him, it was a labor of love. It looked sleek.

I, on the other hand, knew nothing about BMW's. If asked, I wouldn't have been able to identify them from any other brand of car.

But here's what began to happen:

 

Once I began to ride with him in this car, and listened to him talk so much about his car, I started noticing other BMW's everywhere on the road.

 

The distinctive headlights-

That logo-

I had no idea how many people drove this kind of car, until I knew what I was looking at [apologies again to grandma - another preposition!]. 

 

Once I could identify them, I could see them.

 

Isn't that how it normally goes for you and for me? What we look at, we tend to see. But until we know what we're looking at, we don't see it.

 

Some examples: 

-A friend will play you a song they love, and will point out a note sung (or instrument used) at a particular moment in the song. They'll tell you why they specifically love that part. You never noticed it before. But after it's pointed out to you, you can't not hear it.

-You love a particular snack. But until you told your friends about this, they'd never heard of nor seen it sold anywhere -- but since you told them, they see it all the time. They even will send you a message when they find it somewhere. "This makes me think of you"

 

So: 

 

If you're anxious, discouraged, disheartened, cynical -- I'm not going to say there's no legit reason for this. The world puts us all on blast every moment telling us what sucks and what's getting worse.

 

But I will ask: if you want more hope, more encouragement, less anxiety, less cynicism ... what are you purposefully looking at that'll point out to you those sources of hope? What are you looking at that'll show you why there's reason to feel encouraged? Where are you looking to that's committed to lessening your anxiety or cynicism? 

 

Who in your life reminds you of these things? Who in your news feed shows this to you? 

 

It's naively idealistic to think we can thrive without intentionally looking for what's hopeful, encouraging, authentic, true, or noble. If your social media feed is 15% encouragement and 85% doom and gloom, it's reasonable to presume your mood and mindset would correlate to this.

  

Perhaps this is why the apostle Paul writes (while he's in prison!) in Philippians 4 to his hearers about this:

 

Truth is, our minds will fill with something. Ergo, we gotta watch what we think about and put into our minds (just like we gotta watch what we eat and drink to maintain our health). 

 

We see what we look at. What are you looking at?

 

peaking

We love the defying-the-odds stories, stories of second and third chances.

The true stories of athletes craftily finding ways to still compete (here, here, & here, for example). 

 

The true story of professional ballerina Wendy Whelan, who brilliantly kept on performing years past the typical age of ballerinas.

Or the true story of pro boxer George Foreman. He lost his boxing championship to Muhammad Ali at his peak physical condition of 25 years old...

then retired soon after, totally left the profession for 10 years...

...but regained the same boxing championship, about 20 years after losing to Ali.

 

Not just athletes, of course.

There's the true story of singer Mavis Staples, all of 71 years old when she won her inaugural Grammy ... even though she'd received her first Grammy nomination four (!!) decades earlier. 

I could go on with more examples. 

There's a reason we gravitate to these stories. It encourages us to hear examples of triumph with people who succeeded, despite not being at what we might presume is their peak condition.

For me, these true stories relieve me. I hope they relieve you as well.

 

They remind me that should an opportunity come my way, and even if I KNOW I'm not at my best, there still could be a way to work it out. It's a relief to remember that I can still have off days. 

 

You can have off days as well. Doesn't mean all is lost.

We don't know when our chances will come with whatever God would have us pursuing.

And yes, of course: we should try to make much of whatever chances we're given. But it's false to believe that we're gonna blow it unless we're at our absolute best.

Real-life examples remind us this isn't true. Real-life examples from ancient times and places remind us this isn't true.

So this is why I love stories of a near 50-year-old champ, a quinquagenarian ballerina, or a 71-year-old Grammy winner. No doubt they were not as sharp as their younger selves. 

 

Mavis's voice couldn't lilt about the higher notes like it once could. 

 

Wendy's joints required more upkeep than her 23-year-old self. 

 

Big George couldn't bounce around the boxing ring as deftly as his younger self.

They weren't at their peak. But they were still good enough for when the opportunity came. 

Whew.

 

sewer rat-sorta hope

Let's take some of the sepia-enhance filter off what we consider as hope. In order for our hope to be more than just wispy wishes, our hope needs grit.

