Today, I made beer with a good friend. A good friend who is on the "newer" side of my life.
Tomorrow, I will drive home and work on fixing my car with my dad. When I was growing up, I wouldn't be caught dead fixing my car with my dad. Somehow I thought I was too good for it, or it was too tedious, or it just wasn't pleasing. Right now, the idea of fixing my own car with the tutelage of my dad sounds like the best way to have a car be fixed. I'm looking forward to it. It will be fulfilling.
...
A lot of things are on the "newer" side of my life. A lot of people that I spend the most time with now are not the friends I spent the most time with while in college.
A lot of the things I do in my spare time are not the things I did in my spare time in college.
I appreciate and consider my family and their place in my life now more than I ever have before.
The people I've known the longest are the people I seem to know the least anymore.
...
I developed a strong attachment to nostalgia when I was in my senior year of high school. The sense of impending (and drastic) change created this self-awareness that the life that was most important then would not be important soon after. I knew, somewhere inside, that everything I was experiencing was soon not only going to be a memory, but it was going to FEEL like a memory. It wasn't going to be my life anymore.
And that's what happened.
...
I moved away. I lost connections. I lost intimacy with nearly everyone I used to be close to. New things became important and old things became immature.
And I knew that was coming. I knew that the progressive characteristic of life was stronger than my nostalgia, so it was best served before the moment changed; in the moment where I could still appreciate what I was experiencing. People, places, conversations, passions, ambitions, jokes, events.
...
Things seem to always be moving toward the next "newer." That isn't a bad thing, and most of you are saying, "duh!", but it is strange to wander into one of those moods where the pace that life seems to move at is so unstoppable and inevitable. I am obviously in one of those moods right now.
It is strange how life progresses, or has been progressing for me. Actually, it is only strange when I think back to some of my previous ambitions for how my life would be progressing. Where I thought I would be going/wanted to go isn't necessarily where I'm going/can go.
And that just makes me wonder. And remember.
...
I remember when writing in this blog was one of the most important things to me. It still is. But it also isn't the same. It's meaning and place in my life has changed, in some ways out of necessity and others out of choice. But I remember how I used to think. I remember what this blog meant to me and where it meant I was going and what I was doing; this blog was the door frame that traced my height each week as I got taller, and taller, and taller. It was a marker, a measuring stick, an Ebenezer, that marked where I've been and where I'm going.
It was my little space that was proof that I existed and had something to offer the world in any way.
I remember that so clearly. And I miss it. It was fulfilling, it worked, and it was simple.
...
When I look at this blog now, I feel a mixture of pride, guilt, sadness, and joy.
Pride that I was able to say things I believed and that meant something to me, and that a few people have found meaning in some of my words too.
Guilt that I haven't maintained it as what it used to be.
Sadness that the change in this blog suggests there is a change in me. Regardless of good or bad, this is a change I wish was different.
And joy that it is still here, even if less recent and full. It exists and can go with me as long as I'll have it.
...
All this progress towards "newer" leaves so much behind. Not by choice, but by principle. "Newer" means that something current needs to become "older." People need to shift categories. Places, ideas, hopes, dreams, habits, books, movies, and almost everything else starts to shift categories just because one day ends and another comes.
And we can't take it all with us. We shouldn't. More importantly, we shouldn't want to. But isn't there a part of you that can appreciate the nostalgia you feel right now for the things that haven't even left yet? Because you know there are things you've left that you hardly miss, and that doesn't seem fair. You can't imagine that some of the things you have right now, the ones you know you won't have much longer, may one day not even be missed.
That is why nostalgia is most potent, for me, before something even changes.
...
People are adaptive. I'm adaptive, you're adaptive, and the next person you think about is adaptive too. We progress into "newer" because it's the way the world is. It was made that way. And that is okay.
Good things come. Many of the best things in our lives are still far ahead of most of you that read this. Those of you who think that none of the best is still ahead of you, I bet you have a few surprises coming your way. And the same is true for me.
...
I suppose the strongest nostalgic emotion I feel comes when I wonder which of my current motivating hopes or dreams will be the next I classify as "immature" or let go of. What is the next thing that plays such a crucial role in my life that will be replaced by something newer?
...
I made beer tonight with a "newer" friend who is a great man. I live with a "newer" friend who is one of the most patient and calm people I've ever met. I'm dating a girl I barely knew till after my junior year, and she is wonderful.
I used to never want to work with my dad on my cars. The "newer" me finds that experience invaluable.
I wonder what's next.
...
