Stubbornness, happiness, and humility

So one thing I've struggled with for the longest time is stubbornness. I just like to be right. Not only do I enjoy being right, I'd like to think that I've put a lot of time and effort into ensuring I'm right. When I speak, I hope that I am informed on the subject matter, that I've done some research into my topic, and that I can contribute something useful. When I am faced with opposition, I feel almost duty bound to make my side heard and to resolve the disagreement (generally by persuading someone to see things my way). I just like to be right.

One thing I've learned in marriage is that you can end up feeling really bad about being right. Sometimes that satisfaction that used to come with being right is now accompanied by feelings of guilt, remorse, frustration, pride, and all sorts of other not-so-great things. What used to be one of my favorite things can now be something very conflicting. In light of this, I have come across a question that has helped me let go when being right isn't feeling all that great. The question in question is this: Would you rather be right, or be happy? What a great way to reframe this sort of tension that accompanies being right in the wrong ways, and the ill consequences of being right at the expense of someone you care deeply for.

But then, as I was thinking today, I feel like God was giving me something more to chew on. It's this very reflection that has spurred me to post tonight. At volleyball, I got in an argument over a ruling with an opposing player, and later after the game apologized for the way I handled it on the court. This encounter led me to consider the following. Sometimes I may be neither right, nor happy. The higher calling, in situations where I feel like I just wanted to be right and win, might just be to submit.

Now I don't mean to suggest that one relinquish their morals, or compromise their identity, but rather that there are times when I talk to people that I am called to be a light. I'm not so great at evangelism, and often shy away from sharing my faith in bold ways, and I often justify that by telling myself that I will let my actions speak for me. Since I take this stance, I think I need to consider that to be right and to let everyone know how smart I am only serves to communicate how great I am. In fact, it could diminish God's work in me, encourage me to rely only on myself, and show people how little God is doing through me. Likewise, to go through disagreements in a disconnected manner to simply placate others seems unappealing to me. Happiness is cool, but I don't think it is something I should strive for in times of conflict.

Ultimately, if every time I get into a disagreement I can judge the importance of the issue at hand and begin to consciously decide to let go of my desire to demonstrate arrogance veiled in expertise or knowledge, maybe I can start to more consistently understand what it looks like to humble myself. Put another way, If Jesus himself can come with all the power and authority on Earth contained in a body that was broken, beaten, and given up as a sacrifice to demonstrate what true power and love look like, I need to start to consider submission in difficult times the calling to which I am held. If I can learn to choose not to be right or to be happy but instead to be humble, I think I can begin to better understand and live out (maybe in just a small way) that death to self that Jesus said was so necessary for following him.

Red Right Ankle Cover

My last first date

It takes some people seven years to overcome one spell of bad luck. On the contrary, in my good fortune, I hope to squeeze more time out of this streak. With a memory as stale as a box of birdseed crackers in the far-back depths of the pantry, I’m often surprised to recall anything more distant than the bumps and scrapes I find scattered on my skin. Nonetheless, matters of great importance brand themselves on my subconscious mind, deciding to pronounce their presence periodically. It is one of these events that brings me to the page today as it dawns on me that I have long since experienced my last first date. Filled with joy, this is a date I can commemorate and celebrate today.

It should be noted that the foresight of the victorious should always be celebrated rather than questioned, as it makes for a far better narrative. With as much arrogance and certainty I’ve ever amassed, I was sure at the end of the night that I’d met someone special. Not only that, I was sure that she felt the same about me. Whether or not she had come the conclusion at the time is irrelevant, there can be no doubting the fact that this night had marked the end of something for us both: this was our last first date.

As I mentioned above, my propensity for misplacing memories must be kept in mind, as it demonstrates the magnitude of this special day. I can recall with extreme detail every thought, feeling, and sensory experience that day held for me. I remember the conversation leading up to the day, the late night planning session leading to our meeting and the discussions laying out logistical concerns. I remember her curfew, and the weight of adhering to the expectations of unknown overwatching eyes being eased by that weightless feeling of being held in a perfect moment. I remember the pressures of a solid first impression, and the charm that can be found within a valiant yet imperfect effort. I remember clear skies, junk food, chain swings, small talk, big laughs, and feeling at home in a new place. As if I knew these were the memories worthwhile of holding on to, I remember what it was like to hope for love. On this day, which marks a seven year journey together, I thank you for making my last first date such a memorable evening.