Hope can't be a dainty, sickly flower that only survives in dry, semi-shade terrain, free of bugs and any foot traffic. It's gotta be like a dandelion; a weed, capable of surviving any and all conditions. Oh, you think you got rid of the dandelion because you mowed the lawn? Surprise, mother-grass cutter: it's back.

Hope can't be that women's cardigan with super explicit laundering instructions ("Wash Cold by itself in Distilled, Filtered, Non-Tap Water, Turned Inside Out, on Delicate Cycle. Once cleaned, lay flat to dry across bamboo-infused slats with 1/4 inch separation between slats, taking care to smooth out any wrinkles. Use organic latex gloves when laundering for best results.") Hope needs fortitude. 

Hope needs to be the sturdy, well-constructed t-shirt that be be washed hot, cold, with any other clothes. You can spill on it, bleed on it, and it'll get clean. It can be dried hot or medium, or not at all. Over and over. For years.

Hope can't be the affluent house cat that only eats specially formulated canned food purchased at the most expensive pet store in town. Hope has to be the sewer rat: capable of digesting anything, willing to forage and subsist on scraps and cold sludge. Willing to live with the gunk of life to find its way.

You get the idea. 

The hope that God gives needs to be able to hold onto us when we lack the strength, the resolve, the willpower to hold onto it. Hope kept away in a glass case is not hope. Hope needs training. The gnarly part of this is that the only way hope gets to be this tough, this rugged, is by enduring setback after setback, disappointment after disappointment, interrupted occasionally by glimmers of progress and love.

We like the look of a battle-tested warrior or sage when she's resolute, standing firm, digging in. She only got that way by enduring countless smaller blows and training.

Are you in such a place these days? You taking the setbacks and defeats, trying to stand up underneath them? This is how hope that endures and withstands is formed. 

We get knocked back, and not gently. We get our bearings, clear the stars from our eyes. We rise, and we push again forward.

best imposter of myself

Imposter syndrome club, at some time or another, has counted us all as members.

"I'm not good enough to be here," we mutter to ourselves about [pick the situation]. "I don't belong. I'm such a fraud, an imposter."

This could be a friend group. A class, a degree program, or a school. A club. A relationship. A team. A job. An opportunity. You name it. Friends could tell us we belong; people wiser than us can affirm that we're up to the challenge ahead of us. People that know us, and love us, can bellow into our faces all day long these assertions.

But still, these positive reinforcements clang off our self-imposed armor of suck like jump shots off the backboard.

How do we step around this self-doubt?

I propose some ways to bypass this imposter syndrome (in other words, these are some ways that've helped me).

Bypass Way #1: Let's face facts. We suck ... at assessing ourselves when it comes to certain things.

This should not be news to you, or to me. Sort of how we can't tell when we have a piece of food stuck between our front teeth, but others can notice right away.

Sometimes, we need to admit that others can offer us a fairer assessment about ourselves than we can. Not just anyone else, but wise people who love us, want us to succeed, and who wish us well. We gotta recognize that their input is more accurate than our self-perception. In other words, we suck at fairly assessing ourselves. We gotta doubt our doubts.

Bypass Way #2: Let's re-frame imitating and pretending. 

What's so wrong with imitating, pretending to be something we're not quite?

Hear me out.

As little kids, we felt zero qualms about imitating, and playing pretend. We pretended we were doctors, musicians, fashion designers, scientists, construction workers, professional athletes, or soldiers. 

What all did you pretend to be? 

Our playgrounds, stages, and imaginations held court to so many instances of us pretending to be someone we weren't. 

You've done this. I have too.

Who hasn't stood in front of a mirror, holding a comb, and pretended to to be a famous singer?

But somewhere along the way, we got this idea that if we're watching and imitating others to a degree, we must be fake. We must be imposters. But we didn't always regard imitating and copying this way. 

I tell you this to remind you that imitating isn't always bad. It's often good and wise. 

