For too long, I've let my identity be imprisoned by my circumstances. I chose whether or not I have hope based on the very circumstances that having hope will change.
How do I be a man who affects his circumstances more than they affect him?
I think I have to see a greater reality and I have to chose to be influenced by that reality. That is when I claim the identity of who I am. It's when I live out my choice even when my circumstances give me reason not to.
I constantly see that great displays of God's ambition begin with trusting him in ways that don't make sense. Choosing to worship even when I have reason not to sets my emotions, identity and life free from being governed by what's going on around me.
So if I want to see God on display in my life, maybe I just need to find the places where I have reason to not trust him and do it anyway. In the process I just may step into worship as an identity rather than a set of songs.
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
5. Your bike has more talent than you do... So does God.
What I've learned about life, riding a motorcycle:
5. Your bike has more talent than you do.
The bike can handle more of what you come across than your survival instincts can stay calm through, and your survival instincts will put you down. Get out of it's way and let the bike carry you through the moments you want to panic.
The concept of being born again is difficult to deal with, until I realize that God has more talent than I do.
When I stop trying to do it right and just offer him the dark corners of my heart, abandoning my survival instincts and defenses around insecurities, he starts healing and bringing my heart to life.
It's something that can only be described as being born again.
5. Your bike has more talent than you do.
The bike can handle more of what you come across than your survival instincts can stay calm through, and your survival instincts will put you down. Get out of it's way and let the bike carry you through the moments you want to panic.
The concept of being born again is difficult to deal with, until I realize that God has more talent than I do.
When I stop trying to do it right and just offer him the dark corners of my heart, abandoning my survival instincts and defenses around insecurities, he starts healing and bringing my heart to life.
It's something that can only be described as being born again.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
It's not what I do for, but what I'm willing to receive from God...
In my life as a believer, my maturity is measured not by what I do for God, but what I'm willing to receive from him.
There are so many good things that I do, and might even do well, that have begun to corrupt my heart. The problem isn't in what I'm doing but that I began looking to what I'm doing to give me my sense of value or significance. The more I do this, the more I think that my value is found in my doing those things and inevitably that outside of those things I'm not valuable.
I've been realizing recently how much I celebrate the version of me that I think is more valuable, lovable and worthy of attention. In the process of longing to become that version I've revoked the invitation for the imperfect version to be celebrated and even at times the right exist.
The big problem is that in ministry, relationships and life I brought with me the man of accomplishment and achievement... the man that I created. I had decided that the man outside of those things wasn't worth seeing and wasn't worth loving. I'd decided that the man God created just wasn't quite enough.
So in the midst of doing, my heart was withering.
I've had moments over the past month when people in my life have demanded the imperfect version of me to come out. I was amazed at what happened in those moments. Some of the moments were met with acceptance from people and others with rejection. But that wasn't what was amazing. It was God's response that amazed me. As soon as I brought the "imperfect' version into the light he began to heal things, restore things and bring parts of my heart to life.
He really was serious when he said to know Him we must be born again. Because being born again seems to simply be to trust him with the truth of who we are and watch him bring whom he created to life. When I brought Him the version of myself that I'd decided wasn't enough and discovered that that version was fully loved, my sense of significance found a new well to draw from.
In the moments when I receive my sense of value and significance from the one that "knows me best and loves me most" I become born again, free to live, free to breathe... free to let the seed become a tree.
There are so many good things that I do, and might even do well, that have begun to corrupt my heart. The problem isn't in what I'm doing but that I began looking to what I'm doing to give me my sense of value or significance. The more I do this, the more I think that my value is found in my doing those things and inevitably that outside of those things I'm not valuable.
I've been realizing recently how much I celebrate the version of me that I think is more valuable, lovable and worthy of attention. In the process of longing to become that version I've revoked the invitation for the imperfect version to be celebrated and even at times the right exist.
The big problem is that in ministry, relationships and life I brought with me the man of accomplishment and achievement... the man that I created. I had decided that the man outside of those things wasn't worth seeing and wasn't worth loving. I'd decided that the man God created just wasn't quite enough.
