Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Stay in the boat and persevere


"Getting into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, he asked him to put out a little from the land. And he sat down and taught the people from the boat.  And when he had ceased speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep and let down your nets for a catch.”  And Simon answered, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets.”  And when they had done this, they enclosed a great shoal of fish; and as their nets were breaking,  they beckoned to their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both the boats, so that they began to sink."   Luke 5: 3-8

I see some parallels in this story to the Wedding Feast at Cana.  Simon has poured out all his resources, all night.  He is tired, frustrated and worn out.  Catching fish is his livelihood, his talent, his way in the world.  And it isn't working.  He is ready to give up (at least for the day).  And right here, at the end of what he can do, he encounters Christ. 

And Jesus says, "Do it again; this time, lower your nets with Me in the boat."

If I were Simon, I would be annoyed.  Who is this guy?  Why does he think this time will be any different?  Does he not realize that I have done the best I can with what I have? 

I have hit this wall in many situations.  But I usually am not ready to give up.  I usually just try harder, or keep doing the same things that aren't working, hoping for a better result. 

In this passage, I hear an invitation to let go of focusing on what my abilities and efforts can achieve, and to open myself in trust to what God wants to achieve in me. 

Sometimes you work so hard and get nothing.

Sometimes, suddenly everything falls into place with very little effort on your part. 

This is how it works for Simon.  And yet,  his work in both cases is the same - lowering the nets for a catch. 

What is that daily work? Maybe it is preparing lesson plans each day.  Changing diapers and keeping kids fed.  Performing on a stage.  Preparing invoices.

Showing up every day, we do the work in front of us.  Some days we will see fruit.  Others we won't.  But we stay in the boat and persevere. 


Sunday, May 12, 2013

What a trip to Arby's taught me

I had made plans one day recently to go home after work and cook a really delicious meal, something like this:

But then, I was kept late at work.  By the time I was finally done, I was starving and in no mood to wait the necessary time for this meal to cook.  I was really tempted to run over to Arby's, and just get this: 


In the moment, Arby's seemed like a better choice - hunger alleviated much faster.  But later, I regretted not waiting a little longer for the more wholesome, delicious and nourishing food.  Not only did I have hundreds of calories on my conscience, but the food just wasn't as great. 

It made me realize that there are many times in my life where the Arby's dilemma presents itself: do I want immediate gratification, with its instant highs but usually later regrets,  or delayed joy, paved with some self-denial and possibly suffering?  Of course, in the moment, I am usually blind to the fact that the options are this clear-cut.

*Do I want to waste 20 minutes on facebook or take 20 minutes to write someone a letter?

*Do I want to sit glazed in front of the television or invest in a good book?

*Do I want to take the time to go out and meet new people, or stay in my comfortable introvert shell? 

*Do I want to pursue the discpline of eating healthily, or just seek foods that fit the appetite of the moment?

And sometimes, the questions are bigger.  Do I want to invest time and energy in a career that I am not suited to? Do I want to choose a relationship that isn't quite right instead of waiting for one that is? 

In many areas of life, I am finding that convenience and immediacy have been ruling me, and offering quick fixes and band-aids, when instead, I want to make decisions that are truly and 100% mine. 

Sometimes (and more often than not) waiting is worth it. 

Tuesday, May 7, 2013

How Our Expectations Blind Us


 
I've been learning a lot about blindness lately. 

I read a lot of books (mostly fiction), and I'm used to the common order of things: introduction, struggle, conclusion.  I collect the stories and experiences of others.  Often I look to those stories to try to determine "what story I am in." Like Will Farrell's charcter in Stranger than Fiction, I am often wondering if the story I am in is a comedy or a tragedy. 

As I predict the likely outcomes, trying to prepare myself either for great joy or sorrow, I realize that many times throughout the journey, I've been blind to what God is actually doing.  My expectations have blinded me.  God might be right there, walking with me, but if I am not expecting Him in that way, through that person, in that media, I can often miss Him. 