A chef learns how to expertly cut vegetables by watching someone else do it first. A carpenter learns how to expertly use equipment by first apprenticing and watching someone else work. We all imitate. You're only really aware that you do this, and don't give much thought to if anyone else does. Imitating doesn't make you an imposter. There's wisdom in following an example.

Bypass Way #3: It's not a one-time fix. Imposter syndrome isn't something we overcome once, and that's that. A mentor taught me to think of battling imposter syndrome as akin to pulling weeds. Weeds never, ever go away for good. But weeds can be uprooted and thrown out to allow good plants to flourish. The more we fight the feeling of being an imposter, the easier the fight gets.

So pretty please, try these bypasses when you feel something like an imposter, a fraud ... when you feel like you don't belong.

Trust the words of loved ones as much (if not more) than you trust your own thoughts.

Remember everyone's long history of imitating, and how much we've grown by copying wise examples in our lives.

And keep after those weeds.

It gets easier.

divine discontent

"Being single is a gift from God." 

Oh, this phrase pissed me off whenever I heard it. 

If this is true (a point I won't entirely concede): as a college student and then as a young adult, I reacted to this axiom as a young kid might react to receiving clothes as a birthday present: technically useful, and yes, technically a gift.

But let's be honest: Not all "gifts" elicit the same joyful gratitude, for good reason. 

When and where this gift of singleness can become tiresome:

-When the slow songs start at the formals, the dances, the weddings. That's when some of you head for the bathroom (or outside, or to the bar, or anywhere else but on the dance floor).

-Walking on campus or down a sidewalk ... seeing couples walking together, holding hands, or happily chatting with one another.

-Nights and weekends. Somehow, any loneliness experienced during these times distinctly agitated my heart and inner monologue.

-Holidays. Especially holidays that involve seeing family and loved ones. Arbor Day is probably OK though (unless you're crushing on a horticulturist).

-National Boyfriend/Girlfriend Day on social media.

-Third-wheeling it with the friend who seems to always be dating someone, or is in a situationship that's looking solid.

-Engagement parties for friends.

-Valentine's Day. Enough said.

-Hearing about someone's situationship, and wondering when (or if) someone will ask you out. 

To be fair, I did not acutely feel this ache of singleness all the time, every day.

Some weeks and months felt easier.

Other weeks and months felt harder.

Different people will offer different perspectives on this, many no doubt wiser than mine. So please take my words alongside those of others in your life whom you trust.

As a young person who didn't always enjoy being single, what did it often feel like?

It felt like I had more capability as a person than I could show. Wanting an opportunity. It was as though I knew I could run faster than what my shoes could sustain, if only given a chance. A divine discontent stuck with me -- sometimes quieter, sometimes louder.

I say 'divine' discontent because it felt like my discontent was part of how God created me. I wanted what I felt built to do -- to love someone with my whole heart.

To be all in.

To be known fully and fully loved, anyway. 

To have inside jokes and quirky backstories.

To be my actual weird self, and have someone say 'Yep -- that's what I'm looking for.'

Waiting, praying, and hoping for that slowly got easier (emphasis on s l o w l y). 

 

In the meantime, my unofficial mindset became: "I might as well keep busy, have fun, learn new stuff, stay grounded in my faith, and do meaningful work while I hope and pray for this."

 

If I met my future wife along the way? Splendid. If I met a bunch of cool people who brought much joy to my life by their presence and antics? Also splendid.

Being single included bountiful amounts of joy. Friends, trips, experiences, concerts, relationships, learning, laughing. My joy co-existed alongside this divine discontent of wanting. The waiting commingled hope and exasperation to varying degrees -- wondering when, how, and who.

Life was good, and I hoped for more. Both of these facts stayed true.

Is it possible to be single & happy? 

 

Absolutely! Our lives teem with examples around us every day that shout this truth.

 

The happiness will surge, and will fall back, like the tide. So take wholesome advantage of when you can contentedly build a sandcastle or dig for seashells. Eventually, the tide will surge again, and wash it out.

 

 

It can stink to watch the tide take away your sandcastle. There's no getting around that. 

 

And yet ... there'll be more chances to build new castles, find new seashells, and to see another shoreline sunset and sunrise.

