You Can't Always Get What You Want

My last post established that conflict is everywhere and unavoidable. In light of that, I’d like to devote a couple of posts to commentary on conflict. Today I’d like to look at what I see is the biggest root of conflict: desire.

Ultimately, conflict arises because there is a discrepancy between desire and reality. If I am entering conflict with somebody else, it is because either my desires or their desires are not matching up with reality, and the other person is to blame. I desire silence and my kid starts screaming - conflict. I desire to use the copy machine, but it’s broke; and the person who broke it left it for me to deal with - conflict. I desire not to see the underpants of 17 year old boys, but they feel fashion dictates for them to wear their jeans down around their thighs - conflict. It’s all a matter of desire; if my desires aren’t met or I’m not meeting the expectations of others’ desired realities, there will be a battle. After all, conflict is inevitable.

As I said in my last post, some of these desires are worth fighting for. I want my classroom silent during worktime, and I’ll engage in conflict with anyone trying to disrupt that. I want my daughters to obey and respect their parents. I want Netflix to leave my movie rental plan alone. These are not unreasonable desires.

However, I think knowing that conflict is inevitable provides us an opportunity to examine our desires and see if they’re worthy. What that I desire is worth fighting for? What is worth the conflict? And what would be nice, but I could live without? I know that I have many desires. I’m human. I’m sure you do too. Do I really need to go to battle for all of them? Am I really entitled to all of my wants?

For Christians, the question is simplified even more: Is what I desire going to ultimately bring me more comfort, or more glory for God? I think a lot of desires fall into one of those two categories, and I’m not sure there’s a lot of gray in between. If the answer is comfort for self, it’s probably not worth the potential damage to relationships to fight for it. If the answer is for the glory of God, then we should relax and approach it calmly anyway: He is in complete control, and we are His servants.

When conflict arises today, ask yourself what you really want. Let the answer guide the conflict from there.

Conflict is Coming

Somewhere along the line of human history, people in general have come to fear conflict. It's awkward, and we tend to avoid it if possible; and that seemed to make perfect sense to me until recently. My pastor noted something interesting in a sermon a few weeks back that stuck with me:

"This side of heaven, there will always be conflicts."

He's right, and that thought has stayed with me for a while. Humanity is fallen and selfish; the world is not a perfect place. Therefore, conflict will, and must occur. It's a fact of life. What's so striking about this is how shocked and frustrated I (and I assume most others) get when conflict pops up.

If I really think about it, I probably haven't encountered a conflict free day at school in a long, long time. I work with people, so it's inevitable. I am routinely in conflict with students, staff, parents, administration, or our "technology"; more often than not, it's some combination of all of it. Yet every time I get edgy or indignant. My sarcasm rises, and I seek out people to tell me that I'm right. Most ridiculously, I feel shocked that someone would dare come into conflict with me.

Recognizing the truth that conflict is inevitable on this side of heaven pushes me to be ready for conflict and not react poorly. Instead of responding with righteous indignation, a battle-plan for victory, witty retorts, or back-handed commentary, I could just seek reconciliation. I imagine that would be much more productive than running around screaming, "You're not going to believe what _____________ just said. . ."

By saying reconciliation, I'm not advocating just laying down and letting people walk all over me. There are many ideas, causes, and situations worth fighting for. Reconciliation isn't avoidance, and it's not becoming a doormat. No, some conflict is definitely worth engaging in.

All I'm saying is that some ways of entering into conflict are more effective than others. Shock is certainly not one of the effective ways. Instead, preparation, expectation, and direct discussion with the source all provide a better chance at ending (instead of avoiding) that conflict.

Someone is going to make both you and I angry tomorrow. Maybe even before that first cup of coffee. Let's be ready.

Change Theory

Change is hard.

In my yearly time of reflection afforded me by my two week break from teaching, I've once again been trying to consider what to change. I want to live on purpose, to take account of what is going well and what isn't, to actively pursue excellence in my experiences rather than rest on the laurels of the status quo. I am not living perfectly, or even at times competently; and these two weeks always give me a chance to stop checking papers, stop watching game film, stop writing grad papers, and decide on a game plan for the next few months.

The question I must answer is whether or not there can be a change to the game plan. You change strategy when you want a different result. Do I want a different result? I ask this because I am realizing more and more that change always costs something. My life and my time are full. All of ours is. We all spend our time and energy on something, filling our days with whatever we choose to fill them with. That might be video games, mission trips, Facebook, movies, yoga, work, or some complex combination of it all. If my goal for change is to be better at video games, I can't just spend more time on that. I've got to spend less time on something, perhaps yoga, in order to invest the time in video games. There is a cost.

