Forty-One

I go into every Christmas break with lofty goals of reading several books, writing several blog posts, and working out several times. With little basketball and no teaching, I see an opportunity to catch up on some of the activities I love doing most. This year, like many others, I accomplished almost none of that.

Christmas break is busy. Perhaps a better word is eventful. From December 22-30, my family had some event or gathering in which to participate every day except for one. There was some down time here and there, but we really never stopped traveling, preparing, visiting, cleaning, etc. until today. One anniversary, five family Christmas celebrations, and two dinner parties later, and I'm beat. While many of you are out ringing in the new year this evening, my plan is to nestle snuggly into bed by 10 and consider myself a lucky man.

My accomplishment-driven nature tempts me to chide myself for the "lost opportunity" to read, write, and exercise more in the last week and a half. Starting Thursday this week I have 6 games in 12 days and two weeks left in the school's semester to get all the last minute grading and planning done. Unscheduled time will be at a minimum. If I can't accomplish my goals when I don't even have to work, how can I expect to the rest of the year?

But that's foolish thinking. A calmer, wiser me sat down last night to count my blessings. I sat down and tried to run through everything I'd done over the past 9 days and all the people I got to talk to. I made a list. In those nine days, I counted 41 people with whom I'd had meaningful conversations. Opportunities lost? I beg to differ. Forty-one times over, my life and time were enriched with boisterous laughter, penetrating questions, competitive banter, quick hugs, Nerf-gun wars, and several bottles of wine. 

Part of being a coach is being a numbers guy, and I've decided to put some numbers down for the new year as goals for certain areas of my life that I see as a priority. Having numbers for the year that I'm aiming to hit, with weekly and monthly averages to chase, is the equivalent of challenging my players to get a certain number of rebounds per game, or holding the opponent to a certain shooting percentage for a time. The goals are important; therefore, I've put firm numbers out there to shoot for. However, if people "get in the way" of achieving those numbers, so be it. Forty-one is a pretty good number too. I can celebrate that.

Thanks to all my readers this year, to the 41 for the past week and a half of smiles, and to all those I hope to smile with soon. Celebrate well, and thanks for reading.

Notes on Advent

A few notes on Advent from the book Good News of Great Joy: Daily Readings for Advent by John Piper:

1. Every year I love going home for Christmas. So do many of you. I know what to expect, I know I will be loved, and I know someone is there waiting for me. The meals, the downtime, the not-so-downtime: all of it beckons me with comfort and familiarity. This homecoming feels right, according to Piper, because it is a foretaste of the ultimate Homecoming to our eternal home, with eternal comfort, to be eternally loved by One waiting for us.

A warning, though: "All the other homecomings are foretastes. And foretastes are good. Unless they become substitutes. O, don't let all the sweet things of this season become substitutes of the final great, all-satisfying Sweetness." May all our homecomings be blessed foretastes that remind us of Home, not distract us from it.

2. When Christ was born, there were two kinds of people who didn't worship him, just as there are now. First, there were people like Herod, who didn't worship because they saw Jesus as a great threat. Today, many refuse to worship out of fear of the same thing - the fear of Jesus threatening their autonomy, their sovereignty over their own lives. Seeking to avoid being dethroned, they refuse to worship.

The other kind were the chief priests and scribes who knew exactly what was going on and did nothing anyway. In Matthew 2:4 it is these individuals who are asked by Herod where the Messiah is to be born. They know the answer and tell him. They know the Messiah is being born and they know where it's happening. That's a pretty big deal. Imagine knowing and doing nothing. Unfortunately, it doesn't require much imagination. For we know what happened, we schedule an entire season to celebrate, and often we make Christ an afterthought, a nonentity in Christmas.


3. For many, Christmas is a time of mixed emotions. While there is abundant celebration,the time brings sorrow for those who are missing those they often celebrate with. Rather than attempting to ignore the feelings or brush them away, Piper suggests embracing them, for Jesus came to love us in a way that amplifies life and love: "Many of you will feel your loss this Christmas more pointedly than before. Don't block it out. Let it come. Feel it. What is love for, if not to intensify our affections - both in life and death? But, O, do not be bitter. It is tragically self-destructive to be bitter."

This will be my last post before Christmas. I'm off for about 5 straight days of celebrating starting on Saturday. Merry Christmas, thanks for reading, and I hope you'll check back in after your own celebrations. 

A Gift-Wrapping Lesson From My Daughter

I bumped into an acquaintance at church recently and asked how his week had been.

"Mostly good," he replied. He hesitated, then continued, "It's just been really busy. It will almost be easier when. . ." He paused. "I don't want to wish the Christmas season away, but to a certain extent it will be nice when everything calms down after the 25th."

He said out loud what many of us occasionally think. December is a busy month, full of duties, dates, preparations, and celebrations. There's so much to get done, and so little time to do it. At times it feels like we're trudging through, getting stuff done; and in the meantime, we don't have the energy to be excited about it and really enjoy it.

That's why I'm glad I came across the Christmas presents my 5-year old has been wrapping.

If you look at the picture, you can see what she does on most nights when she gets home. After asking my wife for some wrapping paper scraps, she rushes to her room for a while and reemerges with a newly wrapped masterpiece, labeled by a makeshift name tag, to enthusiastically put under the tree. Apparently they are pre-school projects that she's wrapping up for us. There are now more than ten packages that look exactly like this under our tree at this moment.

It's her spirit and enthusiasm in wrapping these gifts that reminds me of the right approach to all that's going on right now. Yes, I'm excited to see loved ones and celebrate Christmas at many family events. The getting ready, though, is not necessarily done in a spirit of "Christmas cheer." Elise can't wait to open presents at our house, but she's also really enthusiastic about getting ready. She wants everything to be just right, and she's willing to use whatever is available, whether it be perfect or not, in her enthusiasm. The pictured gift has 3 different patterns of wrapping paper and a mountain of scotch tape. But it was wrapped by her, thinking of us, and she put a big fat bow on top to make it even cooler.

In all of the last-minute hurrying going on at your house and mine, perhaps we can apply this lesson - not to quit hurrying, but to hurry with enthusiasm and love, anxiously anticipating and rushing towards all that's good.

Undistracting Excellence

I hear a lot of Christians worry about the best way to represent Christ to the world, especially a world weary of being beaten down by holier than thou evangelism (whether that be perception or reality). Just last week my Sunday School class was discussing the topic of the obstacles to sharing Christ or even of bringing Christ up in conversation. To inject the story of salvation or even to reference Jesus' name can make the best of conversations look like an agenda-filled setup or even a trap.

After reading an interview given by John Piper, I've added to my perspective on the topic. In the interview he uses the phrase "undistracting excellence" to describe the job of ministry leaders. I see an application in this for all Christians.

The idea comes in reference to how we should approach what we do in life. Piper speaks of more reliance on God and an understanding that the work of ministry is primarily supernatural in nature, not some professional club that is relying on the perfection of ministers to accomplish God's will. That fact does not, however, absolve those ministry leaders from doing their job as well as they can. His challenge: portray undistracting excellence. Says Piper, "The aim is for a kind of excellence that does not distract from God or the spiritual engagement with God in all our natural acts. Both fumbling and finesse distract. . ."

While I appreciate this approach in ministry leaders, I think this may be an important way to go about our daily lives as well and perhaps a more effective way to portray Christ to the world. If we display "undistracting excellence" in our jobs, relationships, and daily interactions, we "do life" in such a way that we are not a distraction from God. To me, it means performing in these areas with a quiet dedication, attempting to not create a distraction from the goodness that is God by representing him poorly. Our mistakes, failures, and weaknesses are amplified a thousand fold in a culture looking for reasons to reject a Sovereign God. At times unspoken diligence, consistent excellence, and obvious faith are the best ways to "speak" about Christ and allow focus on the supernatural beauty that He contains.

Today's Travels

In The Screwtape Letters, Screwtape advises his nephew, demon Wormwood, to keep the following in mind about the moral backsliding of his human prey: “He must be made to imagine that all the choices which have effected this change of course are trivial and revocable. He must not be allowed to suspect that he is now, however slowly, heading right away from the sun on a line which will carry him into the cold and dark of utmost space.”

I’ve told my students that with every choice they make with their time finds them either borrowing or investing. They borrow from their future every time they spend time in something with little real reward, with something that is a mere distraction from what they must do or what they want to do. I don’t think they really want to hang out on social media for hours on end. I don’t think they really want to get sucked into video games for hours, night after night after night. Those mind-numbing, low cost-low reward, time-killing activities borrow from their futures.

They invest every time their actions improve their future. Reading, for instance. Taking difficult steps towards whatever goals they might have, regardless of who may be watching, who may be impressed, or what their level of comfort happens to be at that particular time. Building relationships and memories.