 

 

 

Useful Reading:

Boundaries in Dating by Cloud & Townsend (Link here)

RSV to the P

"Say not, 'Why were the former days better than this?' For it is not from wisdom that one asks this." 

-Ecclesiastes 7:10

A best friend of mine's favorite book in the Bible is Ecclesiastes. It's a quick read. If you enjoy figuring out song lyrics, you'd like Ecclesiastes. If you're someone who doesn't enjoy it when people try to be naively optimistic, Ecclesiastes is for you.

If you want to skim through it (and you have a Bible nearby), it's about one-third of the way in. Psalms, Proverbs, then Ecclesiastes.

This above verse has clanged around in my brain lately. The hourly deluge of 'What's Catastrophically Wrong Today In the World' (i.e. daily headlines, social media feeds, news of evils and injustices small and large) can make it feel like everything (everywhere, all at once), is uniquely worse than ever before.

And yet. And yet this sage verse -- "Say not, 'Why were the former days better than this?' For it is not from wisdom that one asks this." -- re-grounds my daily perceptions in enduring reality:

a) It helps me resist believing the lie that life will be worse tomorrow. That's crucial. But it doesn't help me resist this by minimizing today's evils, or by turning a blind eye. It widens my view. It reminds me that for so many, this sort of evil and injustice is an old, long reality. Tomorrow won't be worse, because...

b) ...Yesterday wasn't always better. "Why can't it be like it used to be way back when? Used-to-be way back when was so good, and simple." That just isn't true. It helps me to resist giving too much stock to 'the good old days'.

c) It helps me resist a particular shame. You know, the kind of shame that comes when we learn something new, and then feel like we somehow should've known this information all along. We're not the only ones to believe this. Knowing this helps me resist feeling shame for once believing the world was better.

d) It reminds me that there are others who -- while they've fought injustice -- have also lived with and endured with such evils for a long, long time. It's nothing new. Therefore, I can't become impatient when evils and sin don't immediately disappear. That seldom happens. The patience of those who've more directly struggled with evil inspires me to check my impatience to want everything all fixed, right this instant.

Where does that leave me?

It leaves me skeptical, but not (quite as) jaded;
resolute, but not (quite as) naive;
playing catch-up, but resisting shame about needing to do that;
faithful, but not (as) surprised;
distressed, but (more) hopeful that one day, all that's wrong will be made right;
overwhelmed, but not (as) no longer believing there's nothing I can do;
motivated, but not (as) prone to thinking I can fix this through sheer effort.

So thankful this verse is here ... that way, when I need reminding, it's still written down. It's not going anywhere.

"Let's just make this clear: I have no idea what I'm doing. I am stumbling through this like everyone else." -Dr. E. McCaulley

Blessings on your week this week.

run like hell

It's almost too bad being a mouse in (or near) homes, buildings. You're poking around, darting here and there, minding your business. But then suddenly, you spot this unbelievably gorgeous piece of human food, just sitting there. 

Sure, the "platter" it's sitting on looks a little weird, but you crave this treat. You want it because you want it.

You cannot resist. You edge closer, wanting just a taste of of the delectable delight. This is usually how mice encounter a heaping dose of life-altering pain. 

It's also like this too, with temptations we face.

To be a human being in this world is to face temptation. Temptations tend toward something enticing, something beautiful, something enjoyable -- at first. But within the temptation is what would ruin us. A sweet outer shell that coats a bitter, poisonous core. It's either something good misused (money, food, friendship, drink, sex, language, etc), or something that's just rotten through and through.

And even though we may know it's not good for us -- we want it anyway.

For Christians, the reality of temptation appears in the fabric of the most known prayer in the Bible, the Lord's Prayer (lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil...). Let's be clear: having to face temptation is not a sin (by sin, I mean missing the mark -- misusing others, ourselves, the world around us for our own selfish ends).

My pastor, during a sermon some years back, shared some bracing truths about humanity and temptation 

... mainly, that people continually overestimate their ability to withstand temptation in tempting scenarios. Pride comes before the fall.

When have you overestimated yourself in such scenarios? When have done something you previously thought -- or swore -- that you'd never do? It's happened to my friends. It's happened to me. It's probably happened to you, too.