Peace.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Rest & Progress
As I lay in my bed staring at my alarm clock radio that is playing classical music fron NPR, the digital numbers change from 10:19pm to 10:20pm, and I think to myself "another minute of this life I can never get back." Then my glance shoots over to my movie poster of Donnie Darko and I daydream about the film I am working on with some friends and think about all the work that needs to be done and how unfulfilled my days seem right now and have seemed over the past 3 or so months. I think about how much more I want to do with my life and all the things I wish I was doing and making and creating. I think about the legacy I am not building.
10:21pm. And I lay in bed.
...
First of all, I have to confess that my bed isn't really a bed-bed. It's a futon with a thick mattress that I never fold into a futon. I just thought it wouldn't be fair for you to be daydreaming about my current environment and have that detail be all wrong.
Secondly, I find myself constantly reverting back to a desire for progress.
I want progress in my life. I need to feel like I am going somewhere, like I am doing something larger with my life rather than just sitting and going about my routine while missing all the bigger things I could be a part of.
...
I think some of this comes out of a recent narrative theology that I really like to think about. I only call it recent because it is something I came across about 4 years ago, although its been around for decades longer. Basically this theology says that we are all part of the story of this world and that the main plot is about God creating this world and everything in it (like us) and how the world didn't obey God so it got all mucked up. Then God sends his Son to the world to fix it once and for all through a sacrificial, not disciplinary way, and now the world is slowly being fixed through its own efforts, but those are only possible because of what God's son did. And the end of the story is that someday God's son will come back again and really fix everything once and for all and all the progress we will have made will be peanuts compared to what he will do.
Peanuts. All our progress will be peanuts.
...
I am caught in between these 2 ideas. This idea that we all play an, all things considered, very small role in the story of this world but it is our role and we must play it. And that is a role where we move in ways that reveal who God's son is and show people what he has done.
But that isn't the only story we think about.
As a matter of fact, it is probably not even the story we think about most often. The story we think about most often is the one where we are the main character. We live that story every moment of our lives, so it is no surprise that it is a big deal to us.
Now, isn't it interesting to think that there are basically 2 billion people all over the world all thinking the exact same thing as us? We have 2 billion people all thinking that the most important story is the one about them. 2 billion more-important-than-everyone-else's stories.
...
This blog isn't to talk about how our stories aren't the focus of our lives. I think that is true, but the question that inevitably comes is, "well then how do I live my story in meaningful ways that contribute to the larger story of God and this world while also feeling like my story is worthwhile and fulfilling?" The reason I won't talk about that is because it is going to be very different for every person and there are other people who have written better answers to that question than I could ever dream up.
No, this blog is about rest and progress. Yes, we have work to be done and yes we may always feel like we are not doing all that we should (especially if we are unhappy and antsy in our current stage of life). At the same time, I have found it helpful to think about the way God created us.
Don't worry, this isn't the part of the blog where I start quoting Lady GaGa (although she is awesome).
Just think about all the options and choices God had when he made us. God chose to make us beings that get tired. He chose to make us beings that need sleep every single day. He chose to make us people who needed rest and who couldn't just work and work and work and build and build and build. We get to points where we must stop and our bodies demand rest.
If progress was all that mattered to God, then he could have made us differently.
...
There is something to that, I think. There is something that is important to understand that sometimes the clock might just tick and tick and tick and that is okay. Just because we can see the clock ticking doesn't mean we have done something wrong or aren't doing something right. Sometimes it just means that it's bed time. Or it's nap time. Or it's the weekend. Or Ghost Whisperer is on and there are another 14 minutes until Without A Trace comes on. You get it.
...
This is not a blog to encourage sloth. Laziness is a captivating and evil little guy that only grows worse and worse until we somehow pull ourselves out of it and feel the sunlight and recognize the err of our ways. All I want to say is that there are seasons in life just like there are seasons in the year and their are different times of day. Some of those seasons may be slow, but just take that to mean that other parts of your story are right around the corner. And I bet you that coming season will be a little more exciting than where you've just been.
...
Remember, God rested on the 7th day.
10:44pm. Sweet dreams.
...
Peace.
10:21pm. And I lay in bed.
...
First of all, I have to confess that my bed isn't really a bed-bed. It's a futon with a thick mattress that I never fold into a futon. I just thought it wouldn't be fair for you to be daydreaming about my current environment and have that detail be all wrong.
Secondly, I find myself constantly reverting back to a desire for progress.
I want progress in my life. I need to feel like I am going somewhere, like I am doing something larger with my life rather than just sitting and going about my routine while missing all the bigger things I could be a part of.
...