If Politics were a Boardgame

After having read a few different posts and articles discussion political issues and promises, I got to thinking about what it might be like to be a politician. Part of me even thinks this sort of a job would be something I might be good at: working alongside a group of motivated people, thinking and discussing long term visions, public speaking at various events and fundraisers, among other responsibilities. But whenever I find myself thinking about politics, I am always struck by the realization that (assuming the best of those who run) there is a great disappointment in wanting to deliver on various promises and being unable to for whatever logistical reasons. I think that weight would be a great burden, and that contrary to occasionally popular opinions, the men and women serving in office do have the best of intentions in their service.

All that said, today's cynical thought that has me writing at this particular hour rests on the hypothetical scenario of me holding a position in political office. My focus specifically narrowed, knowing my competitive nature and strong will, on the question "what if I treated politics like a boardgame?" Those who've played with me before might attest to some less than exemplary tactics in the name of the game and victory, so assuming that I came with that same determination, what would I do in such a position?

First, I'd take stock of my opponents. Are they the type to strike first? Do I have necessary counter measures set up for when they do come at me? Can I gain their trust? Can I balance their trust with that of their other opponents? Do I have what I need to both appear unimposing while solidifying an advantageous position? It is here that I would start the process. I think, if I were playing to win, the media would be my number one tool of attack to keep things in my favor. You can guarantee that I'd be well-researched and focus-grouped to ensure maximum impact. You can also guarantee that I'd feel the need to bend the truth to accomplish my goals. If victory is my aim, I would need to use a strong public presence, and perhaps an even stronger presence behind closed doors.

Once my initial moves are decided, I think I'd need to start laying vision. Unfortunately, if my goal is to become elected or to hold a position, my vision would be equal parts areas of actual need and areas of strategic value. One false move, swaying too heavily in either direction, could undo all of the efforts I'd put forth. Philosophically, I'd fully support public services. In reality, my push on these topics would reflect the opinions and wills of the voters. I think my entire platform would hinge on who I'd be looking to woo, how helpful their support would end up being, and my gauge of their eventual disappointment in the event that I don't follow through.

When it comes to talking points, I'd be equal parts car salesman and stand-up comedian. I'd throw out relevant, though complicated, information to both demonstrate a keen understanding of the issues while limited potential blowback. I'd couple that with charm and humour, deflecting any possible criticisms to the best of my ability while also endearing myself to the public. Again, too aggressive an approach on either side would be costly so I would keep both ends in check to the best of my ability.

I think I could go on and on, with potential scenarios and my responses, but this whole process does one thing for me; it helps me to realize that those who run have a particular set of goals that manifest in ways that, while I don't appreciate, I can ultimately understand. Does it make it palatable? Not at all. But, it does help me to remain grounded when people levy personal attacks on these men and women. I wonder what people would say about me if I were in their position. As much as I'd like to say I'd be the same person I am now, I feel like there's always a chance that the game would take over, and my desire to win would have me as vilified as any I've had the urge to criticize. Maybe not. Maybe I'd solve all the crises and balance the budgets and everyone would get ice cream and be happy. The realist in me says I'd be somewhere in the middle, but the experience of running this scenario is enough to give me reason to hesitate when my disappointment moves me from contributing to a discussion or debate to personal attacks or the desire to abandon my part in the democratic process.

How would you really play, if it were your turn to roll the dice?

Growing Up Cover

Say Cheese!

It's never comfortable to feel like you need to be more excited than you are; like when you've held a pose for a picture longer than you expected and you're being instructed to smile and keep smiling for the picture. Looking around the room, everyone is enthusiastically greeting one another and I can't help but feel like a stranger in a familiar place. The thing is, it's not even like I'm unhappy or upset. It's just, for whatever reason, I don't share in their outpouring of joy. This weekend has been filled with cause for celebration: time spent catching up with family, various Easter celebrations at church, my brother's baptism and the sunrise service. Yet throughout, I feel like there's something everyone else is able to tap into that is just missing for me. He is risen, indeed, but the words feel heavy and unnatural on my tongue as if the expectation of their arrival is responsible for their extraction alone. Expectation can be a heavy burden, even if it's only manifesting in an imagined sense.