This quote speaks to that, as well as to every choice we make. We are headed in one direction or the other - closer towards God, or closer towards attempting to fulfill what only God can fulfill with something else. I read a great article the other day addressing the great moral slides of leaders, both in the church and outside of it. Those falls from grace were not immediate, one time “mistakes”; they were, instead, a series of tiny decisions that led to a long-term slide. As a result, these leaders found themselves one day in the midst of scandal, unable to recognize who they had become or who they once were.

This is true in our behaviors and our thinking, in our relationships and in our personal goals. Today we will either invest in our priorities or borrow against them in the future. How we spend our time will draw us nearer to joy and fulfillment, or nearer to accepting much less. None of us will wake up one day, all of a sudden, exactly where we want to be or a million miles away from it. Instead, one day at a time, we’ll slowly travel in one direction or the other.

The old hymn begs, “Nearer my God, to thee.” I can either wish for it, or take responsibility for where my daily actions take me.

Who is This?

Floundering to find time to write as the basketball season begins, I've come to realize that I've got several posts ready-made from some of my responses to the online C.S. Lewis course I'm leading. If you're in the course - sorry for the repeat material. I just need to get something out there. Here goes. . .

A passage from C.S. Lewis' Mere Christianity:

Look for yourself, and you will find in the long run only hatred, loneliness, despair, rage, ruin, and decay. But look for Christ and you will find Him, and with Him everything else thrown in.

I like to believe that each year I get closer and closer to truth regarding God and faith. In my mid 20's I probably believed that I had it all figured out and that my growth was done, that the only thing left for me was to share all that I knew with those who hadn't attained the same level of enlightenment. A little more mature now (though perhaps, a very little), I just hope to get to more truth; and I understand much of my journey on this earth is that journey for truth about God and faith. That journey will never end.

Having said that, this quote is a pretty good picture of what I've come to understand in the past year or two. Christ is not the means to an end; He is the end to which we all strive. It sounds catchy and trite and simplistic, but I don't think many people get this. Most days I don't. Ultimately what this is saying is that Christ doesn't exist to make our lives better, we exist to find Him. He is the goal. If we're using faith to live a more successful life or have more successful relationships or to be a better person, we've got it all wrong. God doesn't exist to make us better: He exists so that we might know Him, desire Him, and delight in Him. He is what we aspire to.

I think the purpose of all Bible reading can be answered in a brief phrase found in Mark 4:41 (and in many other places). After the wind and waves obey Christ's admonitions, the disciples turn to each other and ask, "Who is this?" And this is what we must ask with each passage of Scripture and with books like this one: who is this? We shouldn't read the Bible focusing on finding ways to fix our lives; we should focus on finding ways to fix our attention on who God is. We shouldn't look to Jesus to find help with our problems; we should look to Jesus to find Jesus, the All in All.

When we find Him, we get all the rest thrown in. At least the stuff that really matters. We will become better, we will have better relationships, and we will have more success in our ventures. Get God, and you get the rest. Go after God as a way of getting the rest, and the God that you'll have will be a watered-down, Santa Claus deity, seeking to keep a whiny child happy. And there is no joy there.

Faker, Faker, Faker

Phony. 

Poser. 

Scam artist. 

Fraud. 

Imposter. 

Deceiver.

Listen to those labels. None are good. In our culture we demand that others are genuine (aside from our presidential candidates, apparently). Few are - lying has become an art form of sorts; however, get caught being less than yourself, and you risk being branded like this, with little way to repair the reputation.

I used to be in this boat, demanding accuracy in all my statements as well as those of others, refusing to pretend. I wanted to "get real" and "just be myself." I think I was wrong.

In Mere Christianity C.S. Lewis encourages Christians to fake it sometimes. The goal, however, isn't to fool others; it's to fool yourself into becoming exactly what you're pretending to be. Writes Lewis, "Very often the only way to get a quality in reality is to start behaving as if you had it already." Getting more specific: "Do not waste time bothering whether you 'love' your neighbor; act as if you did. As soon as we do this, we find one of the great secrets. When you are behaving as if you loved someone, you will presently come to love him."

What I'm beginning to realize is that it isn't just sometimes that we ought to "fake it"; most of us would be better off if we faked it all the time. We are far less than we should be. If I behave as genuinely impatient and self-centered as I actually am, I couldn't function with others. My nature, my natural, fallen condition means that in my heart, daily, I'm out to get mine. I want to know what's in it for me. 

I can begin every day revealing how tired, grumpy, and irritated I really am, or I can decide to at least appear as if I'm loving and excited to be doing what I'm doing. When I remember to pretend, usually I become loving and excited. 

Some days you've just got to fake it, especially those days you don't feel like being good. So go be an imposter. Pretend to be disciplined. Pretend to be patient with your spouse and kids. Pretend to be dedicated to your job, whether you like it or not. Pretend that today, whether it's a Tuesday morning or Sunday afternoon, is going to be a good day. You might just end the day genuine after all.

But I Don't Feel Like It

As evidenced by my last post, I don't feel like going to work on Tuesday mornings. I don't even feel like getting out of bed. I don't feel tolerant, happy, friendly, or at peace. The only thing I feel like, frankly, is bitchy.

That's understandable, as Tuesday mornings are, by definition, the bane of my professional existence. However, there are plenty of really good things in my life that I often don't feel like. I love to write but often don't feel like writing. I love God but don't feel like praying or reading the Bible at times. I love my children but don't feel like reading to them, I love cleanliness but don't feel like cleaning, and I love basketball but don't feel like watching game tape. Mark Twain wrote once that classic books are "something everybody wants to have read but hasn't." That sounds like most of the virtues I seek in my life.

What we want and what we feel like is often at odds. It is rare for us to feel like doing something when it is that something that we most desperately need. I always feel like becoming a more disciplined eater after a huge meal, a couple of candy bars, and a tightening belt. When 10 pm comes around, I'm winding down for the evening, and the bag of Doritos is calling, what I feel like is significantly different. What I feel like I often can't have, and what I most need I rarely desire at the essential time.

C.S Lewis calls this "undulation," or a series of troughs and peaks. He uses this term regarding faith, which is of much greater consequence than Tuesday mornings, dieting, and exercise. And he's right. To rely on "feeling" to feed faith, one has a vision of God that metaphorically operates on a dimmer switch run by a two year old. And this is why when we feel least like praying, it is all the more essential. I used to reason with myself that I shouldn't make God into a chore - if I didn't feel like Bible reading or prayer, then I shouldn't fake my way through it. If God loves a cheerful giver, then surely he only has times for a cheerful pray-er as well. But it's amazing how little I pray when I leave it up to feeling.

God is infectious - the more of Him we have, the more we desire. But more so than infectious, God is unchanging. My mood is not.

Whether it's God, exercise, loving your spouse, or being friendly during the most unfriendly of professional obligations, don't wait until you feel like it. Do what you ought, and then see how you feel.

New Game Plan for Tomorrow

The part of my job for which I have profound distaste happens every Tuesday morning. Like all other employed individuals in the world, there are parts of my job that I enjoy and others that I don't. I'm paid well to do all of my job, even those activities that don't incite passion within me. However, I find myself dreading Tuesdays. I wake up irritable, enter the building sarcastic, begin my job dejected, and then I endure.

My Bible reading tonight was from Colossians. In it, Paul's letter challenged me to be better than "enduring" tomorrow:

"Therefore, as the elect of God, holy and beloved, put on tender mercies, kindness, humility, meekness, longsuffering. . . But above all these things put on love, which is the bond of perfection. And let the peace of God rule in your hearts, to which also you were called in one body; and be thankful." (3:12-15)

I was angry when I read that on this, a Monday night. I want so badly to go into work tomorrow and get through with anger and pride and loathing. I want to complain and mock and exasperatedly question. I really don't feel kindness and humility coming on. Longsuffering doesn't sound all that appealing. Thankful will be a tough stretch as well.

But if I am indeed elected by God, if I am seeking holiness, and if I am beloved of God, that is the calling, whether I feel like it right now or not. I will hold on to my own distaste, or I will allow myself to be ruled by the peace of God. Am I really saying that God can move mountains, but He can't move my attitude? Or am I saying that I'd rather be angry than thankful?

Tomorrow will be a challenge. But tonight God has called an audible, a change to the game plan. And good players stick to the game plan.

One In, One Out

A while back my wife and I were at a friend's house, and she offered to my wife a large serving dish that she no longer had need for. My immediate thought went straight to our current kitchen. Though not tiny, it's not exactly the Taj Majal of kitchens either; and we have, by my estimation, many dishes. While I certainly embrace my wife's creative cooking proclivities and penchant for presentation when hosting others at home, I selfishly imagined one more dish falling out of a cupboard I opened while dutifully putting dishes away (or, more likely, searching for M&M's). What I requested of her, then, upon the offer of the dish, was a one in-one out approach. One new large dish in, one unused dish out. We agreed.

