I have worked with some people over the years with serious pride issues. Surely you know the type I’m talking about. They see and hear only what they want and leave room for little to no outside input into their work, their projects, their relationships or their lives. They’re blind to everything outside themselves.
Ugh!
I remember one of my very first jobs working as a government employee. My immediate manager was tasked with training me to take over her job before she retired—that was the position I had applied for and what I was hired to do. The problem was, however, that she personally felt (I found out later) that I was being given this position at too young of an age. Afterall, she had had to work her way up over the years through the ranks having started as a janitor. I was a punk kid fresh out of college. So she stalled. I was given meaningless tasks for months but never trained to do any of her job. Many a night I fumed at home over this woman’s arrogance. She thought her personal assessment of me and the situation trumped what I had been hired to do. She was blind to my needs, my abilities, my ambitions and, not least of all, our supervisor’s instructions. And I was being abused in the process. But of course, she thought she knew better. So I quit.
Ouch!
After recalling this little piece of my history, I’m reminded (uncomfortably so) that people who walk in pride typically are very sensitive to and angered by the pride they see in others. They rarely, however, see it in themselves. That doesn’t reflect well on me.
Read More
What is it about children and their selective hearing? They conveniently fail to perceive instructions or warnings they don’t like. But if a parent for some reason does not follow through with something he said he might do, there is a predictable mantra shouted:
“But you promised!”
And it’s that word “promised” that carries the punch. They never say, “You mentioned . . .” or “suggested” or “implied.” They use the most powerful word they know, making it synonymous with a vow, a pledge, a commitment, or a blood oath. It’s all to impose guilt on the parent, of course, as if he is committing a moral sin (and perhaps he is) by not fulfilling what the child expected. And yet we adults are not much different in how we use that word.
Trust Issues
A promise is the assurance given that something is going to happen. And as we get older, it’s typical for us to become cynical about any kind of verbal guarantee. When broken promises become more common than those that are fulfilled in our lives, we lower our expectations. Words become more meaningless. Written contracts become more necessary. Promises made in relationships, politics, and religion become more doubtful.
And we eventually scoff and sneer at the idea that any person can be counted on to keep a promise. The crux of the issue is always the questions surrounding the character and reliability of that “person” making the promise. Is there anyone who is worthy of such trust?
Read More
It hit the airwaves just before I graduated from high school. And though I never absorbed any of the lyrics except the first line, I found myself humming and singing those few words over and over. There was also a movie and TV series that showcased the song.
“Fame! I want to live forever!”
Irene Cara belted it out so effectively at the top of the charts that I didn’t have to see any of the shows to remember it. Afterall, who doesn’t want to be famous, and who doesn’t want to live forever?
Well, it turns out that there are those who don’t want the pressures of fame. Ask celebrities who cannot go out in public without being harassed. And concerning living forever? it depends on who you ask.
What’s so great about a long life?
I recently read a post by a self-proclaimed Gen Z atheist. He was poking fun at how long the Bible claims pre-flood people lived. Methuselah has the biblical record of 969 years. “I’m already bored with this world,” he wrote. “Can you imagine living hundreds of years without the internet or any technology? No thank you.”
While there is much that could be said about this young man’s stereotypical Gen Z dependence on technology to get through any given day, it’s his view of the burdens of a long life that interests me here. It sounds like he might disagree with the song Fame. Living forever without technical support for entertainment sounds miserable, even cruel. If living hundreds of years is intolerable, what would it be like to be immortal?
Yet the search for immortality seems to be as old as humanity’s existence. The Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh is an example of an ancient quest for immortality. The conclusion, of course, is that death is inevitable. But some sort of eternal life can be attained through being remembered by those who are left behind. This is what I assume the song Fame is referring to: I want to be famous for something so that I will live in people’s minds and the stories they tell long after I die.
Read More
I was a child when I remember first hearing the concept of having a “friendship with God.” It provided a welcome relief from the burden of legalism my young perception of religion had pressed on me. But looking back, I now see that this new paradigm also brought a problem. My reference point for “friendship” was rooted in adolescent relationships, which were all focused on what made ME feel good. Thus, while thinking of my connection with God as a friend made Christianity more attractive, it also skewed my image of Him as I viewed our relationship through the fuzzy lens of what’s-in-it-for-me.
Friendships, in my adolescent mind, were supposed to boost MY self-esteem. They were supposed to make ME feel more valuable and less lonely. I was supposed to feel happier, more attractive and always affirmed in MY likes, dislikes and behavior. With the perfect friend at MY side, I imagined MY social awkwardness would disappear; MY shyness around girls would evaporate; I would get more compliments and affirmation. And I would have someone to help ME with MY homework to get straight A’s. The friendship motif was brilliant! Who would not want a relationship like this with God?
A Different Kind
Initially, I felt hopeful. I had found the secret to the good Christian life: walking through this world with God as my Buddy. However, as time went on, I began to experience frustration and disappointment. God didn’t show up as a friend in all the ways I expected. I didn’t always feel happy, and I felt even more socially awkward. Loneliness still haunted me and guilt and shame nipped at my heels. My relationship with God eventually cooled as I began to see Him as not knowing how real friends were supposed to act. He needed to learn a thing or two about how to be there for me when I needed Him.