The apostle Paul had this to say about temptation, in his first letter to the church in Corinth, Greece. 

"Therefore let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed, lest he fall. No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to [people]. God is faithful, and he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation God will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. Therefore, my beloved, flee from idolatry." (1 Corinthians 10:12-14)

A few points to spot:

a) "let anyone who thinks he stands take heed, lest he fall" -- the mere presumption that we're self-sufficiently strong enough to withstand a temptation becomes a warning sign. 

b) "No temptation has overtaken you except such as is common to [people]" It can encourage us to remember that whatever temptations we face are not unique to us. Yes, our backstories, particulars may differ from other people. But the object of temptation isn't new to this world. In other words, you're not alone with what you face. Other people have faced it. You can too.

c) "he will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, with the temptation God will also provide the way of escape, that you may be able to endure it." God will always provide a way out of temptation's snare. The way out might not be easy. The way it may cost. But there's a way out. Take the way out whenever you can. 

 Clamber for the escape. Keep fighting to get away.

d) "Therefore, my beloved, flee from idolatry." If (for example) you struggle with gambling, God's not going to be impressed by how well you abstain -- in the presence of slot machines, at a casino -- from betting money. The Lord's counsel is to flee.

To run like hell. To stay far, far away. To recoil back from temptation, and to RUN from it.

e) "God is faithful" However deep or longstanding your temptation may be, and however many times you've tried to break free and have not yet, God's faithfulness outlasts, outreaches, out-shouts. No temptation can break God's faithfulness to us. Our temptations don't get the last word, ever. 

Rest on these words, sisters and brothers. It's OK to run like hell away from temptations. It's often the wiser course of action to take. Temptations are harder to resist than we think.

dreams, plans, God, all y'all

Cooperating with God's plans for life can make people uneasy, for a few reasons. Well, I should speak for myself: deciding to cooperate God's plans for my life has made me uneasy (and sometimes still does).

Here's why: God's not the only one with plans. I have life plans too. We all do. We dream dreams. We harbor hopes. It challenges us to figure out how (or if) some of our hopes and dreams fit with God's plans.

I've sometimes thought that -- in order to follow God's plans for my life -- I'd have to, as a prerequisite, kiss goodbye and detonate other cherished dreams and hopes. I'd have to walk away from them, and never look back.

(walking away as dramatically as possible, of course...)

You ever feel like this?  I'm sure you do. It's wrenching to consider. 

This came to my mind while watching some rehab work on a nearby home. In the span of a few hours, workers totally ripped the front porch base away!

And yet, they only removed the porch base. The existing roof and columns remain, dangling there (it's honestly a silly sight, these spindly 2x12's supporting everything). There's a clear purpose for utilizing this makeshift support: a new porch will soon be built where the old one was. The new porch will connect, incorporate, and support the existing roof and columns.

This is comparable to our plans, and God's plans.

Don't hear what I'm not saying: following God's plans could mean letting go of some dreams, hopes and wants. That happens.

It could mean letting go of that person. Letting go of a professional status. Letting go of the name-brand coffee. Letting go of the gaming record. Letting go of a coping mechanism that's served us OK, but no longer does. Letting go of bragging rights. Letting go of a personal identity painstakingly duct-taped together. Letting go of cramped security. Letting go of that subscription. Letting go of the pride. Letting go of that crowd. Letting go of rights. Letting go of having the last word.

But God has a way, a track record, of making use and re-purposing new plans alongside (some of) what we've learned along the way of chasing our dreams, so that eventually, nothing whatsoever goes to waste. He also, in time, replaces dashed dreams with dreams better than we could have possibly imagined.

Sometimes God's plans for us means we need a stronger base foundation, so as to be ready for what the dreams may eventually require of us. So we grit it out.

Sometimes it means we're in a holding pattern, dangling by some spindly supports while we wait for that new, firmer footing. So we trust.

Sometimes we're the rickety porch, needing repair, having no choice but to trust the builder will be able to distinguish between what needs replacing, and what's worth salvaging. So we wait, and hope.