Here are some Scripture stories that clued me in to expectation - blindness:
 

The Road to Emmaus

The disciples were blind to Jesus because it was so clear that he had died.  They were so convinced of His death, that they could not possibly expect to see Him alive, even though He was there in front of their eyes, there was a block there until He broke through it.  They were also blind to the meaning of Scripture, the meaning of events.  What they interpreted as a bad happening had another meaning, which in their grief they were unable to see until Jesus revealed it to them. 


The Scourging of the Pillar

The crowd was also blind.  They were not expecting the King to be Jesus and do what Jesus did.  Their expectations for how the prophecy would be revealed blinded them, so that when the King himself was before them, they could not recognize Him. 
 
 

Finding Jesus in the Temple

Mary and Joseph were frantic.  Here they had been entrusted with the care of Jesus, and at only 12 years, he had been lost.  Now what? I have no idea what they were actually thinking, but if it had been me, I would have thought, "Great, now I ruined everything through my personal failures."  Here is where sometimes we can be blind to God's work because of how we see ourselves.  Maybe we think we are too responsible or important and can mess up God's work singlehandedly.  Maybe we have a heightened sense of shame or lack self-worth, so that we cannot see how He wants us to use our gifts.  In the end, Jesus is safe and sound in the Temple.  Mary and Joseph are reminded of the truth - they might be cooperating with God, but it is God's work, and He cannot mess it up. 

 
 
 

The Visitation of Mary to Elizabeth

Mary accepted the prophecy very against normal expectations.  Because she allowed her vision to be determined through God, she responded without blindness.  After being told she was going to be the Son of God out of wedlock, the normal fears about possible stoning, scandal, and even jeopardizing of her life and Jesus' life, were not at the forefront of her mind.  Instead, her first consideration was Elizabeth, and how to help her in her pregnancy.  
 
 


Thursday, May 2, 2013

What Does Packaging say about the Gift?



I just recalled this memory today.  I was at a classmate's tenth birthday party, and we were doing a scavenger hunt to find her biggest birthday present.  We finally made it out to the garage for the last clue, and everyone was looking.  I saw something covered by a big dust cloth, and peaked under.  "Oh, it's just a bike," I said. 

"A bike!?!?" shouted my friend, and everyone crowded around me.  Yep, sure enough, that was her gift.

I didn't recognize the gift because of the packaging.  It didn't look like a gift.  It was covered in a dustcloth. 

For some reason, I expect all the gifts in my life to be packaged and clearly marked (in a metaphorical way, of course).  Sometimes I guess I hope God will say, "Take this job offer, it is going to lead to your wildest dreams!" or "This is THE ONE!"

But there are so many times in life that we are receiving big gifts without even knowing it.  They are not packaged in huge, momentous ways.  There is no theme music. 

I don't remember the day I met most of my best friends, for instance.  What a gift they have each been in my life, and yet I didn't see that at the time.  An inconsequential, well-timed conversation with a professor caused me to uproot my entire life and move to St. Paul.  That was a life-changing gift, and I did not recognize it in the moment.  A simple email asking for piano lessons turned into the tremendous gift of graduate school on a tuition waiver.

Then there are the gifts packaged as evils.  Right now, since moving to a new city, I notice that I feel lonely A LOT.  It takes time to build new friendships and feel connected to others in a meaningful way.  But I see that loneliness is also a gift.  It has caused me to be more aware of others around me.  It has forced me to break through my reserve and reach out to others.  It has caused me to be more self-aware. 

Sometimes I ask God for a SIGN.  Something clear.  So why are many of His gifts hidden under a dustcloth?  Why are they packaged so ordinarily, so that they fit into life's fabric without showing their value? 

Maybe the lack of clear packaging is also a gift.  It causes me to work a little harder at practicing gratitude.  It causes me to open my eyes a little more and to learn to be thankful for everything I encounter, whatever its appearance.