Monday, March 21, 2011

The Joy of Involvement

So I read this quote on a friend's twitter feed yesterday:

"I never trust anyone who's more excited about success than about doing the thing that they want to be successful at." -- xkcd

Holy crap that floored me. That's me in a nutshell and not at all in a good way. Three decades in and I'm still far, far too focused on being a success in everything that I attempt to do. I was having a conversation with one of the other coaches I work with a couple of months back and he asked me if I loved to win or hated to lose. Without blinking I said "I hate to lose." Because I do. I'm terrified of being viewed as a failure. But that view of failure is built on a lie that has buried itself deep into my psyche and I'm only starting to grasp hold of and get rid of.

You see, I've become certain that "winning" for me will never be found in victory, or acclaim, or professional success. Instead, I'm feeling increasingly called into faithful investment that finds relentless joy in being a part of the greater story that I'm being drawn into (so much about story lately!). What's incredible is not so much looking at events and labeling them as successful, but instead looking at eras or timeframes and seeing dynamic patterns for growth and change. There's something so compelling in seeing that continued drive and the love that it reveals: a love from a God that continues to draw us out despite our own "failings" and weaknesses.

I'm also reassessing the things I'm involved in and trying to intentionally look for the joy that can be found in being part, in knowing that I'm blessed enough to be involved in things that I love to do. It's crazy to think that I've had so many opportunities to be involved in ministry that has been life giving and meaningful over the last year and I really don't want to lose sight of that. It'd be a shame if I did.

Friday, March 18, 2011

Processing

I was talking to my friend Jon after chapel this week and we were talking about Peter (the subject of chapel that week) and how it's incredible to actually list out the major events of his life, because he's a lot more flawed than we have a tendency to even realize. I mean, sure, he's the first apostle to understand that Jesus is the Messiah, he's really the rock and catalyst of the church's young growth, he shows an eagerness to completely leave everything behind ... but he's also the apostle that Jesus referred to as "Satan", he cut off a dude's ear, he denied Jesus three times, he isolated himself ethnically and got called out on it by Paul. He was deeply flawed all the way through his life. Looking at that, Jon said that he is really quick to forget that God is so much more about process than product, that he looks at the scope of our lives more than the individual successes or failures.

I'm so about product.

I've got this fiercely competitive side, which has always served me really well in sports as a player, but always leads me to this attitude where I am evaluating whether I'm winning or losing at that moment (no connections to Sheen intended). The problem with this is those fleeting moments are only part of the greater story of my life that God is calling me into. The story that's being woven into the even larger story of those I've been called to be in community with, and even the world that expands so far outside of that. So individual successes our failures while uniquely exciting and frustrating in the moment really have jack squat to do with the bigger picture.

I'm learning to surrender the product to the process, but this is not an easy thing. I was sitting down with a friend of mine and discussing the last season of soccer that I had just finished coaching. We had just lost a tough game and I was really focused on that game as a gauge for how the season had gone. In response to this, my friend stopped me and made me break down my top 5 moments for the season. What was so cool about that was the fact that none of the moments that came to mind were about winning a game, instead they were moments that reflected greater progress, growth, or success in the lives of my players. It really made me realize how easy it is to lose the plot in light of momentary failure and forget about what's truly important.

So I'm still pressing into this one. I don't want to lose sight of appreciating the small victories of the day to day or continuing to seek for fresh victory in areas where I'm falling short/failing, but I want to be more aware of the bigger picture, the larger story.

Monday, March 14, 2011

Finding myself to lose myself.

I'm leaving for the UK in a little over two weeks with my dad. It's been so long since I've traveled just for kicks, which is intriguing in itself because I have a real tendency to associate mission or soul searching or growth with travelling. I go on these intentional trips of soul searching and discovery, but this time I'm just bumming around England and Scotland with my pops. I couldn't be more excited.

I'm fully aware that one of the central aspects of my personality is intensity. I have a tendency to have to assign deep meaning, purpose, narrative to everything. Which on one hand makes for some really interesting and deep experiences in life and on the other hand can get you lost in this cycle where you forget how to lighten up. I feel like there's something so necessary about that: to live life at times just for the sake of living it, to enjoy moments just because they've been given to you, to appreciate rest just because it's restful. It's like that line in "Waiting for the 7.18" by Bloc Party... "give me moments/not hours or days." Sometimes I forget to just chill out and appreciate the blessing of the completely meaningless but fulfilling little stuff that I'm blessed with on a daily basis. I want to write because it's fun, take pictures of things that catch my eye just because they look cool, have conversations about stupid stuff with my dad (like why Lucas ruined the Star Wars trilogy or why Monty Python is amazing), make random guesses about what the next 10 years is going to look like. I just want to rest and live and enjoy myself for a bit. It feels like such a gift to have that experience coming down the pike.

So, at the end of the day, I'm excited to have an opportunity to not think about where I'm at, to not try to find some greater message or metaphor, to not be so concerned with finding deeper purpose. I'm excited just to hang out and see what God does with that. It could be pretty epic.

Monday, March 7, 2011

Layovers

I've got this t-shirt that says "the only constant is change, there's only growth or decay." I bought it because I resonated with that phrase. I kind of hate it now. Not in a "that phrase is so far off" sort of way but more in a "man I wish that phrase was more off" sort of way. The thing is that decay is comfortable. It's easy. You can even decay in such a gradual manner that it looks an awful lot like keepin' on keepin' on. But I've had this steady itch in the back of my mind that's pushed me towards growth this year and it's been amazing and really taxing all at the same time.

I think the reason that it's been taxing is I want to be able to say that I did it, that I made it. I've been struggling lately with this desire to feel like I've arrived, that I've come to a place where I can essentially say that I've become the man that I'm supposed to be, that I'm "all growns up" (for lack of a better term). God's having none of that. This year has been one long stretch fest. I feel like Bilbo in the Hobbit when he says that he feels like butter spread over too much bread. It's been a year of being constantly reminded that there's stuff to grow in, be stretched in, be transparent in. And that stuff isn't going to just get fixed. In fact, they're part of the larger processes that will most likely define my life for the rest of the time that I've given.

In the past I've had this tendency to come to moments of calm, moments where I'm not being pushed, tested, challenged, etc. and thought "yeah, I did it... I made it" (respect to Kevin Rudolf). But I'm realizing, more and more, that these are just the layovers. The exchanges from growth to growth, the moments where God, in his infinite wisdom and compassion, allows us a break, a rest, before he says "come on now, you can do it, it's time to press in again." There's something exciting in that, a stirring momentum that reminds you that this is all a steady push towards heaven, towards experiencing the glory we were always intended for. I think I'm way farther from having arrived than I've ever thought, but I think that's ok.