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.

 

tightrope illusion

It feels quite suffocating to try to live life without making one mistake.

The tightrope is wide enough for our feet, but we gotta step with our utmost concentration. 

One stutter step, and we plummet.

Can't take the wrong class (or the wrong professor for the right class). Can't say the awkward thing. Can't smile too eagerly at a new face. Can't wear those shoes to this event (might not be demure, after all). Can't wave too enthusiastically at a new friend. Can't pick the wrong major. Can't shoot your shot with your crush wrongly. Can't drop a fork on the floor.

"Don't grab

Don't clutch

Don't hope for too much

Don't breathe

Don't achieve

Don't grieve without leave" -Numb

Picture this: you're babysitting your older sibling's toddler. They start to take steps and walk while holding onto the edge of a couch. But instead of a normal, encouraging response, this is what you say instead: "You just now figured this out?!? What a joke. Hey, look at me walk. It's a lot better, isn't it? Compared to me, you suck at walking."

If I could invent an unsustainable, crushing way to live, demanding perpetual self-perfection would be a part of it. 

Perfection sucks. Pursuing perfection paralyzes everything else. Let's instead aim for progress. Progress, when consistently pursued, can become excellence.

Progress advances in leaps, 

...in stutter steps, 

...in failures because we tried, 

...in inches, 

...in depth, 

...and/or in setbacks we learn from. 

Any of those advances counts as progress.

So why do we so often not notice progress even when we accomplish it? 

Maybe we're looking too closely at it, like trying to assess our own eye exam. You can either look into the phoroptor, or you can assess externally ... but you can't do both at the same time. 

It's as hard to notice our progress as it is to notice (without a mirror) when we have a tiny piece of food stuck in our front teeth.

We gotta trust the external feedback when it tells us, "yo, you got something caught up there in your chompers" and also when they say "yo, you are making progress, even though it doesn't feel like it. I can see it."

Numb (song by U2)

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.