For anything that's full, the one in - one out approach isn't mere philosophy, it's fact. I discovered that this week in my teaching. After going to a conference recently and picking up several great strategies for teaching better, I wanted to try many of those ideas in my class this week. What I found, however, was that to do those cool approaches, I had to cut out something that I currently do. And all the preparation time the new activities took came at the cost of time I would have spent in timely evaluation of the current stack of essays that are haunting me. As much as I'd like to be the best of the best at everything, whatever I add comes at a cost.

The same is true of schools as a whole. I read in the Des Moines Register this morning about the number of Iowa kids that go to school hungry every day. To combat this, the most-implemented strategies involve the public schools. Schools are being called on to feed kids breakfast, to send food home with kids for supper, and to teach them during the day about nutrition, wise grocery purchases, and healthy living in general. All those are really important; however, if you put something in, you've got to take something else out. Something else will suffer. You either want schools to combat starvation or literacy. You can't have it all, despite what the press and the government attempt to get you to believe. 

As I sat in church this morning, examining my week and my fumbling efforts to live life well, I realized that personal improvement is a one in - one out reality as well. If I want to add something to my life - more Bible reading, more prayer, more peace, more writing, more time with my wife/kids - something's got to go. If I want to focus on being more disciplined, I've got to focus less on other aspects of personal growth. I can't do it all, all the time. The key is to take in only the really essential proverbial serving dishes while putting out the ones that are merely cluttering my cupboards and preventing me from serving an excellent meal. And if the cupboards are full, and they're full of essentials that I need to create that perfect supper, then I've got to learn to make do with what I have, polishing and shining and presenting with those dishes to the best of my ability every day.

What I'm Thinking When I See You

Tomorrow I will walk into school after an absence of 4 days. A friend of mine will probably be one of the first in my classroom after I arrive, seeking a cup of coffee and good conversation. He will ask about my weekend, I'll respond, we'll talk, we'll laugh, and we'll wish each other well for the day. He will be a welcome guest.

Soon after, I will likely face an unwelcome guest. An administrator perhaps, or a student. Some well-meaning individual will walk in with a problem of some sort, seeking my input or looking for me to do something about whatever it is they are coming in for. They will walk in and disrupt my rhythm, my rush to prepare for 1st hour. They will expect to interrupt me, and they will succeed. I will resent them, most likely.

Later in the day I'll see another friend who will make me laugh. We'll share an inside joke, exchange weekend details, and move on in our day. A student who I don't teach will invariably walk past my room, looking for nothing more than a greeting and a quick smile. They will say something humorous, and I'll respond in kind. They will validate my existence as an instructor, my value to students and humankind in general. I will like seeing them.

I will check my email accounts several times throughout the day. Parents will want answers. Co-workers and bosses will demand my presence at meetings or my reaction or two cents. Friends and family may chime in - a picture of my new niece, perhaps; a request for my presence at an event; a humorous story retold; an interesting article shared; a favor requested.

My day tomorrow will move along with various people exactly like those mentioned above moving in and out of my bubble of consciousness. And if I'm not careful, if I merely behave as I usually do, I'll view each of these people in through the exact lens through which they are described above: How will you affect my day? Are you going to make my day better or worse? Easier or more difficult? More fun or more work? In what way might you benefit or cause harm to me?

Every day I will run across hundreds of people. I will make hundreds of decisions about how to interact with them. And for all of them, I will have some sort of effect on their day. I will improve or harm their time, make them better or worse, help or hinder. Some will choose to come in contact with me, others I will seek out, still others will stumble across me by mere chance. But tomorrow there will be hundreds. And for the next day. And the next. And the next.

If I view all encounters through the lens of their possible effect on myself, the percentage of people I send away better will be much smaller. And every encounter will produce a ripple effect. The point I'm trying to make here is that before I ever do anything or behave in any manner with someone else, I come to that interaction with a mindset. That mindset, more than the actions themselves, will mean something to likely thousands of people this week. Whether I want to or not, I will affect them. And so will you.

How will you view your thousands this week?

Is God Still Awesome?

There are several words and phrases that I don't allow my 10th grade students to use in their essays because the words themselves have become so overused as to not mean anything specific any more; they are mere cliches. Cool, for instance. Or hang out. I've recently had to add the word awesome to the list as well, and that addition is painful to me.

The word used to mean something significant. It meant something awe-inspiring or an object or event that could fill one with awe or wonder. To be awesome, the object being described needed to essentially be so complex, so fascinating, so fearfully-made that it was beyond description. It had to make the viewer pause and just stare, mystified, trying to take it all in while knowing it could never be fully taken in.

Now it means neat, or something I enjoyed, or (to get to the heart of it) cool. It is used to describe video games or a football tackle or a song or the fact that we got out of work early. Meals, movies, commercials, and jokes are all totally, repeatedly, all-together awesome. And if everything can be awesome, then awesome can't mean what it meant once upon a time.

This bothers me most because churches have been heavy contributors to its overuse and abuse. It gets said about youth trips or worship songs or major events. We say that people did an awesome job, or the turnout was awesome, or we had awesome weather for what the church was doing, or we're going to have just an awesome, awesome time. And then, in the next breath, we say or sing about how awesome God is.

So which awesome do we mean? Fascinatingly, marvelously, all-encompassingly complex and wonderful and fearful? Or neat and convenient? I fear the latter. For it is the latter aspect of Christianity that gets much more play. But God is much, much more than a cool guy we can hang out with on a Sunday morning, have an awesome time with, and then move on.

To simplify God and describe Him using cliche is to risk completely missing who God is. C.S. Lewis wrote in Mere Christianity that, "God is the only comfort, He is also the supreme terror; the thing we most need and the thing we most want to hide from. He is our only possible ally, and we have made ourselves His enemies. Some people talk as if meeting the gaze of absolute goodness would be fun. They need to think again. They are still only playing with religion."

Is awesome a word we would use to describe "the supreme terror, the thing we most want to hide from"? If the answer is no, then perhaps we need a better understanding of who God is, or a different word with which to honor Him.

(***Obviously the fact that I'm currently leading a class on Lewis is contributing to a great deal of my thinking. Expect to see many Lewis quotes on the blog in the next month or so. That should be good news to my readers: he's way smarter than me.)

Living Real Life at 3 AM

I'm in the middle of a frustrating stage of parenting. Leah, my two year old, is, well, two. I love her and melt when she giggles and can't wait to see her at the end of every day, but she is two. She is stubborn, crafty, deceptive, and a veritable roller coaster of emotions. She loves to wander the house nightly between 2 and 4 AM for no reason in particular. I keep hearing from others that this is a stage, and I keep telling myself the same thing. Yet I find myself frustrated on a daily basis while in this stage, and routinely find myself counting down the days until we're done with it so we can get back to real life with more peace, less drama, and more sleep. 

I realized this week how wrong-headed this approach is when I read this from C.S. Lewis: 

The great thing, if one can, is to stop regarding all the unpleasant things as interruptions of one's "own," or "real" life. The truth is of course that what one calls the interruptions are precisely one's real life - the life God is sending one day by day: what  one calls on'e "real life" is a phantom of one's own imagination.

I've allowed myself to get frustrated because I saw many of the natural tendencies of an average two-year-old as some sort of obstacle to living my life. In reality, this is my real life. This is what I am called to take care of right now. Real life is taking her to her room 3 times a night, dealing with potty training, and watching tantrums on days she doesn't sleep. If I am at my worst during these types of trials, then I am at my worst during the essential times of my real life. 

We like to pretend that being tired and frustrated give us a reason to act in a certain way or give us a "Get out of Sin Free" card. I did that because I was frustrated, or I didn't mean it, I'm just tired. But it is exactly in the interruptions, in the frustrations, in the fatigue that we really show who we are. Another Lewis quote from Mere Christianity:

When I come to my evening prayers and try to reckon up the sins of the day, nine times out of ten the most obvious one is some sin against charity; I have sulked or snapped or sneered or snubbed or stormed. And the excuse that immediately springs to my mind is that the provocation was so sudden and unexpected; I was caught off my guard. . . Surely what a man does when he is taken off his guard is the best evidence for what sort of man he is?

The interruptions, the obstacles, the irritants that we all face - they are not going anywhere. There are here today, will be here tomorrow, and will always exist. Whatever stage of life we face today may pass, but another one with new challenges awaits. To wait for them to go away, looking forward to what one calls "my life" (which simply means time uninterrupted), is a formula for constant frustration. And it's a self-inflicted mood.

My life will be no easier when I am out of this parenting stage. Nor will I be a better person or father. How I respond now is how I respond to life and reveals who I am. I can not wait for it to get easier for me to be better.