To put it in basketball terms, when we put together a game plan, we cannot have it all. We cannot score all our points on the perimeter and all our points in the post. We cannot focus all our practice time on offense and all of defense. We can't double team every player on the other team. We have to choose. What are we willing to give up in order to get what we most want? What balance do we require in order to give ourselves the best chance to win?

That's where I'm at right now. I want live better at certain aspects of my life than I am right now. What am I willing to give up, though? What do I value with my time now that I can afford to sacrifice? I don't have a good answer. The danger with changing because it's a new year and it's time to change is not taking into account the costs or what will be sacrificed. If I dive headlong into the proposed changes, it might cost me something that brings me great joy now. Therefore, part of the consideration for change has to be, "What have I been doing well? What actions or priorities am I absolutely unwilling to part with?"

This year I hope for positive change, for all of you and for myself as well. May we all be wise in our game-planning.

Bonus Day

My wife and I officially dubbed December 23 this year, “Bonus Day.” Often we don’t get off of work for Christmas break until the 23rd, making our Christmas stay with my family a mad dash of present opening and event hopping. We arrive, have to rush to fit everything in, then rush to leave to go see her family and rush through it all once again. This year, however, our last day of work was the 22nd. We were able to take the 23rd and simply relax at my parents house: no agenda, no schedule, no gifts to open. It was magnificent. I loved Bonus Day.

We got a Bonus Day at Emily’s family’s house as well on December 26. We opened presents on the evening of the 25th, but the 26th had no schedule at all. It was another great day.

My two Bonus Days got me thinking about how and why humans gather with the people they love. Usually, especially with the distance between families and friends in today’s culture, a special occasion is required for people to get together. An event needs to be planned, like a wedding, a funeral, or Christmas present opening. These are incidents that we make priorities, and we should. They are celebration-worthy.

However, I don’t think we have enough bonus days. We need to make more room for them, make them priorities, find ways to gather with absolutely nothing on the agenda. Weddings are busy - so often the bride and groom and their families lament that they wish they had been able to talk to more people there. Christmas can be hectic, especially when trying to make room for present-opening, church services, and other traditions that are important but fill the schedule.

Essentially what I’m trying to get at here is that I’ll probably have way more memories from my two Bonus Days this year than I will from the actual Christmas events. I’ll remember a spirited game of Wii bowling, my 4-year old leading an exercise workout for all of us requiring invisible kettlebells, and competing to see who could get Jeopardy answers out before the others in the room. I’ll remember the multi-category cooking contest put on by my wife’s family, listening to my daughter laugh while throwing rocks into the river to break the ice, and the random conversations with a family friend around the table. All of these things were possible only on Bonus Day, on unscheduled, uneventful, unplanned time together.

On Friday night several good friends will be staying with Emily and I for one more Bonus Day. The only thing on the schedule is dinner at 8. For the rest, we’ll see where the wine and the conversation takes us.

I love Bonus Day.

How?

Watching the news, following politics, or just watching ordinary people and their actions, it's difficult to avoid the question of how? How will our weak-minded excuse of a Congress ever get anything done? How will the economy ever recover? How will I get disinterested teenagers to care about their education? How can I send my daughters out into the world and hope for the best? How will the college football world ever fix the BCS bowl mess?

Okay, some of these questions are more important than others, but it's tough to have hope for whatever one wants to hope in without seeing how something might be done. It's easier and more logical to be cynical. I have relationships in my life that I'd like to be better, but I can't see how that will ever be possible. I love to dream big with my life, but some of my dreams come with no "how" map. I want to believe that the public school system will be better, that our government will be better, and that small towns and small schools in Iowa have a bright and growing future. I just don't see how. Without the "how," there's no real hope.

I've lost hope in a lot, and I don't believe unreasonably so. Facts are facts: it does no good to delude myself into embracing impossible utopias in the name of being a "positive person." It's important to keep searching for "how's" with the really important stuff - curing cancer, overcoming hunger, that sort of thing - even when the answer is so hard to come by. But sometimes a spade is a spade is a spade.

I was reminded, though, on Christmas morning, that the answer of "how" to so many questions can be answered quite simply. The text in church was from Isaiah's prophecy in Chapter 9:

"For unto us a Child is born,

Unto us a Son is given;

And the government will be upon His shoulder.

And His name will be called Wonderful Counselor,

Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. . .

