Choosing to Finish Well
I had a short stint running track when I was in middle school. It was enjoyable until the coach put me in an 800 meter race that I had not prepared for. As a sprinter, I applied what I knew and started out strong. But halfway through I had nothing left and ended up coming in last place. Not only was that the last track meet I ever participated in, but it was also the day it dawned on me that what is reserved for the end of a race is just as important, if not more so, as what is put in at the start.
Of course, beginnings are important. Poor starts in athletic events, and life itself, can make winning seem impossible. But even with a disappointing outset, the end is never fully determined until the crossing of the finish line or the ticking of the last second off the clock. It’s true of races, soccer matches, and football games. The way a person or team finishes, more than how they begin, says much about who they are and what they value.
This is true for how life and faith are lived out as well.
They Were Chosen, But . . .
The Bible is full of stories of people who started out well but are now remembered for their poor finishes. Saul, the first king of Israel, comes to mind. He seemed to be such a humble unassuming guy when he was first anointed to lead Israel. But by the time his reign ended, he was ignoring all the instructions of God’s law and prophets and was a paranoid and unstable man. And then there was Judas. Chosen by Jesus as one of the Twelve, he had every opportunity to be remembered as one of the pillars of the Christian faith. Instead, he ended up being a thief and then betraying Jesus to the religious leaders for a bag of silver.
Strong beginnings in life are helpful. But it is how one finishes that speaks the loudest and most powerfully impacts those watching.
Read MoreChoosing My Identity
During my senior year in high school, my football coach referred to me as a “great athlete.” I was shocked but ecstatic that he would say such a thing. That was NOT how I saw myself. I had had minimal interest in athletics most my life, never finding deep personal fulfillment on any particular team, preferring to spend time reading books. Playing sports (when I did) was mostly a pathway for acceptance from peers. But with those words, uttered from a man who had driven us hard into the Oregon State Quarter Final Playoffs (where we were soundly defeated), I felt as if I had found myself. Soon after the season ended, the same coach encouraged me to try out for a college team (albeit a small one). I was pumped with a new and alluring picture of myself: Jeff the athlete!
What am I, really?
It wasn’t until a long conversation a month later with my girlfriend (who would eventually be my wife) that I faced what was really going on inside. I didn’t really want to play football. It was the newly-embraced athletic image that I was seeking to maintain. Even then, however, I did not yet realize that I was seeking a narrow, two-dimensional picture of myself that could easily answer the question, “who am I?” Being an athlete was such an easy, culturally acceptable, ready-made handle that was difficult to let go of.
I ended up not playing any sports in college. And the answer to my question remained elusive. Even as I tried various activities and jobs over the next few years and explored different college majors, I was unable to compress myself into a neat and tidy manageable understanding of who or what I was.
Lesson learned: The longing for a clarified identity never leaves. I always feel driven to center my self-understanding on that one thing that makes me feel unique, that I can do better than those around me, or that just makes me feel good and right.
Read MoreChoosing the Right Kind of Yeast
Freshly baked bread. The smell and the taste of it are difficult to beat, especially when it’s warm, just out of the oven. My mother made it when I was growing up and still occasionally does. It’s a comforting memory associated with good and pleasant feelings. Even now, as I seek to eat healthier, I often choose to ignore the amount of carbs I’m taking in as I slather butter on the second and third pieces. What is it that gives freshly baked bread its reassuring flavor and fluffy texture?
The mystery of leaven was first introduced to me as I watched Mother bake. She would allow me and my brother to take turns “punching” the rising dough down as it expanded. As little boys, we were in awe of how it grew, spilling out of the large bowl. And then of course, there was the final product. Yum! I learned to appreciate yeast even more after tasting a type of bread that had no kind of leaven in it. In the opinion of my young still-developing palate, nothing compared to the light and airy texture of what could be produced from a few teaspoons of the ivory-colored grains mixed with flour and water.