Worshiping Weakness

As evidenced by this blog, I'm someone who tries to look carefully and purposefully at how I'm living in order to find a way to live better. It's the coach in me, wanting to look at more film and break down more stats in order to create the best practice or workout plan to win now, tomorrow, and in the future. I believe in it for my players, and I believe in it for me. God commands, "Consider your ways!" in Haggai, and it is a command that I take to heart.

I don't think that I'm special or in any way alone because of this. The market is flooded by books, videos, lectures, etc. offering advice and information to make us better and attack the weaknesses that keep us from our potential. That is all well and good. I think we must be careful in this pursuit of the perfect "me," however.

While the motivation of living a better life is important, the potential actions that it creates are dangerous. There is no other way to see it than to understand that the more I focus on myself, the less I focus on God. And all of a sudden, the perfect me becomes my god.

I've spent a great deal of the last decade and a half constantly asking what God's will for my life is. The more I think about it, though, the more I realize that God's will for me isn't to be in a certain job in a certain city with certain people doing certain ministries. More than anything, His will is for me to focus on Him. To want to focus on the possibilities in my life more than to focus on the grandeur of God is mere idol worship.

I haven't accomplished nearly as much as I'd like. I watch too much late night TV. I don't pray enough or read enough. I weigh 5 pounds more than I'd like, but I still consume Nutty Bars; and every day I wake up and say I'll have less coffee and then fail. I get crabby when I'm tired, and sometimes when I'm not. I run my mouth when I shouldn't, stay quiet when I shouldn't, and worry about my image.

And God is God.

It shouldn't be a tough decision to figure out where to place my focus.

I cannot, and should not ignore my own weaknesses. I can't be okay to stay as I am. But I will be much more effective at living better if I'm looking at the Holy One. Staring at the Source of all true joy will bring much more of it than will putting a microscope on my flaws.

"Other" Relationships

The minor prophets seem mostly concerned with the inability of God's people to spend any concerted attention towards God, instead making a god of themselves and dealing with the pain and shame of that choice. However, another reason a focus on self is so dangerous is because it ignores or sacrifices others around us.

God instead demands that we see what we can do for others. Read the following calls to action from Zechariah:
"Execute true justice,
Show mercy and compassion
Everyone to his brother.
Do not oppress the widow or the fatherless,
The alien or the poor.
Let none of you plan evil in his heart against his brother." (7:9-10)

"'Speak each man the truth to his neighbor;
Give judgment in your gates for truth, justice, and peace;
Let none of you think evil in your heart against your neighbor;
And do not love a false oath.
For all these are things that I hate,'
Says the Lord.'" (8:16-17)

Every line here speaks of a way to behave around others. Carefully, line by line, the prophet indicates that a true focus on God will lead to a desire to do good to others. Our natural inclination is not this way. But the command is there.

The other statement about other people made in the minor prophets, however, is much different. While we are called to do what we can and focus on others, we must not rely on them. They are not perfect, they will let us down, and they cannot save our souls. They improve our life; they do not fulfill it. Writes Micah:

"Do not trust in a friend;
Do not put your confidence in a companion;
Guard the doors of your mouth
From her who lies in your bosom.
For son dishonors father,
Daughter rises against her mother,
Daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law;
A man's enemies are the men of his own household.
Therefore I will look to the Lord;
I will wait for the God of my salvation;
My God will hear me." (7:5-7)

This is not a fun passage to read, but it rings true. Once I finally finished grad school, I spent much of my victory lap on spending time with people because I know how much better my life is with good people in it. However, every good person in my life that I can think of has at one time or another let me down in some way. Somewhere along the line I either expected them to be perfect, expected them to fulfill my every desire, or expected them to love me flawlessly and unconditionally. In short, I expected them to be God. And they're not. None of them. I love them and am thrilled to be readjusting my time and my priorities to break more bread with people. But they will not save me.

Be careful what you ask of others. Build relationships, do what you can for them, and live life well with them. Fulfill God's commands. But there is only one place to look for salvation, truth, and fulfillment. If you don't look there, your "other" relationships will suffer as well.

Out of Respect

Throughout my youth, one of the people I respected the most was my grandfather. Because of that, I acted differently around him than I would have otherwise; I wanted to be better around him. I talked less and listened more, becoming less self-centered, less self-righteous, less likely to screw around or act foolishly. Don't get me wrong, we had a ton of fun together. I just deferred to him and his wishes, especially in his house. Out of respect, I put my best foot forward.

The same is true for many other people I've held in a high regard throughout my lifetime, as I'm sure is the case for many of you. This isn't a shocking revelation; in fact, it's downright commonplace. It's what people do. To show respect and gain some back from others, we dress well, speak well, and act well. We behave better than we actually are, often because we believe we are better when we're in their presence. That's why they have our respect.

Is the same true about God?

I ask this question as the "Come as you are" culture seems to be sweeping churches of all denominations. In my own church, I hear the phrase, "God loves you just the way you are" seemingly several times each Sunday. And it's true, God does love me and you and our neighbor just the way we are, and it's true that we can worship God whenever, dressed however, in whatever manner we deem appropriate. Those are all true. But should we want to continue to be "just as you are" for very long?

God addressed this issue in Malachi:

"A son honors his father,

And a servant his master.

If then I am the Father,

Where is My honor?

And if I am a Master,

Where is My reverence?" (1:6)

Where indeed? If we act better around our parents and grandparents and bosses and future employers and in-laws because we respect them and because they deserve it, shouldn't we want to do the same for God? Shouldn't I want to be better with God than what I was yesterday?

Yes, come as you are. Come hip and trendy and comfortable. But don't stay that way. If not for yourself, then out of respect.

CS Lewis Study

Friends, family, and former students: Starting next week, I am leading an online discussion group studying C.S. Lewis books that will last until Christmas. The three books we’ll be studying are Mere Christianity, The Screwtape Letters, and The Great Divorce. If you want to join the group, I’d love to have you. Email me at shannondykstra@gmail.com to get started. We’ll read a little each week and dig in to the texts, discussing through Google Groups. While the discussion prompts will have a Christian bent (as this is originating as on online Sunday School class), atheists and Christians are both welcome and encouraged to throw in their two cents. If you’re looking for challenging discussion over classic literature, I’d love to have you join the group.

Scared of Success

The minor prophets don't merely point out errors; they also point to what success should look like. In those books are several goals, the completion of which offers joy, purpose, and a God-centered life. For instance:

1. Habakkuk challenges us to rejoice in all circumstances:

"Though the fig tree may not blossom,

Nor fruit be on the vines;

Though the labor of the olive may fail, 

And the fields yield no food. . .

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord,

I will joy in the God of my salvation." (3:17-18)

2. Zecharia demands that we become the one others come to:

"In those days ten men from every language of the nations shall grasp the sleeve of a Jewish man, saying, "Let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you." (8:23)

3. Later in Zecharia, we are told that because there are things worth fighting for, we should strive to be great warriors:

"They shall be like mighty men,

Who tread down their enemies

In the mire of the streets in the battle.

They shall fight because the Lord is with them." (10:5)

4. Malachi tells us to come to God, so that we might be purified:

"For He is like a refiner's fire

And like launderer's soap.

He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver;

He will purify the sons of Levi,

And purge them as gold and silver,

That they may offer to the Lord

An offering in righteousness." (3:2-3)

These are all great goals to have. My problem, and it seems the problem of many other Christians, is that thought these seem like good ideas, we're scared to death of them being true. We're simply not sure they are worth the cost. Rejoice in all things? Then I lose my right to complain, one of my favorite things to do, especially with others. It's an admonition that the world doesn't exist for my personal comfort, and that's not a reality that's easy to face. Become the one others seek? But I'm a busy guy. If others come to me, I lose my time, my freedom, my privacy. Do I really want to be sought out? And what about being a mighty warrior? Then it's my job to fight, and battles are hard. Warriors are called to action, not words or thoughts; warriors are in harm's way. And purification? I kind of like some of my imperfections. I want to be good. But pure? Refined? Sounds like a lot of work, really.

And on and on it goes in my head. I read these verses and get fired up to be all I can be, to go chase the success that is so clearly laid out for me. But I'm scared to death what that success may cost me. And ultimately, that reveals a lack of faith. Either I believe God, that this is what I was made for, that these goals will produce in my life joy and a closeness to God that will trump all other desires, or I like where I'm at and make myself into a god.

Sometimes you've got to pretend you believe something, through all the doubt, until you're actually convinced. I believe in God more than I believe in my own fear. It's time to act like it.

The Biggest Bus of All

My last several posts have been themed as "buses" - mistakes that I make over and over again - that were common in the books of the Old Testament prophets. Tonight I type about the biggest bus of all.

