Slowing down

I downshifted into second gear while maneuvering my ’93 Accord through a crowded parking lot. 10:33 am, the dashboard clock read—and I am late for my interview! With the AC on its way out and August on its way in, I could feel my already overactive armpits sweating like the unopened can wedged between the car seat and the emergency break. Staring at the gleaming green container as I shut the car door, I realized that I forgot to drink the potion (meant for energy and mental sharpening) that had stalled me at the gas station and brought on this tempestuous tardiness.

At any rate, I was 6 minutes late by the time I opened the mirrored office door, noticing as I entered, enormous sweat stains localized like targets under each of my arms. I held the door for a moment or two, pondering whether or not to just turn around and go home. I didn’t. I didn’t get the job either, but after experiencing many such stress-filled days, when the earth and sky and… well, the traffic lights appeared to be conspiring against me, I have learned a thing or two about better living.

Number one: Slow down. I know this advice is counter-intuitive when you’re running late for work, church or an important engagement, but life is too short to be rushing around, here and there, like a man on the run, ever chasing or fleeing something that can never quite be caught or eluded.

Listen to the words of the Psalmist:
“Oh LORD, make me know my end and what is the measure of my days; Let me know how fleeting I am…Surely man goes about as a shadow! Surely for nothing they are in turmoil” (Ps 39:4,6a).

Life is short, and the sooner we come to understand this, the sooner our “turmoil” will cease. After all, much for which we toil isn’t all that important in the grand scope of things. Think of those who have been diagnosed with a terminal illness or who have had near death experiences—suddenly their priorities change, and that for which they had been striving, and about which they had been stressing suddenly pales in comparison to the simpler, more important things of life like faith, family, and friends. But even the value of our faith and the quality of our relationships are diminished when we don’t slow down enough to enjoy them.

As we traveled to church one Sunday morning my wife and I quibbled over who was responsible for our late start. The truth is that we are both chronically tardy, and we both, probably, contributed equally to our predicament. But as I pulled up to red light after red light, I could feel my blood pressure rise and my heart rate increase—this Sunday, which was designed as a day of rest, was fast becoming a time of tension. By the time we made it to church I was angry and in no mood to “offer sacrifices of praise.” This scenario has repeated itself more often than I’d like to admit. I’ve finally resigned myself to stop trying to beat the clock on Sunday morning. The chase isn’t worth it, because even if we make it on time, I lose the more important race that revolves around relationships.

This brings us to the second lesson for better living: enjoy life. I’m not advocating hedonism here, but I am suggesting that after we consider our “fleeting” nature and determine who and what are important in life, then we should rearrange our schedules, push things off our plates, and take the time to enjoy the true blessings that God has given us.

So, when you bomb a presentation, miss out on a promotion, or arrive conspicuously late to an interview (with sweat stains and all), try to keep it all in perspective. These are the fleeting details of life that must play second fiddle to the main show—a loving relationship with our Lord and loved ones. So, slow down… would ya?

Via Media

I ran this evening. 5 miles. In the cold. In a ditch. Well, sort of in a ditch. I bought some new trail shoes recently, and so I try to run off road whenever possible. There was a significant section of my run today where I ran in a very shallow grassy drainage area. It made the run more difficult, but it also made it much more interesting, and, in fact, I think the challenge seemed to make it go by faster. To the right of me was a very busy road filled with oncoming traffic. To the left of me was an empty paved biking/runninng/walking trail. And there I was in between them, dodging trees and culverts, running up one side for a minute then down into to the middle flat where the grass would sink a bit more than the higher ground. It was a good time... very rewarding.

Often the "middle way" has mistakenly been seen as the easy way, or the way of one who won't choose a side. But I think the middle way, like my run today, is actually the harder route, and, in fact, the more truthful one. How so? Well, the one who runs the ditch acknowledges the terrain and accounts for it accordingly. This one must see and experience the changing world around him and be ready to identify and coherently communicate truth and goodness in the midst of it.
This via media mindset calls a spade a spade regardless of what side of the table it's dealt from. This is not neutrality, it's truth-ality. To avoid partisanship - in politics, theology, family relations, etc - one must be dedicated to the truth. And this is what ditch running is all about.