Leaven in the Bible
But a bit of confusion settled in when I began to read the Old Testament for myself. Yeast, or leaven, appeared to be something bad. As the Jews celebrated Passover each year, they were instructed to cleanse their homes of any form of the substance. What? Get rid of this wondrously magical stuff? I learned that on one hand it was meant to remind Israel of their rescue from slavery in Egypt, when they did not have time to use yeast and let their bread rise before baking. But on the other hand, the prohibition on all forms of leaven for the Passover celebration seemed to indicate the idea that yeast represented something negative.
And then I read some of the words of Jesus, and I was even more confused. One day after performing the great miracle of provision — multiplying bread and fish for thousands — He told his disciples to be alert to the dangers of leaven. The yeast of the Pharisees and Sadducees was mentioned specifically (Matthew 16:6). Being that these two religious and political groups were not known for their baking skills, what was Jesus talking about?
Read MoreChoosing the Deeper Desire
I first smoked a cigar in college. Somehow I had managed to avoid all tobacco before that. When I joined several other film students in a project to tell a story set during a poker game, we decided our set needed to be filled with smoke. Of course there were other ways to produce that image without actually smoking multiple cigars (I see that now). But in our youthful wisdom, lighting up and puffing on multiple stogies was “obviously” the best way. Unfortunately for me, I sought no outside guidance on whether this was a good idea nor on how to go about smoking my first few wads of rolled tobacco leaves. By the end of filming, I was not feeling well. I also could not recall why I had been so eager to do this. And in case you’re wondering, the film turned out to be an embarrassment. We put more thought into filling our room with smoke than the actual story we chose to tell.
I look back and still wonder why I was so excited to light up that first time. The best answer I can come up with is that I wasn’t in touch with my real desires. Though I had refrained from tobacco throughout my high school years, the image of a real man sitting in a high-backed chair casually blowing smoke rings massaged a deep longing. Descriptors like “mature,” “confident,” “respectable,” “cool” pressed into my mind. The film class provided an opportunity to become that image. Or, so I thought. The occasion, in reality, gave me none of what I anticipated. In fact, at the end of the day, I felt like an impotent child who couldn’t handle any adult stuff. I was nothing close to the coveted image of a suave and urbane man of the world. The experience left enough of a negative impression that I never touched tobacco again. My core longings had not been addressed at all.
Desires often are moving targets. That which I am so sure I want at a certain point in my life can later have little to no appeal. What changes? I don’t think the actual desires shift. But, what I imagine will satisfy that deep yearning can jump all over the place. Smoking a cigar was not what I truly wanted. I had convinced myself, however, that it was going to give me what I longed for, at least for that season of my life.
Read MoreChoosing What I Look Like
It’s been used as a joke, but there are some very funny images to support it as a reality. Do humans often resemble their pets? In attitude and temperament? Even in their looks? It appears that the answer is a strong YES! This phenomenon, particularly with dogs, has actually been studied and photographed multiple times*. The theories vary as to why this seems to be more than a coincidence. But for me, it is obvious. For one, we are attracted to things (and people) who are like us in some way. And for two, we tend to take on the characteristics of those we hang out with most often.
This idea can be seen in couples who have been married for many years. Friends who are constantly together also can begin to take on similarities that they don’t even recognize but are obvious to the outside observer. While my wife and I will be the first to point out all the ways the two of us are different, others see our similarities: our values, our lifestyles, our faith, and even some of our habits and mannerisms. It wasn’t always that way. But having been married for more than 40 years now, it’s fair to say we’ve rubbed off onto each other a bit. And, as for the non-couples out there, just look at social groups from teens on up in age. From hairstyles to clothing choices, to the use of piercings and tattoos, not to mention language and all the other cultural traits. We become more and more like those we open our lives up to.
It’s more than a physical thing
But I can see a spiritual side to this as well. I heard it said many years ago, “You become like whatever you worship.” If that is true, why would it be so?