I think some of this comes out of a recent narrative theology that I really like to think about. I only call it recent because it is something I came across about 4 years ago, although its been around for decades longer. Basically this theology says that we are all part of the story of this world and that the main plot is about God creating this world and everything in it (like us) and how the world didn't obey God so it got all mucked up. Then God sends his Son to the world to fix it once and for all through a sacrificial, not disciplinary way, and now the world is slowly being fixed through its own efforts, but those are only possible because of what God's son did. And the end of the story is that someday God's son will come back again and really fix everything once and for all and all the progress we will have made will be peanuts compared to what he will do.
Peanuts. All our progress will be peanuts.
...
I am caught in between these 2 ideas. This idea that we all play an, all things considered, very small role in the story of this world but it is our role and we must play it. And that is a role where we move in ways that reveal who God's son is and show people what he has done.
But that isn't the only story we think about.
As a matter of fact, it is probably not even the story we think about most often. The story we think about most often is the one where we are the main character. We live that story every moment of our lives, so it is no surprise that it is a big deal to us.
Now, isn't it interesting to think that there are basically 2 billion people all over the world all thinking the exact same thing as us? We have 2 billion people all thinking that the most important story is the one about them. 2 billion more-important-than-everyone-else's stories.
...
This blog isn't to talk about how our stories aren't the focus of our lives. I think that is true, but the question that inevitably comes is, "well then how do I live my story in meaningful ways that contribute to the larger story of God and this world while also feeling like my story is worthwhile and fulfilling?" The reason I won't talk about that is because it is going to be very different for every person and there are other people who have written better answers to that question than I could ever dream up.
No, this blog is about rest and progress. Yes, we have work to be done and yes we may always feel like we are not doing all that we should (especially if we are unhappy and antsy in our current stage of life). At the same time, I have found it helpful to think about the way God created us.
Don't worry, this isn't the part of the blog where I start quoting Lady GaGa (although she is awesome).
Just think about all the options and choices God had when he made us. God chose to make us beings that get tired. He chose to make us beings that need sleep every single day. He chose to make us people who needed rest and who couldn't just work and work and work and build and build and build. We get to points where we must stop and our bodies demand rest.
If progress was all that mattered to God, then he could have made us differently.
...
There is something to that, I think. There is something that is important to understand that sometimes the clock might just tick and tick and tick and that is okay. Just because we can see the clock ticking doesn't mean we have done something wrong or aren't doing something right. Sometimes it just means that it's bed time. Or it's nap time. Or it's the weekend. Or Ghost Whisperer is on and there are another 14 minutes until Without A Trace comes on. You get it.
...
This is not a blog to encourage sloth. Laziness is a captivating and evil little guy that only grows worse and worse until we somehow pull ourselves out of it and feel the sunlight and recognize the err of our ways. All I want to say is that there are seasons in life just like there are seasons in the year and their are different times of day. Some of those seasons may be slow, but just take that to mean that other parts of your story are right around the corner. And I bet you that coming season will be a little more exciting than where you've just been.
...
Remember, God rested on the 7th day.
10:44pm. Sweet dreams.
...
Peace.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
The Christian's Goal
I have often misunderstood what my goals are supposed to be since I have been a Christian. At one time or another, all of the following have been my goals as a Christian: tell others when they were doing something wrong, get others to follow Jesus, be as pious as possible, be nice to others, get to heaven when I die, and help change the world.
I’m sure there are a host of others I was hell-bent on, and to be fair all of these goals are still goals I have in my faith in some respect. They are a lot more complicated to me than the simple list you just read, but they still exist in my faith in and are priorities. I think a problem arises when these smaller tangible goals become paramount and the primary matters in our faith.
We start detaching these little goals from what I believe the real goal of being a Christian is: to present Christ to the world through your life.
…
To be fair, in some situations that will mean telling people when they are doing something wrong, or very directly telling a person about who Jesus Christ is, or simply being kind and graceful to a person who needs to be treated that way. All of those goals I listed are actually just little practices that are part the larger goal of showing the world who Jesus is.
…
My biggest stumbling block hasn’t actually been being stuck on one of those smaller goals I listed above. My hang-up has been that I have become short-sighted with my own change as a person. I started to believe that the goal of being a Christian was becoming more of who I am supposed to be and less who I am.
Although the process my sanctification and redemption is very important, it shouldn‘t be what my faith is all about.
…
We don’t love the process for the process’ sake (although we do start to really enjoy its challenges and rhythms). Instead, we change who we are because we want to point to Christ. Think about what you would feel when someone, anyone, Christian or not, gets a clearer vision or experience of Christ because of something you were a part of.
You will feel joy.
This is the realization that I think fuels the writers of the New Testament; the same people that urge us to endure, to hold on, and to rejoice in our sufferings. It is not only because of a reward we will receive for ourselves later, but also because we truly believe we are doing a service to Christ and others. We are helping restore the most important relationship that could exist; we are restoring people to see Christ.