All the warnings of all the minor prophets can be summarized in two verses from Obadiah that spell out the root of all problems and the result:

• "The pride of your heart has deceived you." (1:3)
• "Shame shall cover you." (1:10)

It doesn't get a whole lot more complicated than that, yet I jump in front of this one all the time. I don't think I'm alone. While millions mimic the cry of "Pride cometh before the fall," it doesn't stop them and me from that descent. And it's tough to see in people, to really point out all the pride in all the people we come across each day, only because it is so common that it is no longer ugly. Most would agree a braggart is ugly, showing off skills whether he/she has them or not, self-promoting all the way, shamelessly stepping into a self-sponsored spotlight at all times. We point to that and call it pride, knowing we would never be so asinine, so clueless, so conceited.

But the common kind of pride, the one infecting me, is quieter, even revered. C.S. Lewis puts it this way in Mere Christianity: "The moment you have a self at all, there is a possibility of putting yourself first - wanting to be the center - wanting to be God, in fact." All that means is my prideful behavior is when I try to take control of my own life, when I call it my own, when I believe I can control it and behave in a manner that shows I believe everything in it should go my way. It's chasing dreams for me, not God. It's making money for me, not God. It's loving my wife to get something in return, loving my kids so others think I'm a good parent, doing my job well to gain a good reputation. It's doing all kinds of good things with the center of focus on me.

I like what Lewis said later in Mere Christianity as well: "In God you come up against something which is in every respect immeasurably superior to yourself. Unless you know God as that - and, therefore, know yourself as nothing in comparison - you do not know God at all. As long as you are proud you cannot know God."

The books of the prophets repeat this message over and over again, because God's people made (and make) that mistake over and over again. And in many assorted ways, shame covers them. The book of Zephaniah does show, however, what happens when that pride is eradicated His people seek him:

"Do not fear;

Zion, let not your hands be weak.

The Lord your God in your midst, 

The Mighty One, will save;

He will rejoice over you with gladness,

He will quiet you with His love,

He will rejoice over you with singing." (3:16-17)

The choice seems like an easy one.

Bus #3: The American Way

One thing I've always taken pride in is in attempting to have the strength to handle whatever comes my way. It's a common American theme, that of self-reliance, of picking oneself up after getting knocked down, of accomplishing anything if you just work hard enough, of not needing anyone. My youngest daughter says it best when in anger she takes whatever I have in my hands that I'm trying to help her with and shouts at me, "I do it myself!" She, I, and the collective American spirit all maintain that we can handle whatever comes our way.

It's all lies. Big ones. It's a goal set that sets us all up for failure. It also did those Israelites in from time to time in the books of the minor prophets, and this "bus" of self-sufficiency is one of the many in front of which I commonly throw myself.

One fact is inescapable, no matter how much I try to ignore it: I am not God. That pretty much rules out all delusions of sovereignty, thrusting me into a world of whirlwinds that I attempt to control all on my own. If life were a school project, and I was given the option of working alone or working with a partner, I would constantly choose to work alone. I'm that stubborn D student who knows just enough to not totally fail and whose pride won't allow me to accept the partnership offered by the smartest kid in the class. "I do it myself!" I yell into the whirlwinds.

The book of Amos lays out how well that works for those attempting whatever it is they are attempting, alone:

"Therefore flight shall perish from the swift,

The strong shall not strengthen his power,

Nor shall the mighty deliver himself;

He shall not stand who handles the bow,

The swift of foot shall not escape,

Nor shall he who rides a horse deliver himself.

The most courageous men of might

Shall flee naked in that day." (2:14-16)

The most discouraging aspect of that passage is that we're talking about the best of the best in terms of natural talent. This isn't about the weak, the poor, the helpless; this is about the swift, the strong, the mighty, the courageous. I am none of these things. Middle of the pack, maybe, but certainly not ready for the Top Gun school of tough guys. If the most talented are screwed on their own, I can only imagine how little I am able to fight alone, without the Sovereign one.

The book of Zecharia weighs in as well. If I want to accomplish anything of substance, anything lasting, anything worthy of my calling; and if I want to survive drought, famine, devastating loss, and potty-training my kids, then it must be "'Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit,' says the Lord of hosts." (4:6)

This bus has run over me so many times, I almost feel more comfortable in front of it. It's an act of quiet desperation, but it's a familiar one, and it's seen as honorable in our culture. Familiar or not, honorable or not, it's never taken me to success before. That, I've come to realize, only comes when I partner up with the Honor Student and let Him do most of the work.

Bus #2: The Immediate

The book of Haggai presents another common "bus" that I get hit by time and time again. Haggai prophesied in a time when the Jews were finally allowed to return to their homeland after 70 years of captivity. One of the first duties upon returning was rebuilding the temple. This started well, but the Israelites became quickly distracted by their own homes, businesses, etc.

God calls them out: "Is it time for you yourselves to dwell in your paneled houses, and this temple to lie in ruins?" (1:4)

The result of this mistake sounds very familiar:

"You have sown much, and bring in little,

You eat, but do not have enough;

You drink, but you are not filled with drink;

You clothe yourselves, but no one is warm;

And he who earns wages, 

Earns wages to put into a bag with holes." (1:6)

In other words, they became indifferent to God while focusing on their own agenda. John C. Maxwell, in his commentary on this chapter, puts it another way: "If you forget the ultimate, you will become a slave to the immediate." Obviously, based on verse six, the immediate does not pay all that well. And I feel like I've been there before, putting wages into a bag with holes, running around doing anything and everything to get ahead, accomplish great things, yet falling down exhausted at the end of the day, and never really getting anywhere. 

Basketball season is a common time for this. It's easy, what with the constant demands of the immediate (today's stats, practice schedule, game, scouting report, etc), to completely forget the ultimate. And when I get caught up in the immediate, all I want to do is win. I forget that I'm not there to build my own house, so to speak, but instead there to build up young people for the world and be a model of Christ-like behavior in all circumstances for them. Sometimes I do get to win and get all the rewards of winning. But after ten years, I know that the rewards of winning pale in comparison to the rewards of coaching with God's agenda in mind.

I have built great relationships with some of my players over the last decade, kids who I run into here and there (or on Facebook) and make me feel like I did something for them. I know I had the ultimate firmly in mind during those years. There are some seasons, however, where there are few of those relationships still left. It's clear where my mind, my heart, and my priorities were doing those seasons. And it's no wonder I felt like I was spinning my wheels, doing everything I could, with no results. I ate and drank but was not full, clothed but not warm, paid but not enough.

In Haggai comes one of God's most important commands for all people in all times: "Consider your ways!" (1:7). In your "busy season," whose house are you building?

Bus #1: Good Times

My recent posts have been about the minor prophets of the Old Testament, my most recent one comparing the mistakes I routinely make to stepping out in front of buses, all of which I should be able to avoid if only I'd read about those foolish Old Testament people screwing up time and time again. I'd like to detail what some of those buses look like.

One major stumbling block for those Israelites as well as for me is good times. God puts it like this in Hosea:

"I knew you in the wilderness,
In the land of great drought.
When they had pasture, they were filled;
They were filled and their heart was exalted;
Therefore, they forgot Me." (Hosea 13:5-6)

In the wilderness, I'm awful good at cozying up to God: God, heal me. Send rain. Keep my car running for another month. Help me find a job. And survive this one. Save me, God. I'm desperate.

Too often, though, getting out of trouble is my quickest ticket back into real trouble. Once I'm safe and secure (or at least feel that way), it's easy to do as Hosea's wife did and go out and be a prostitute again with my attention and devotion. God who? Oh, yeah, thanks God. Good job. I'll call you next week.

To be filled and have a heart exalted is a dangerous place to be. It would be sinful to see it as bad. Blessings are good. We should celebrate what we've been given. But I know I have to work hard to recognize that the pitfall exists if I'm lazy or not looking both ways. When times are good, when money is plentiful, when security abounds and the cupboards are full, I know that in order to miss getting hit by that bus, I've got to remember that the money, the food, and the security are blessings from God, not gods themselves.

"In their affliction they will earnestly seek Me," says God (Hosea 5:15). If I earnestly seek even when times are good, I'm guessing I'll find that the joy that all the blessings bring me pales in comparison.

A Morning Cloud

I routinely tell my students that there are 3 kinds of people in this world:

1. The kind who see someone get hit by a bus, realize that it hurts, and avoid walking out in front of buses.
2. The kind who have to get hit by the bus before they believe that it hurts.
3. The kind who get hit by the bus multiple times and keep jumping out in front, expecting it to feel good, despite all evidence and experience to the contrary.

I'll leave it to my audience's imagination in which category most of my students fall. On a personal level, though, that's one of the reasons I like reading biographies. If I can learn from the lives of others, both what they did well and the mistakes they made, then perhaps I don't have to necessarily experience something in order to understand it. 