Now, we're not talking about the supercilious scientist who thinks the only way to acquire truth is by way of empirical methodology. Nor are we referring to the Pentecostal pastor who says you have to believe because "I said it." (Both of these men, or types of men, have a lot in common actually). No... ditch running requires more than that. It demands an epistemology with more breadth than either of these perspectives. The existential, the situational, and the normative all come to bear for the one who dedicates himself to the pursuit of truth and goodness.

As a result, the paved path is eliminated as an option. While it may be the easier route, the one we're used to, perhaps the perspective we've grown up with and have more inclination toward, its answers are grounded in a system that refuses to acknowledge the complexities of life and truth. Simply said, there is no gray area for those who run this path. It's all black and white. But the road can't be an option either. Those who run it refuse to acknowledge that the road they're on will lead to death. They're skeptical about the oncoming traffic and downright disgusted by those who walk the paved path. Everything is gray for them.

The ditch runner, on the other hand, runs the path of most resistance and takes flack from both sides for not joining them on the pavement or asphalt. Tension is not easy, but it reveals truth which is ultimately more rewarding than the alternatives. I say run the ditch… but be sure you have some good trail shoes!

New Year's resolution revolution... part 2

The reason, however, I believe that we fail so miserably and consistently is that these efforts are seated solely in our own will; in our ability to somehow pick ourselves up by our bootstraps and make it happen. While it may work at times for some, a holistic standard that addresses all areas that need improvement is quite obviously unattainable. To recognize this is a serious stride in personal growth because, in fact, through this revelation we’ve brushed against the glass ceiling of the divine. If we acknowledge that there is a standard for which we strive that surpasses our ability to attain, then we admit through our conception of that standard and our desire to achieve it that there is a “good” beyond us. Yet our longings for change testify that it should be in us

There is a need then to recognize the futility of our effort. This does not, however, mean abandoning the attempt. It means rather moving beyond our individualistic and godless paradigm when scribbling down the ‘to-do’s and the ‘to-don’t’s come January 2nd. There is a paradox of sorts in Christianity which demonstrates how acknowledged weakness leads to strength. A verse from the first epistle to the Corinthians in the New Testament beautifully illustrates this paradox. It says, “But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” This metaphor points to us, our bodies as the empty vessels, yet calling them treasures. Why? Because through the recognition of our own emptiness, we come to realize our purpose – to be filled with the all surpassing power of God. The good that was beyond us fills us and satisfies the deepest standard for which we strive. Of course, it takes a long time (perhaps a lifetime) to fully realize the implications of such a union. But perhaps finding another unused schedule or list will be a good reminder.

New years’ resolution revolution...part 1

I have a new schedule for my life. You know the kind – those hour by hour to do lists created in an excel worksheet (in a momentary lapse of realism), printed up and pinned up in a prominent place where you’ll be reminded daily of your new year’s plagues… or pledges rather. Mine has me getting up 6am every morning. It’s now sitting sadly (or to my wife, humorously) on my dresser, reminding me daily how I fail at achieving my new standards of discipline. It was doomed before it was conceived really. My wife knows this, and that is why she finds it funny. She’s found them all over the place: in the junk drawer, in a file on my computer, in my desk, and yes, initially on the dresser or stuck to the refrigerator. I’m sure I create a new one at least twice a year. I know better than to label these schedules (or lists) “new year’s resolutions”, but inevitably one of the editions comes out some time in January.

Why is that? From whence comes the impulse every new year to make another list that will almost certainly follow the fate of the previous twenty as fuel for the furnace of our guilt or inadequacy? Despite my harsh assessment, I propose a noble intent – the desire for transformation. We all want to change. We want to dump the old bad habits and pick up new good ones. By coming up with new year’s resolutions, we admit that we regularly fall short of the standards that we’ve seemingly set for ourselves. We admit that there is a greater good that we are struggling to attain...