The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this. (9:6-7)

In an impossible time, among a people desperate for something different and something better, Isaiah tells them it's going to fine. How? The zeal of the Lord. If it is his will, it will be done. Virgin mother? No problem. Betrayal? Easy. Ridiculously ineffective religious leaders? Who needs them. A little omniscient zeal works every time, in all times, with all peoples. If you're going his way, if you've got a kingdom agenda, "how" is a much easier question to answer.

How will I reconcile a hopeless relationship? How will I find the energy to pray? How will I be forgiven for the black deeds in my life? How will I, in all my weaknesses, become who God has designed me to be? How will I lead my children through the minefield of a me-first American culture hell-bent on handouts and hubris?

The zeal of the Lord of hosts will perform this. . .

A Servant to Emulate

Pregnancy can be a scary ordeal. Perhaps "anxiety-inducing" is a better term. Regardless of situation, the topic of pregnancy produces anxiety, both good and bad. I remember various stages of "pregnancy anxiety" over the course of my marriage. Early on I remember an unplanned situation in which we thought Emily could be pregnant (she wasn't). Anxiety. I remember the intimidating process of deciding when we were "ready" to try to become pregnant. More anxiety. I then remember learning that she was pregnant, then experiencing difficulties, and later successes, and later children that were all of a sudden here and mine and full of smiles and needs. Major anxiety. And now I have conversations with friends of similar ages and circumstances, all centered around the topic of, "Are you done? Do you think you'll have another? What's your plan?"

Becoming pregnant, avoiding pregnancy, planning pregnancy, and experiencing pregnancy are all situations that are loaded with emotions, life-altering decisions, and careful consideration. It's not something that people in our culture like to be surprised about.

When I remember that Mary was a real person, a young, unmarried female with real goals and aspirations and plans, the account of the events before Jesus was born are fascinating. And most fascinating of all is that she had to respond to being an unwed virgin mother. She didn't plan for this; she couldn't even conceive (no pun intended) of the possibility. Then all of a sudden an angel shows up and says, "By the way, you're pregnant. Ready to be a mom? Oh, by the way, the child is not normal. You've heard of the Messiah? Yeah, good luck raising him. Don't screw up, okay? And tell your fiance not to worry."

Anxiety. Big anxiety. I'd have a few words for the angel if I were Mary. I'd ask a lot of "Why me?" questions. I'd complain loudly and rush out to tell other people how I got screwed over and it wasn't even my fault (one of my all-time favorite things to do when tough times are thrust upon me). I'm sure Mary had anxiety. She even had a few words for the angel. But they are rather unlike what mine might have been:

"Behold, the servant of the Lord. Let it be to me according to your word." (Luke 1:38)

Mary's whole world has been changed. Everything she grew up envisioning for herself is likely never going to happen, and she knows that. Her personal aspirations are dead. And her response to God? "Thy will be done."

Mary recognizes what I have so much trouble remembering - my life is not my own. I don't exist to be comfortable, nor do I exist for my own plans. The death of self is crucial in the life of a disciple of Christ. Anxiety-laden times reveal the character of people. The young virgin had it all figured out. She is a servant to emulate.

Philosophy 6: Knowledge is Fluid

Here is my sixth and final post in a series of brief personal philosophical statements stemming from my graduate course final. This is my second writing dealing with epistemology (What is knowledge? What does it mean to know?). I hope you’ve enjoyed the series.

Philosophy position #6: Knowledge is fluid.
What I know is constantly changing. That doesn’t mean I was wrong before or that I didn’t truly “know” something; it simply means that I can know it better or more thoroughly now. The concept of love is perhaps my favorite example of this. When I told my future wife that I loved her when we were eighteen, I knew what love is and I meant it. Three years later on our wedding day, my knowledge of love was stronger. Now, ten years, two kids, and three moves later, I shudder to think about the difference between what I know now and what I knew then. Again, I wasn’t wrong before; I just know more thoroughly now. When it comes to love, I fully intend to know exponentially more in twenty-five years as I do now. This is true for love, God, basketball defensive theory, and Transcendental literature.

Because knowledge is fluid, I can’t fully “know” if I don’t keep pursuing this knowledge. I can’t follow the crowd and embrace an “ignorance is bliss” approach. It’s a tempting road to take. New knowledge, or better knowledge, carries with it consequences. To add to knowledge and know more fully requires living according to the new or better knowledge. That equates to change. At the cost of comfort. But comfort kills. Therefore, I can accept that I know something now and that I still need to pursue deeper knowledge.