Right now, it's just boards holding up this porch roof. But when the work is done with this porch, it'll look better -- and will be stronger -- than before.

hope, and wisdom

When I hear news that hurts, I personally gravitate toward an Irish-influenced disposition (not that any of you asked; I just thought you'd be interested to know). 

By 'Irish disposition', I mean that I dislike any syrupy, tone-deaf optimism response to heartbreaking news ... but on the flip side, I also don't want to project a grim, doom-and-gloom aesthetic onto everything either. 

(I'm not even really sure there's anything strictly Irish about this sort of reaction. It could just be me. It's probably not that important. I digress.)

Two words percolate in my mind and heart when I hear news that hurts, try to take a break from scanning headlines of news that hurts, and try to filter fact from hysteria: 

Hope. And also wisdom.

Every world faith tradition has resources for dealing with suffering and calamity. As a Christian, I'm most familiar with my own faith's resources, so it's fitting to share from within that. 

There's this passage in the New Testament book of Matthew, chapter 2, when an angel visits Joseph & Mary (Jesus' parents) to warn them of danger, and tells them the plan for what they should do. Jesus is a baby at this point. This passage, with its blend of hope and wisdom, has long stuck with me...

".....behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, 'Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him.' And [Joseph] rose and took the child and his mother by night and departed to Egypt and remained there until the death of Herod."

The hope the presence of the angel. In Scripture, angels are nothing like the Precious Moments figurines that collect dust on your great aunt's bookshelf, wearing doilies and adorable harps; they are warriors, and look quite alarming. In fact, almost every time an angel meets someone in the Bible, the angel has to say 'Do not be afraid!' Why? Because they look fearfully strong, and genuinely threatening. So if they have your back, you'd feel good about your odds in a tight spot.

And yet, the wisdom -- 'Rise, take your child and his mother, and flee...'  The angel, this warrior, this messenger of God, has just one command:

RUN. 

Hit the road. Get out of here. Flee.

Who cares if the car's all the packed, start the engine! Less chatting, more moving. Hurry, hurry.

There's nothing fancy about these words.

The angel avoids syrupy optimism ... "just believe it'll all work out, and it will!" 

Nor does the angel turn gloomy -- "This sucks, why bother? All is lost..." 

Nor does the angel take a defiant stance ... "I'll never let them get to you!"

It's none of this. The fact that there's something to do invites hope! But there's urgency too. Scripture-infused hope always includes some wise, anchoring roots in this world.

Hope and wisdom, woven together. 

This is where I find my emotions today amidst continual washing ashore of heartbreaking news.

There's hope amidst all this going on. And urgent wisdom to observe in the meantime.

Where does this leave you with whatever you're dealing with? Which do you lean toward carrying with you ... the hope, or the wisdom? The euphoria, or the gloom?

When my feelings start to tank toward doom-and-gloom, I try to remind myself that the angel's words carried hope. When my feelings get euphoric and invincible, I remember the angel, the powerful angel, told them to run.

May we continue in hope. And may we anchor this hope in wisdom.

did God just open (or close) that door?

Maybe you've heard about what God does with doors.

God opens doors. Or God closes doors.

 

We walk through doors that God opens for us. We walk away from the doors that God closes to us. Sounds fairly simple, doesn't it?

 

Perhaps. But not always.

 

For most of my life, I've heard this paradigm in the context of how to discern situations and life choices. And for most of my life, this made sense to me. 

 

But then I heard a talk once that challenged my reflex thinking, and I recorded the quote and wrote it down because it rocked me that much.

 

"Christians get a little too caught up in the open door, closed door thing. They say, 'Well, I'm praying about getting married, or trying some new job, or learning some new skill, and I'm going to see if the Lord opens a door or closes a door.

 

You know, sometimes the door is open. Sometimes the door is closed. And sometimes you need to tear the door off the hinges. 

 

Sometimes you have to say, 'This is a closed door, and God isn't going to make it easy for me.' You look at all the quest stories in the Bible, time after time, God throws up one obstacle, maybe two obstacles, puts people off, makes them face some barrier, and after they face that barrier and persevere, then God gives it to them." -Dr. DD

 

This continually encourages me.  

God's plans for life seldom fit so simply into a closed door/open door paradigm.