That's why the Steve Jobs biography was worth my time. Despite the fact that he is a completely different person from a different generation with a different faith structure and skills in an industry I don't understand, the read was worth my time. It's also why reading the Old Testament is worthwhile as well. Too often the Old Testament is discarded, especially the minor prophets that I've been reading as of late. It's easy to see those books as ancient writing about ancient people in an ancient world, with little bearing on the here and now. (Also, God does an awful lot of smiting in the Old Testament, and people aren't necessarily thrilled to hear about those parts.)

Here's the thing, though: people are people. The Israelites are a mirror for present day humanity, communicating to us likely mistakes and triumphs, highlighting the way people act who alternate between chasing God and doing their damndest to ignore him. In them, I see me. And unfortunately, instead of watching them get hit by the bus and learning from it, it feels an awful lot like watching myself in a bloopers reel, blindly jumping out in front of the bus time and time again.

In the book of Hosea, God makes a point about Israel, comparing them to a prostitute whoring themselves out to the highest bidder, dressing up daily for cheap thrills while discarding God. When that doesn't work, when they are in despair about their daily lives in shambles, they call out to God. 

God has seen this video before. He's seen it since the beginning of man, through generation after generation of followers, seen it in Hosea's time and in me in my youth, in my 20's, and now in my 30's. Because of that, God can wisely respond, "Your faithfulness is like a morning cloud." (Hosea 6:4)

I can often arrogantly read through the silly mistakes of the Israelites, their obstinate and stupid behavior causing them to chase their own shadows in the wilderness and under other rulers over and over again. As soon as I get comfortable and smug, a verse like that one smacks me into reality. Your faithfulness is like a morning cloud. Unpredictable, fleeting, faint, the cloud may be back tomorrow, or it may be a while before it is seen again. My faithfulness is a morning cloud.

I've learned a lot from my survey of the minor prophets. Most of all, I've learned about what the buses look like that I seem to love to jump in front of. The picture is discomforting, as it must be. But the more I watch film of that bus, the better chance I'll have of missing it tomorrow. Or perhaps the next day. After all, I'm a morning cloud.

Beyond Fish Vomit

I'm working my way through the minor prophets in the Old Testament right now, and I'd like to comment in a few posts about what I've learned. The first one I want to address is Jonah.

Jonah and the whale, or the big fish, or the leviathan, or whatever else is trending at the time is a story told to all ages. Jonah attempts to disobey God and hide; God helps him find a better hiding spot inside some large fish's belly. Drowning in fish guts, Jonah learns his lesson and is rewarded with a vomit-induced ride onto shore to finally do the job God sent him to do. The lesson here is easy - don't avoid God's commands for personal convenience, especially if you plan to sail in the near future.

The book of Jonah does not end there, though, and the rest of the story is hardly told. It seems that those wicked people of Ninevah, those depraved degenerates whom Jonah has been sent to chastise and forewarn of their impending doom, actually listen to Jonah and repent. Here's where the story gets good (and familiar).

Jonah is furious with this outcome. After all his trouble, he wanted a front row seat to some serious Sodom and Gomorrah action. These are wicked people, after all, who deserve to be struck down with great vengeance and furious anger, to use a Pulp Fiction reference. Instead, God relents, much to Jonah's dismay.

Logically, this seems backward. He was there preaching, they listened, and everyone is safe; why wouldn't Jonah be thrilled with this? The answer - he's just like all of us who often root for evil people to stay evil. See, when the jerk with whom you work performs another enormous act of jackassery, ask yourself this question: are you happy about it? Do you recount the tale for others, relishing in the growing evil of one you've already deem awful? When the athlete you hate gets arrested or is thrown off a team or provides one more outrageous, asinine interview to the media, do you soak it in? When your boss makes one more incompetent decisions, or provides another shameless lie, are you somehow comforted?

Shamefully, I am. It's comforting because it's less complicated. It means I was right about them, that I was clever enough to see them for the jerk, idiot, or devil that they are. I am good, they are not - clear lines are drawn with me on the right side. The more mistakes they make, the less I have to think and feel and hope for them. If they're evil, they're hopeless, and certainly I'm not responsible for the well-being of the hopelessly evil in the world?

Jonah was backward, and so am I, and I'm guessing so are many of my readers. While it's nearly impossible to admit to hoping that those we despise remain contemptible, it's not hard to understand why it happens. 

Don't miss the part after the fish upchuck. Jonah sounds selfish and godless in his error, and so do we. 

What I Wish I Had Said at the Beginning

The problem with writing a blog from a Christian perspective is that the likelihood is there of angering a great many people from time to time, none of whom will be in a hurry to burn down my home but who may seethe quietly, tsk tsking a perceived "holier than thou" arrogance. Really, it's the problem with talking about the nuts and bolts of Christianity anywhere, in any way, to anyone.

This is why I wish I were as smart as C.S. Lewis. I'm reading Mere Christianity again right now, and about every five sentences I come across a brilliant line that I've got to stop and soak in. One really stood out to me yesterday, though, one I wish I had said myself a long time ago. In describing the Christian lifestyle, Lewis writes, "I am not trying to tell you in this book what I could do - I can do precious little - I am telling you what Christianity is."

And there it is. Whatever I write here, whatever I talk about, whatever I discuss in conversations with friends and family, both believers and atheists, this is where I'm coming from. And it's where a great many Christians are coming from when they talk about the faith as well. Talking about perfection (Christ) is not a claim of perfection from the individual. Lewis, like all of us, "can do precious little" on his own; but failing to do something perfectly does not disqualify one from understanding the message. Getting a math problem wrong does not mean I have to quit believing in math, and knowing how to teach point guards doesn't mean I can play the position. 

Yes, a great many "Christians" get this wrong. The tenets of Christianity they love to talk about are the ones they are easily able to follow. They are creating a bad name for the faith, and I apologize for them. But they are the weak Christians, if they are Christians at all. It is the strong ones who will talk about Christ's teachings on lust or money or forgiveness and add that they struggle mightily. The strong ones talk about their weaknesses. But they also understand that the fact they are weak doesn't give them a "get out of truth free" card.

Whatever I write here, I write to get closer to the truth. I write to challenge myself and encourage others to discuss that truth, debate that truth, and chase that truth. We are all imperfect. But we don't get closer to perfection and truth by lying about what it is.

A Singular Focus: Part 3

So what can be taken from all my writing on Steve Jobs (see previous posts on him winning and losing)? The connecting factor, his singular focus, contributes both to his success and failure. What is a motivated individual seeking to make his mark on the world to do with this? Focus more? Focus less?

One obvious takeaway is that you can't have everything. It sounds simple, but many like myself act shocked when we discover it to be true. The Atlantic recently ran a cover headline touting: "Why Women Still Can't Have it All." Much to the chagrin of many women, the article (written by a woman) explains that it's nearly impossible to continuously climb the professional ladder and be an all-star mom. To take the time to be a great mother requires sacrifices.

There was some outrage accompanying the story, but this is foolishness. The cover could have just as easily read "Why People Can't Have it All." Men can't either. Choices must be made. I guarantee that Barak Obama is not an all-star father right now. He can't be. For that manner, neither can Mitt Romney. Neither can anyone else whose profession requires of them a great deal in order to be successful. They can be a dad. They might even be a good dad. But an all-star at work and at home? They simply cannot have it all.

I have faced this myself. Since the premature death of my head coaching career, I have longed to be a head coach once again, that passion still burning within. Since that time, I've had two head coaching offers. As badly as I wanted to chase those professional goals, to say yes meant to sacrifice something. They each would have made it harder on my family. I spent days weighing pros and cons; it took days because it's true - you can't have it all.

As I've made it abundantly clear on this blog and through Facebook posts, I am thrilled to now be done with grad school. During those three years, I couldn't have it all either. I chose this degree. That meant I chose many hours in my office working, not building relationships, not chasing goals, not smiling much. I had to choose.

I bring these up not to say that I chose wisely, just that a choice had to be made. And the lesson from the Jobs book, then, is to choose carefully. If you have only one priority, you can be unbelievably great at that one area. If you want fifty areas of interest in your life, you might be well-rounded, but you also might not be any good. I like what Jobs did at Apple when he came back: he put up four categories that were Apple's priorities and said anything that fell outside of those was getting cut. No more resources, no more time, no more people were spent outside of the four quadrants.

I was able to cut my personal list to only two for July and August: writing and relationships. Having been burdened by grad school for so long, I knew what I missed most and had sacrificed the most in that time. I've tried to take my time and spend as much as I can advancing relationships (family, friends, God) and my writing ambitions. I can't keep up this dual focus for long - school does start again at the end of August and I will eventually have to teach once again. But this is a starting point.

In my journey for right living, for narrow but balanced priorities, the real singular focus that I must have is God. Biblically, there is only one question that I need to ask about the priorities I choose: will this bring glory to God? All of my relationships can accomplish that; they can also be an outlet for ignoring God. I can write for God's glory, or I can write to feel important. The same with the money I make and spend, the books I read, my actions at home, and the rest of what I allow on my calendar.