Read MoreChoosing a Wise King
We have just finished Holy Week, and I am still reflecting on what it all means. Resurrection Sunday morning provides some hearty food for thought, considering that the followers of Christ are promised to one day experience being resurrected with new incorruptible bodies themselves. Good Friday is a bit more challenging. The Cross tends to stir offense or ridicule. But each one of Jesus’ followers have to wrestle with why he had to die a bloody death. What does it mean that Christ died for me? Christ’s death and resurrection have been and always will be the core of the Christian faith. How one responds to them determines what kind of Christ follower a person really is.
But what about that first day of Holy Week? We call it Palm Sunday. It has always been a bit of a mystery to me. Even as a child, I noticed the incongruence of Jesus being hailed the King of the Jews by adulatory crowds on this day only to be arrested, beaten, mocked and killed as a criminal a few days later. Why is recognizing this day significant? Why should we still celebrate it? And what application does it carry for our daily lives today?
Read MoreChoosing to Hate Self-Pity
Ever been treated badly? Abandoned? Insulted? Ignored? Forgotten? Replaced? Taken for granted? Or you just feel like you never get a break? Nothing goes your way?
Join the club!
I have felt the sting (and sometimes the gut-punch) of all these abuses and misfortunes many times over in my lifetime. I haven’t always responded in the healthiest way. Anger, accusation, and resentment have been common. But my favorite go-to for a good portion of my life has been the cuddly-soft emotional blanket of self-pity.
The word “pity” comes from a Latin word that means dutiful respect or devotion. Its roots are closely related to the English word, “piety.” To show pity to others fundamentally refers to ‘dutifully showing respect’ for the pain or suffering of those around us. But when this pity is turned inward, all our attention and energy is ‘dutifully’ applied to the care and comfort of our own wounds and bruised feelings. The more we indulge in this warped type of “self-care,” the more it becomes an engrained pattern. And the less time and energy we have to direct sincere care outwards toward others as well as to respond to what God desires to show us.
Let’s be honest: it’s ugly!
Self-pity is one of those habits that we tend to notice in others before we identify in ourselves. When something goes wrong in a colleague or family member’s life, we see how often they view and verbalize their difficulties as the fault of circumstances and the bad intentions of others. Rarely do they take responsibility. They quickly move into nursing the perspective that such things ought never happen to them (life and God are so unfair). They typically assume they are experiencing worse treatment than anyone around them. This leads to lifting their own “suffering” above the difficulties of others and either minimizing or completely blinding themselves to the pain that those around them are experiencing. Without intervention, these patterns and conclusions become part of a person’s identity.
Don’t you hate it when people have such self-absorbed attitudes?
Read MoreChoosing a Deeper Strength
My desire as a boy was to be strong. Being verbally and physically picked on in elementary school, I became fascinated with the idea of becoming powerful. The longing to demonstrate my strength led to a few fights and endless daydreaming of what that day would feel like when I could show the bullies what I had inside me.
And there were also the models of “manliness” I was exposed to. Athletic coaches were the most influential. They taught me that to get ahead in sports and in the world, I needed to push harder, and do whatever necessary to be better than the person in front of me. Success would come to those who could overpower the next guy. My cumulative adolescent understanding was that strength was proportional to aggression and determination to subdue anyone who stood in my way.
But my feelings of weakness always seemed to be the most powerful things within me. And as a result, I never could sustain any personal campaign of dominance or viewing myself as a conqueror.
And then there was Jesus. I was trained to look to Him as my example, praying to surrender my life to Him when I was a boy. But as I read the Bible stories, I couldn’t escape the feeling that He, as my model, was just as weak as me. Pretty disheartening for a kid trying to figure out the secret of vanquishing abusers and proving to everyone, especially myself, that I wasn’t weak. Jesus, afterall, let Himself be bullied, taught that His followers should “turn the other cheek” when attacked, and eventually gave Himself up to be killed on a cross.