It was quite a few years later that the truth dawned on me. I had never looked into or thought about God’s understanding of “friendship.” Was it possible that His perspective was different than mine? Was He actually friends with people in the Bible? And if so, were there ground rules? How did they work?
Read More
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 2,500 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.
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.
Read More
I have been a fan of J.R.R. Tolkien’s work for quite a while. Not only do I enjoy reading and rereading his stories of Middle Earth Hobbits, Elves, and Dwarves, but I find snatches of insight about his personal life, faith, and philosophy intriguing and inspiring as well. Recently I read on an online site the following statement: “JRR Tolkien refused to let his books be read out loud to people until after his death, preferring to keep his words ‘on the page.’”
This fascinated me. Since he was a philologist (someone who studies the history of languages), I knew from other reading that Tolkien had picked up some quirks from his studies, particularly from Medieval Norse languages and their accompanying myths. He was fluent in the Anglo-Saxon language, also known as Old English, and studied ancient Finnish. He also strongly disliked allegory and bristled at the suggestion that The Lord of the Rings was a parallel retelling of the first and second world wars. It is even said that he had a near-fanatical love of plant life, refusing to cut down or even prune overgrown trees. He was a creative man of strong and sometimes eccentric opinions.
Thus, this latest anecdote stirred a delighted sense of wonder. What might have been his thought processes motivating such reverence for written words (he was Roman Catholic) that he desired his own to be read silently?
I wanted to know more.
OUCH!
The most interesting thing I ended up learning about this, however, was that it simply was not true. Tolkien never said such a thing. He had no problem with his books being read out loud. I now believe the source I got it from meant the whole thing as a joke.
But why did I find this fabrication so fascinating?
I think its subtle quirkiness made it believable in my mind. I could somehow see such a creative man saying something like this. I knew, after all, that he wasn’t afraid to consider things that flowed against the popular current. Yes, this particular view was very odd. But it felt true. There was part of me that actually wanted it to be real.
I have often heard it said that a good lie is 90% truth. Lies aren’t useful if they’re not believable and at least somewhat attractive.
And so, I’m once again pondering the nature of deception.
Read More
In the movies it always looked so easy and inconsequential. As a kid, I watched shows where chairs were busted over heads in barroom fights, the recipient merely staggering a few paces before flinging his opponent through a wooden railing. In addition, there were the scenes where a medium-built man kicked a front door wide open. And he never walked with a limp afterwards or stopped to rub the jolted knee or hip joint. Power. It all seemed impressively real until the day I picked up a chair in anger to throw at my brother. Besides being too heavy (fortunately) to lift above my head to toss, I was instantly sobered with the realization that if the chair did break apart on his head, it would likely kill him. I didn’t even have to experiment to realize that it would take someone with a lot more strength than me to pop a solid-oak door off its hinges with one swing of the leg.
And yet there is someone with “door-busting” abilities that we should all take notice of.
Jesus began His earthly ministry overpowering (or “kicking down”) obstacles that were raised against Him and His purposes. He ordered demonic interference to be silent and flee. He commanded stormy wind and water to be calm, unfruitful trees to wither, diseases to leave human bodies, and corpses to come back to life. No human had ever displayed such might over nature, physical ailments, spiritual darkness, and death. Nothing could stand in His way. Truly, He was the archetype man of the movies that caught my imagination as a kid, a real hero! He could not be stopped, no matter what was thrown at Him, no matter the barrier in front of Him. Nothing resisted His will . . . except for one thing.
Read More
No matter how hard I try, why are some things so difficult to resist? Overeating? Harsh responses to those who correct me? Anxiety about the future? I know how I should respond, what I’m supposed to do, and what I ought to feel. But that rarely gives me what I need to actually do it and never provides what is necessary to truly feel it. No matter what they say, will power alone does not have what it takes to change me and keep me strong against all the types of temptation that push on me.
A 15th Century German-Dutch follower of Jesus named Thomas á Kempis wrote, “The beginning of all evil temptations is a mind not firmly fixed on its purpose…”* I have pondered what this means for quite a while now, and I think Brother Thomas has something to teach us. The understanding of my purpose is rooted in the understanding of my identity. Who and what I believe myself to be forms the foundation for all that I do and why I do it. Meaning for my life is revealed as I discover who I truly am.
But to make it a bit more complex, it’s not just what I believe about my purpose and identity that is key. The essential point is that these beliefs are what motivate me and they, in turn, shape me. I act according to who and what I interpret myself to be. My identity informs all that I do. How I view myself and my purpose then becomes that which determines how I make all my life decisions. Depending on how I understand my identity, this process either leads to greater hope in life or takes me down a dark and endless hole.
What’s the Connection?
So, what might be the relationship between temptation and what I believe about myself and my purpose? I now understand that what I most identify with is what makes up the blueprint of the desires and feelings I submit to, as well as those I resist. If I see myself fundamentally as someone suffering because of my environment and other people’s choices over which I have no control, I will find it difficult to resist the temptation to see myself as a victim. And I will more easily submit to resentment and bitterness, feeling stuck, like I have no other choice.
Read More