Your focus, whether singular or not, will be on things that last, or things that don't. If I'm going to live well, I would be well-served to lock in on the eternal.

Why Steve Jobs Lost

In yesterday's post I discussed that in order for Jobs to reach the iconic light in which he is now seen, he had to maintain a singular focus in his life. He won big because he erased all except his target of building Apple into a revolutionary company. Why then, do I title a new post about him losing? Because Jobs lost as big as he won. And why did he lose? The culprit was that same singular focus that got him everything he wanted.

I say that Jobs lost because he lost a ton of relationships. His intense tunnel vision made him ignore employees, friends, his wife, and his children. Based on the contents of the book, filled heavily with interviews from the family itself, those relationships can not be termed victories. He was liked by many, respected by some, and loved by a few; but he left nearly everyone wishing he had done more.

Isaacson writes, "His primary focus was on his work. He was frequently aloof from his two younger daughters, estranged from Lisa (his first daughter whom he abandoned), and often prickly as a husband." His wife, regarding his behavior after one of his battles with cancer, had this to say: "I think it was hard on the family, especially the girls. After two years of him being ill, he finally got a little better, and they expected he would focus a bit on them, but he didn't. . .Like many great men whose gifts are extraordinary, he's not extraordinary in every realm."

A individual who worked closely with him said, "In ways, I still like the man, but I don't believe him."

One individual whom Jobs trusted professionally once challenged him, telling him that humiliating his workers was counterproductive. Jobs' only reply: "This is who I am, and you can't expect me to be someone I'm not."

The striking contrast to me is that at every product launch, Jobs had thousands of people begging for him, shouting and cheering and hanging on every word that he said. They came, practically throwing palm branches into the street, worshiping Jobs and whatever he had to sell. Sitting at home was a family wondering when it was their turn. That turn never came.

Perhaps it's not really a loss if the defeat comes in a game that one wasn't really playing wholeheartedly to begin with. That certainly characterizes Jobs (he admits as much in the text). However, it is a wistful, sorrowful tone that he uses in regret-filled reflections at the end of his life. His products will soon be obsolete, his company run in someone else's vision. What endures will be the memories of those who knew him best but never got to see him at his best.

Why Steve Jobs Won

I just finished reading the Steve Jobs biography by Walter Isaacson this week, and I've come to some interesting conclusions, the first of which is the topic of this post.

Not everyone gets a biography written about him/her. I, for instance, will likely float into obscurity after my death, even more so than the obscurity in which I now live. Isaacson has written biographies on Einstein, Kissinger, and Benjamin Franklin, people who won big in their life. Picking up the book, I questioned how Jobs fit into this category. Isaacson establishes the answer in the book, and it's a worthy story. The answer I wish to discuss now, however, is how did Jobs do it? How did he win big, change the world, and accomplish his lofty goals?

Steve Jobs won for one reason: a singular focus. He shut out everything that kept him from his goal. In an interview with the biographer before his death, Jobs said, "My passion has been to build an enduring company where people were motivated to make great products. Everything else was secondary. Sure, it was great to make a profit, because that was what allowed you to make great products. But the products, not the profits, were the motivation." The biographer succinctly put this into his own words: "his ego needs and personal drives led him to seek fulfillment by creating a legacy that would awe people."

And that is what he did. He created great products. He created and later saved and later reinvented Apple into one of the most successful companies in the world. How we listen to music, what we use our phones to do, and what we have decided those products should look like are all directly connected with Jobs' work. Apple's stock rose and fell based on mere rumors of his health. Steve Jobs wasn't successful in the industry; he was iconic. He gained this because of his intense and singular focus on this one goal.

Part of focus is clearing the clutter. Said Jobs, "Deciding what not to do is as important as deciding what to do," he said. When he took Apple over again, he challenged the company to quit creating many mediocre products and instead create four revolutionary ones. Once a year, he held a retreat for his most valuable employees called "The Top 100." At it he asked for suggestions on what the company should be doing next. The whiteboard had a list of only ten on it, with all employees jockeying for their idea to stay on. When the final ten were decided on, Jobs slashed the bottom seven and said they could only do three. There may have been 25 great ideas, but Apple couldn't do 25 ideas masterfully, something Jobs knew very well. Instead, they cut all but a few essential priorities.

Jobs did this with employees as well. Accomplishing the goal was more important than maintaining feelings. Jobs only wanted "A" players on his team. If someone proved to be a "B" player, they were out, sentiments be damned. Anything less than perfection was berated by Jobs. Using what many who worked with him called his "reality distortion field," Jobs also demanded the impossible of his employees. He didn't let what "couldn't be done" distract him from his vision: if he wanted it, then he believed it was possible and his people simply weren't working hard enough to find it. More often than not, at the risk of being his next target, they found a way to get it done.

Jobs felt "that the world will be a better place with Apple in it," and he made that world a reality. With intolerance for failure and keen tunnel vision on the goal, he got exactly what he was chasing in his professional life.

Christ and Compromise

There are times when a middle ground  makes sense. Our political environment would do well to find compromise, solving verbose battles with quiet, level heads behind the scenes while the diatribe-laden "party leaders" fight it out on cable news. Personal relationships of all kinds are often called to follow the advice of the catchy country song, "You start walking your way, I'll start walking mine. We'll meet in the middle . . ." in order to survive. The business environment is fraught with such deals as well. The middle ground is often a place of progress and peace.

It does not, however, belong in the theology of a church.

I got myself worked up when reading a commentary piece by Jon Meacham in this week's Time Magazine regarding the strategy the Anglican church is taking regarding it's stance on a controversial doctrine. One sentence in particular stood out: the bishop had met with former Secretary of State James Baker and the two "agreed to think out possible diplomatic solutions to the crisis."

Diplomatic solutions? Is that the goal now? Diplomacy? Safety? Peace?

Meacham praises this approach through a muddled argument of needing to value some Scripture over others and to evaluate church doctrine in light of history. While I find Meacham to be a thoughtful and skilled writer, and though I have great respect for the tradition of the Anglican Church, I see this goal of diplomacy a severe divergence from Christ.

Christ was anything but diplomatic. Christ overturned tables, chastised, and challenged, boldly declaring "My way or no way." His love was (and is unconditional), but so was his Truth. He was unwavering in his commitment to the will of His Father. He may be known as the Prince of Peace, but He refused to gain that peace through compromise.

Diplomacy is for church league softball, musical choices, and deciding which brownies to serve at the church potluck, not for theology. There is one standard, set by God. The bishop, as a leader, is responsible for passionately, exhaustively, and humbly seeking out truth, valuing that, and communicating it to his followers. Whatever that truth is, on any issue, to that he must cling. If he wants diplomacy, perhaps leading Christ-followers is the wrong position in which to be.

Umpiring Notes

I've already written about what I learned from basketball camp in the month of June, but I find it relevant to write a little about my high school baseball umpiring experience as well.

Being an umpire now for 8 summers has made me a better coach, and being a coach has made me a significantly better umpire. I'm better at each because I'm able to effectively put myself in the shoes of the other. I know how coaches want to be treated, and I know how umpires want to be spoken to. The coach-umpire relationship is fraught with conflict, disagreement, and emotion; yet the good ones (coaches and umpires) find a way to make that relationship work despite the obstacles. Looking at what it takes to make this work provides some keys for all of us who must deal with difficult people in difficult circumstances.

The first question that must be asked in any confrontational situation is this: Why are you talking? Seriously, what's your goal? As an umpire I tell coaches over and over again that they can ask me anything they want to when we're face to face. They can even tell me I'm wrong. I might be. But if they ask the question from the dugout, or from the third base line, they aren't asking to gain understanding; they aren't trying to fix the problem. All of a sudden, they're trying to create a show for the audience. The only reason to shout from 90 feet away is so that others can see you; and if that's the case, then you've already decided that you're right and the other person is against you. I've also seen some umpires say some pretty dumb things as well. The bad ones talk when they don't need to. They're trying to be cute, or garner favor with coaches, or establish that there will be no relationship and no communication because they've already decided that they're always right and above reproach. It's a stupid way to go, if the goal is effective communication and a relationship that works. It's equally stupid everywhere else besides athletic contests as well. 

Secondly, you've got to realize the goal of the one with whom you're speaking. A coach's goal is to win. Every time. An umpire's goal is to go unnoticed by doing their job well. If both the coach and the umpire can keep in mind the main goal of the other, it washes over a number of sins. If coaches know I'm working hard to do my job well as an umpire, yet I happen to miss a call, they'll get over it. If officials know I'm spending countless hours trying to find a way to win, causing me to make comments I shouldn't, they'll work with me. And if coaches and umpires both understand that they share the goal of participating in a well-played, fair competition for teenage athletes, then all the better. You've got to know where the other person is coming from in order to make it work.