 

As I've accrued life and experiences, I'd rarely describe God's will for my life feeling as easy as waltzing through a wide-open door. In fact, few things in life are that easy (except of course, walking through actual doors, particularly supermarket doors that open as you approach). 

 

Usually, it feels like...

-building the door frame,

-securing the frame in place for the door,

-sanding the frame,

-pulling out the splinters accrued from sanding the frame,

-finding the tools to build the door,

-finding the lumber,

-and THEN getting to work on building a door.

 

A takeaway point from this?

 

Often, what's best for life and what God desires for me will involve actual struggle, because ... it's actual life. It will take real effort, and it'll rarely be as easy as walking through an open door. It'll require more of me (and of you) than that. 

 

Give this some thought. 

Luke 11:5-13

boredom is a friend we need

 

Boredom kinda seems like that acquaintance/friend you’ve met once or twice, and the conversation kinda lagged. Then you’re both invited to hang with mutual friends, but everyone bails except you two … so you hang out, even though you don’t like spending time with boredom. You're not sure how it's supposed to go, how to keep the conversation going. And the passing of the time downshifts from the speedy hum of wireless ... to that clunkiness of analog.

Boredom kinda seems like that it recognizes that song that points out our aversion to it: “Why are you so petrified of silence … here, can you handle this?!? [SILENCE for a few seconds] Did you think about your bills, your ex, your deadlines, or when you think you’re gonna die / Or did you long for the next distraction?” Many of us seek out that next distraction … attending our eyes from computer screen, to smartphone screen, to computer screen, to tablet screen, to smartphone screen, all the day through. Raise your hand if this is also you (it's not totally your fault ... these devices are purposefully designed to perpetuate this behavior).

There’s this phenomenon where, during the night hours, we can hear AM radio stations much, much farther away from their signal source. It has to do with the refractive layers of the ionosphere being higher from the earth's surface at night than the daytime. I see this as a canopy over the earth, being lifted higher on cue every night ... to open the windows of the sky and let fresh air in, as it were.

I sometimes imagine our inner reality in this way ... when we're hustling to avoid having to hang out with boredom (because we prefer our familiar distractions) there's so much to find to attend to, and accomplish, to peruse. Deadlines. Projects. Catching up. Staying in touch. Watching that show. Deleting old emails {(then reading old emails you were supposed to be deleting). Cleaning your room. Cleaning your car. Responding to those texts. Checking back in with the parents. (Slightly) rearranging the closet. Such mundanities can keep that canopy from being lifted beyond where we prefer.

But when boredom lifts our inner canopy, there's this whole other kind of mulling, discerning, heart pondering that can occur. The questions tend to be less deadline-driven urgent, but just as important.

Is this relationship good for me and what I want, long-term? 

Am I doing what I'm doing because I'm trying to please (or appease) others, or is this what I want to do?

Why do I wear this shirt, even though I don't like it that much? 

Why did that friendship of mine fall away, and what role did I have in that? 

Whoa, where the heck is that smell coming from? 

How can I open myself up more to people, to make new friends? 

How can I relate differently to my family? 

How can I resist fear and anxiety from unduly limiting my life choices?

Seriously, what is causing that smell?? That's kinda nasty.

How do I tell my friend how proud I am of her?

What am I thankful for today?

Boredom allows space for these questions so we can meander about with them -- the canopy lifted so any weightiness isn't so compressed it's knocking us over. 

Boredom doesn't demand immediate answers, or immediate fixes. Boredom can help show us how to be around ourselves. It invites into the places of ourselves we don't often explore. It helps us get used to a more sustainable pace of living (because really, that life pace you're trying to keep up with? You know that won't work long-term). We're created not just to do, but to be. There's more to us than what we've done, where we've failed, where we've succeeded, who our parents are, where we come from.

So here's to boredom as a friend we need, among other friends.

With this, my hope and prayer for you is that when boredom sends that text that it wants to hang out ... you sometimes invite it over to hang out, and then set aside the screen in front of you for awhile. Y'all can kick around some of these important questions that life's deadline urgency always pushes aside. 

And while you're at it, figure out where that smell's coming from.