What hope was there for me?
Read MoreChoosing to Honor What is Truly Valuable
I traveled quite a bit when my children were young. I led outreach teams to foreign countries and could be gone for several weeks at a time. We didn’t have a lot of money, and so when it came to bringing gifts home to my kids I had to get creative. For my two young boys, I began to bring them rocks from the different countries I visited.
For one trip, I traveled with a team throughout the North African nation of Tunisia. On one of our days, we toured some of the ruins of Carthage, the ancient enemy of Rome. I don’t know what it is like today, but back when I was there, we were allowed to wander among the crumbling columns dating back 2500 years. With remains of the timeworn pillars lying about on the ground, I picked up several pieces for my return-home gifts.
My boys were delighted (as they had been with all the rocks I had given them from previous travel). They listened to me explain where these had come from, how old these pieces of masonry were, and why they were actually very precious because of the history they represented. A few days later I found out that they had taken their rock collection outside with some friends to “play with.” The stones of ancient Carthage were never seen again. Perhaps one day archeologists will find them and ponder whether Carthaginians might have had an outpost in East Texas.
It’s a difficult task to teach children how to value things that they don’t see immediate value in. Truly, it’s difficult to teach adults that as well.
All for a Bowl of Stew
There’s a story in the Old Testament that illustrates how blind “big kids” can be to the treasures they have right in front of them (Genesis 25:29-34). Esau, son of Isaac and older brother to Jacob is said to have come home from a grueling day in the wilderness. He smelled the stew that his younger brother was making and insisted that he give him some. Jacob, the devious younger brother, agreed on the condition that Esau deliver over to him the birthright that was unique to the oldest son. “I am about to die; of what use is a birthright to me?” he said. He then agreed to his brother’s demands, gobbled down his bowl of lentils, and went on to whatever he was doing next.
A birthright in that culture was a claim to twice the inheritance of all the other siblings. It also carried with it the responsibility of caring for the elderly parents. When Esau surrendered this privilege to his younger brother, two things were likely going on. He possibly thought about the burden it would be to attend to his parents in their old age and didn’t mind letting go of that duty. He had earlier shown a disregard for his father and mother by marrying a local Canaanite girl against their explicit wish. But it is also probable that the double inheritance felt so far away in the future that it held minimal meaning for him in the moment.
After all, he was hungry now.
Read MoreChoosing to Release It
I was deliberately maligned. A ministry co-worker, years ago, told my supervisor that I had screamed at her when she had confronted me. When this was brought to my attention, I knew right away that she was covering for her own bad behavior in that moment. But no one else had been close enough to hear and verify our verbal exchange. I, who had always been so careful to guard my behavior, was being painted as the out-of-control bad guy, and it felt so unfair. Made me angry. But I didn’t know how to defend myself.
The only thing I could do was to act like it didn’t bother me. But in reality, it dug deep into my soul. The more I thought about it (and I rehearsed the scenario uncountable times), the more anger I felt, and the more I couldn’t stand the thought of being around this person. I knew I needed to forgive, but I didn’t feel capable, and I didn’t really want to. It felt so right to be offended by her scheme to justify herself at my expense, and so I let myself fume over the injustice of it all, seeing myself as a martyr – a victim of Christian ministry gone bad. I knew it probably wasn’t right, but I would just keep it to myself and stew on it privately.
Sometime after that (I don’t remember how long), I heard someone talking about having it as his goal to be “unoffendable.” The idea sounded like a fantasy but intriguing. What if I could live in such a way that other people’s issues did not rankle me or negatively affect my choices, the way I lived, and how I related to others?
I no longer believe it is a delusional idea. But it is a matter of taking up forgiveness as a lifestyle. Just as not holding on to an offensive person’s actions or words is a choice, taking up the offense in the first place is also something I choose to do or not do.
Read More
Choose This Day 