…
I’ve always marveled at the people whose faith has seemed so strong and consistent that they carry this sense of peace and joy with them no matter what. And I wonder if those things come out of a very clear sense of what they are doing, why they are doing it, and how they feel about what they are doing.
And don’t misunderstand me to be using the word “doing” to mean any kind of specific task or project. I mean the way people live their lives holistically. I’m sure there are some very specific things they are involved in or practices they faithfully keep, but I am talking about the way these believers do everything.
…
I, for one, have become guilty of being really enamored with the beauty of what I consider the personal process of being a Christian. The subtle, slow, graceful, sometimes painful, sometimes reliving process of being restored and renewed and reclaimed as something I was meant to be. It brings me to tears to think about the memories I have of specific moments where I suddenly became conscious that it was happening in that very moment. It is a beautiful process that I have fallen in love with.
Even still, that process can become so romanticized and euphoric that it is almost like a drug. And when the process is more painful and than relieving, we are stranded on this isle of dissatisfaction looking at the coast wondering where all the joy went.
…
That is a malformed lens to see our faith in because we have made it about us (making our faith about us is something we are incredibly good at). To have the source of our joy be our mission to point to Jesus makes it less about us, more about Jesus, and more about others. If we can have confidence that that is why we are here and what we are always working towards, then perhaps our joy won’t be so fleeting. Perhaps, as well, we will be more able to see ourselves as part of something larger than our own salvation; we can choose to be part of the redemption of everything in this world.
Now that is a joyful thought.
…
Peace.
I’m sure there are a host of others I was hell-bent on, and to be fair all of these goals are still goals I have in my faith in some respect. They are a lot more complicated to me than the simple list you just read, but they still exist in my faith in and are priorities. I think a problem arises when these smaller tangible goals become paramount and the primary matters in our faith.
We start detaching these little goals from what I believe the real goal of being a Christian is: to present Christ to the world through your life.
…
To be fair, in some situations that will mean telling people when they are doing something wrong, or very directly telling a person about who Jesus Christ is, or simply being kind and graceful to a person who needs to be treated that way. All of those goals I listed are actually just little practices that are part the larger goal of showing the world who Jesus is.
…
My biggest stumbling block hasn’t actually been being stuck on one of those smaller goals I listed above. My hang-up has been that I have become short-sighted with my own change as a person. I started to believe that the goal of being a Christian was becoming more of who I am supposed to be and less who I am.
Although the process my sanctification and redemption is very important, it shouldn‘t be what my faith is all about.
…
We don’t love the process for the process’ sake (although we do start to really enjoy its challenges and rhythms). Instead, we change who we are because we want to point to Christ. Think about what you would feel when someone, anyone, Christian or not, gets a clearer vision or experience of Christ because of something you were a part of.
You will feel joy.
This is the realization that I think fuels the writers of the New Testament; the same people that urge us to endure, to hold on, and to rejoice in our sufferings. It is not only because of a reward we will receive for ourselves later, but also because we truly believe we are doing a service to Christ and others. We are helping restore the most important relationship that could exist; we are restoring people to see Christ.
…
I’ve always marveled at the people whose faith has seemed so strong and consistent that they carry this sense of peace and joy with them no matter what. And I wonder if those things come out of a very clear sense of what they are doing, why they are doing it, and how they feel about what they are doing.
And don’t misunderstand me to be using the word “doing” to mean any kind of specific task or project. I mean the way people live their lives holistically. I’m sure there are some very specific things they are involved in or practices they faithfully keep, but I am talking about the way these believers do everything.
…
I, for one, have become guilty of being really enamored with the beauty of what I consider the personal process of being a Christian. The subtle, slow, graceful, sometimes painful, sometimes reliving process of being restored and renewed and reclaimed as something I was meant to be. It brings me to tears to think about the memories I have of specific moments where I suddenly became conscious that it was happening in that very moment. It is a beautiful process that I have fallen in love with.
Even still, that process can become so romanticized and euphoric that it is almost like a drug. And when the process is more painful and than relieving, we are stranded on this isle of dissatisfaction looking at the coast wondering where all the joy went.
…
That is a malformed lens to see our faith in because we have made it about us (making our faith about us is something we are incredibly good at). To have the source of our joy be our mission to point to Jesus makes it less about us, more about Jesus, and more about others. If we can have confidence that that is why we are here and what we are always working towards, then perhaps our joy won’t be so fleeting. Perhaps, as well, we will be more able to see ourselves as part of something larger than our own salvation; we can choose to be part of the redemption of everything in this world.
Now that is a joyful thought.
…
Peace.
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