Finally, a short memory is key. I miss calls. I run my mouth from the sidelines. I'm less than perfect in both my athletic jobs. So is everyone else. We can either forget the mistakes and move on, working together towards our shared goal, or we can hold on to wrongs and never effectively work together. It's really tough to forget when you think someone wronged you (see my last post). It's tougher trying to go through life seeking perfect people to work with and share your life with.

Whether in a theological debate, a lovers quarrel, next to a co-worker, or speaking with your kids, I think these ideas are instructive. Speak to gain understanding without putting on a show, realize the goals of those in the conversation, and forget a lot. You may not like who you're working with by the end of it, but you may just have given yourself the opportunity to get what want.

Remember Me Not: What I'm Learning From the Life of Steve Jobs

I'm currently reading the biography on Steve Jobs that came out within the last year. I'm only about 125 pages into it (it runs 600 pages), but it's striking how many people remember just how big of a jerk he was.

Right now I'm up to the late 70's and early 80's when Apple was growing and began creating the Macintosh computer. The author performed most of the interviews for this book in the last couple of years. In vivid detail, over and over and over again, the people who worked with him recall specific ugly events from three decades ago. Some remember how innovative he was, even back then; but those memories are drowning in a sea of angry anecdotes.

I don't write this to throw Steve Jobs under the bus. I never met him. I hear he had an amazing mind and revolutionized industries that I don't understand. He was human. But the point here, is clear: people remember the ugly stuff. In bright, colorful (and likely exaggerated) detail, they can still see in their minds the time that you said. . . whatever it was you shouldn't have. And whether or not they respect you or forgive you, they're going to remember when you were at your worst.

I find this especially relevant to coaches. I can't count the number of times I've heard people, especially adults long past their athletic endeavors, recount the time that some coach said this or that, shattered their spirit, and screwed them over. That coach committed the unforgivable sin of saying the wrong thing. Once. Maybe twice. But once or twice is enough to be remembered for a lifetime.

It's not just coaches, though, that are in this boat. We all are. I had one superintendent who was good to me for most of three years; but in his last year working with me, he lied to my face. I haven't forgotten it. I've had friends, past and present, who were great 99% of the time. I've forgotten some of the good; but even though the past is done and there are no grudges, I can still remember the few times I've felt wronged. And I know there are countless students, athletes, co-workers, and friends who will probably remember me the way Steve Jobs' co-workers and friends remembered him.

This is unavoidable, but it doesn't have to be prevalent. Knowing this about human nature, be careful. Today's words matter. Before that first cup of coffee, speak less. When angry or in confrontation, choose words carefully. If you're in a position of authority or influence, demand of yourself to be "on" all the time. Actions may speak louder than words, but words are usually remembered longer when they're the wrong ones.

Notes From Camp 2012: Not a Finished Product

Our week of basketball camp ended with a weekend at the Iowa State team camp. We concluded with a phrase that we like to remind the players of at varying points of the season: "We are not a finished product." Win or lose, in June, the pieces are simply not completely put together. Nobody is as good as they're going to be, and we're not entirely sure what we're going to look like when it's all said and done. The message is the same to individuals and to the team as a whole.

With this perspective, current weaknesses are less daunting, less permanent. Hope for success is abundant and control over the outcome is placed firmly in the hands of the team. The message is clear: whatever you are now, you don't have to be when the season is all over. We can be better, or worse. The opportunity presents itself to define what the finished product should look like, what it will take to make that a reality, and display through action how important that vision is.

We use this phrase in November as well as we prepare for our pre-Christmas games. The phrase is repeated over Christmas break as we adjust and plan for the stretch run. But we don't get to say it in February. As coaches are fond of saying that time of year, you are what you are. The product is ultimately finished, and that product will either match the vision or depressingly count the days until that vision can be forgotten. I've seen both types of teams - those reaching their potential and playing with confidence in the stretch run, and those who will remember their experience as one full of "might-have-been's."

This is an essential phrase for everyone outside of team sports as well because we aren't finished products either. Many aspects of our lives are undefined, developing, fluid. Your reputation is not a finished product. Neither is your marriage or your relationship with your family. Same with your career, your cooking skills, the physical shape you're in, and your relationship with God. We all have time to define what the finished product should look like and take action accordingly.

Ignoring the fact that a product is being formed in a certain area of life won't do any of us any good. The season will end, and you will be in the locker room facing what your final performance turned out to be. Ignoring it just guarantees that the product will be a disappointment. And you can't look at the losses in your past to determine what your vision should look like. Yeah, they mattered. They might have been shattering losses. But the season isn't over with. It might be just beginning. What do you want the end to look like?

What our players must face, and so must all of us, is that each day we're moving toward the end. It's not here. We have time to get where we want to be. But every day we either move closer or further away from that vision of what we want to be. 

This is the last of the 2012 Camp posts. I've enjoyed this series again this year and hope to continue them in the future. If you missed any of the previous posts from this year, you can click on them below:

Look Like You Care

Learn While You're Watching

What If I Didn't Foul?

Notes from Camp 2012: What if I Didn't Foul?

Sportsmanship is a constant theme emphasized by our head coach in the youth camp. Younger kids (who are quick studies) are prone to bickering, especially about fouls and fairness. This is never so true as during the vaunted one-on-one tournament. 

When we're about to begin the tournament every year, we go over the rules in careful detail and then wait for the inevitable flood of questions from the kids. Some are questions that have already been answered; some are questions about obscure, unimaginable scenarios; and others are questions about drinks or the weather. Eventually, someone gets to a question of fairness. This year was no different. Upon discovering that the offense calls the fouls, one kid asked the obvious question: "What if they say 'foul,' and I didn't foul them?" 

Our head coach's response was perfect: "That's how life goes."

While not exactly what the kid wanted to hear, I'm sure, it's exactly what he needed to hear. So do most adults. That's how life goes. Unfairness occurs. Difficult people are all around. Basically, you will get screwed over at some point. Expect it.

I suppose one has to be careful. If you constantly expect the worst from people, that's not good either. But I think it's fair to expect the best and accept that you'll be disappointed at times. Rather than throwing adult-sized fits to all who will listen, desperately seeking for retribution or some judge to declare you the winner, perhaps a better response is a deep breath, a disappointed sigh, and a rugged determination to win anyway.

Christians especially must get better at this. Many of us at some time or another behave as if we believe that because we have God, we should expect comfort. Or at the very least, we should expect to win most of the time here on earth. But that's not the case. Yes, if God is for you, who can be against you? But that doesn't mean you don't live in a fallen world. God was with Daniel, and he was tossed into a den of lions. God was with Jonah, and Peter, and Joshua, and Moses, and Paul. All of them lived under pretty terrible conditions at times. And the Bible is full of their complaints. But almost every one of the complaints is followed by verbal expressions of shame at their doubt in the goodness of God.

There are certainly many losses in this life for which tears are appropriate. Weep for them. But know the difference. If it's just another game of one-on-one, deal with it, silently, and find a way to win anyway.

Notes From Camp 2012: Learn While You're Watching

Very few events frustrate coaches as much as teaching a drill, a play, or a skill to a group of players, have one group perform the task well, and then have the next group stumble cluelessly through. At this point the average coach sighs heavily and repeats instructions. Thirty seconds later, when the next group is up, the same bumbling cluelessness dominates again. Here the strategy amongst coaches differs: some will shake their head, some yell, some patiently reteach once again, and many stare at the assistant coaches in despair and disbelief. This inevitably occurred at camp, and the coaching staff found themselves repeating the phrase "learn while you're watching" over and over and over.

Yet no matter how many times we said it, and no matter how many times we will say it in the future, some kids just aren't going to get it. Unless they're not the one physically doing it at the time, their attention is elsewhere. We had some kids watch a drill for 5 minutes, watch 10 kids in front of them go through the drill, and still be lost or out to lunch when their turn came up to perform a single task. I see it in the classroom all the time as well. I give directions, get asked questions that I've already addressed in the directions, then get asked again. 

Perhaps this is a product of the times. We don't have to really know anything - we can Google it. Forget what you were supposed to buy at the store? Just text and find out. Forget directions? Pull out your phone. No idea when your mother's birthday is? Perhaps Facebook will tell you. 

One cannot be constantly in the action. At some point, we must all sit back and watch in our lives. It's not always our turn. But our turn is coming up. Whether it's finally our turn in a job, a relationship, or a bags tournament, there will be a time to perform. What will you do while you wait? Daydream? Text aimlessly? Complain about the wait till it is your turn? Or learn? 

Get ready. Your turn is coming. And you don't want to be the one causing those sighs and desperate looks from the coaching staff.