The thing is, even from this position of discomfort there are conflicting emotions within me. I do feel a deep sense of joy for my brother, I do feel redeemed and alive in the work of Christ, and I feel at home when surrounded by loved ones. There is just some weight of unrest that looms over me when the projections others cast precedes me. I don't know if I'll ever understand why I can simultaneously feel loved and accepted while feeling uncomfortable. If you have any insight, I'm all ears.

This aside, I feel like there's a tension that exists within me between the person I am and the person I know I should be. Maybe this is the best testimony I can provide to the work of the Spirit of God inside me, but I don't know why it all feels so uncomfortable. I've been thinking a lot about sanctification and complacency and reflecting on how I'm caught in this tension, providing all sorts of excuses for why I'm stuck on the complacent side of the equation. Maybe the best thing to do is to get these feelings out so that I'm accountable to more than the thoughts inside my head, but I think perhaps the enemy's foothold is always something I've underestimated. Why is it that it always feels that the enemy's pursuit is stronger and more tangible than that of Christ? Is it because I dwell more on impacts of brokenness than love? Is there something greater going on here, or am I just caught up in deception? I definitely feel sick of making excuses and complaints, paralyzing myself from acting boldly. 

What's going on

What follows is a set of realizations that, while not particularly groundbreaking or original, have nonetheless been increasingly impressed upon me. Wisdom demands experience, but it is in experiencing naivety and discomfort that the whole process becomes humbling. I feel like the past year or so has been one of repeated ideas, spinning wheels and hearing echoes of many conversations all too similar in nature. After having said much without saying much, I suppose I should just get on with it.

Part of me wishes growing up felt familiar, as impossible as that would be. I keep conceptualizing my experience as different or unique, looking for patterns to which I cannot conform and using them as an excuse for not feeling sure of myself. I am a Christian, but I didn't grow up with the typical Christian experience. I am a teacher, but my path to the classroom is nothing like I could have planned or imagined. I am a pastor, but  uncertain of the boundaries of what that word means in the context of my role in the lives of my students. I am in a community, but completely unsure of the structures that lie therein, my role within the group, or the natural lifespan of such a complex entity. I wish it all felt familiar or that there was some way to relate my experience to what I see myself surrounded by. Leah and I just watched an episode of brain games that discussed social conformity and I paradoxically feel a yearning to relate to those around me while at the same time not wanting to fit in to patterns of expected or predicable behavior. What a foolish crisis.

One particularly impactful seminar during my teacher education encouraged us to recognize the feeling of discomfort we will be confronted with in our practice and not to ignore it or to try and fix it but rather to try to become comfortable with it. While it is something that has resonated with me throughout my time spent in an underfunded educational system, it isn't something I've been able to apply to my life in a meaningful way beyond the realm of education. How do I feel comfortable with issues bigger than myself? Is it complacency to accept things I feel I have little power to change, or should I be seeking to bring about positive change? If I do, and I am operating in areas completely new to me, how do I take a first step with wisdom and confidence?

I know the simple Sunday school answer is to trust God. To allow Him to lead my steps. To lean into Him for direction and comfort. Is this answer unpalatable merely because it is simple? Is it my own cynicism that prevents me from accessing this wisdom? I suppose I feel a great need for human direction, for someone speaking into my life from a position of authority or experience. There is only far one can go with these endless rhetorical questions before they become a meaningless chattered echoing and reverberating into nothingness.

To prevent an overwhelming negativity from being cast on this update, I will mention that just the process of thinking through these issues and identifying them helps to ease the burden a little bit. I may not know the answers, but there is comfort to be felt in identifying the questions and to be in pursuit of solutions. I feel there are many questions looming over my head regarding the next few steps in life. Perhaps such a feeling is inevitable and healthy, and that the goal shouldn't be seeking to feel as certain about the next few steps as I should wish to feel certain about the steps I'm already taking. Life can feel so overwhelming when we deal with it in its entirety, but in the minutia of each day's worries I feel it is much easier to cast my worries and concerns on God.

All of this to say very little definitively, life is in process and I'm trying to keep up without either becoming numb to the daily details or being paralyzed by the many decisions looming on the horizon. Thanks for reading and journeying with me, how are you?