So in the midst of doing, my heart was withering.
I've had moments over the past month when people in my life have demanded the imperfect version of me to come out. I was amazed at what happened in those moments. Some of the moments were met with acceptance from people and others with rejection. But that wasn't what was amazing. It was God's response that amazed me. As soon as I brought the "imperfect' version into the light he began to heal things, restore things and bring parts of my heart to life.
He really was serious when he said to know Him we must be born again. Because being born again seems to simply be to trust him with the truth of who we are and watch him bring whom he created to life. When I brought Him the version of myself that I'd decided wasn't enough and discovered that that version was fully loved, my sense of significance found a new well to draw from.
In the moments when I receive my sense of value and significance from the one that "knows me best and loves me most" I become born again, free to live, free to breathe... free to let the seed become a tree.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
4. You're already part of a community.
What I've learned about life, riding a motorcycle (and sleeping on skid row):
4. You're already part of a community, it's worth taking time to discover that.
You'll learn a lot from them and they will pass on the mistakes that you don't have to make.
If we become the people we are through other people then the limit of my wisdom is defined by my eagerness to learn from the people in my life.
I lived on skid row for a week, to learn from people that I usually don't think of as the people in my life...
One man had been on the row for a while. Much of his world was defined by his drinking. What he did, why he would do it and his daily routine was highly influenced by his drinking. Even his sense of self, perception of what he was capable of and his sense of value was defined by him being a "drinker". He was on Skid Row because of his drinking.
His wife and family wanted him to come home, but the shame he carried over himself was bearable only if he kept it to himself, so he thought. His fear of someone else agreeing with his shame was so great that it held him to the streets.
After a very simple conversation, a very short prayer and a very powerful hug, Morris decided to go home. There was something very powerful about being in relationship that night. In a moment when someone else saw him at his ugliest and chose to love him, shame was revealed to be a lie.
It was the day after his 53rd birthday. He realized that he was 20 years older than me and thinking that I was on the streets too, our conversation ended like this:
"Don't end up like me."
"I'll need you to teach me."
"Then watch, I won't be here tomorrow."
I don't know what happened to Morris. I didn't see him again, but am aware of the realities that he faces in a process of transition. I hope he went home. Whether he did or not, I need to learn from him.
Shame is a prison we lock ourselves into. It isolates us and removes us from the relationships that actually bring change in our lives.
4. You're already part of a community, it's worth taking time to discover that.
You'll learn a lot from them and they will pass on the mistakes that you don't have to make.
If we become the people we are through other people then the limit of my wisdom is defined by my eagerness to learn from the people in my life.
I lived on skid row for a week, to learn from people that I usually don't think of as the people in my life...
One man had been on the row for a while. Much of his world was defined by his drinking. What he did, why he would do it and his daily routine was highly influenced by his drinking. Even his sense of self, perception of what he was capable of and his sense of value was defined by him being a "drinker". He was on Skid Row because of his drinking.
His wife and family wanted him to come home, but the shame he carried over himself was bearable only if he kept it to himself, so he thought. His fear of someone else agreeing with his shame was so great that it held him to the streets.
After a very simple conversation, a very short prayer and a very powerful hug, Morris decided to go home. There was something very powerful about being in relationship that night. In a moment when someone else saw him at his ugliest and chose to love him, shame was revealed to be a lie.
It was the day after his 53rd birthday. He realized that he was 20 years older than me and thinking that I was on the streets too, our conversation ended like this:
"Don't end up like me."
"I'll need you to teach me."
"Then watch, I won't be here tomorrow."
I don't know what happened to Morris. I didn't see him again, but am aware of the realities that he faces in a process of transition. I hope he went home. Whether he did or not, I need to learn from him.
Shame is a prison we lock ourselves into. It isolates us and removes us from the relationships that actually bring change in our lives.
Monday, June 18, 2012
3. Ride often
What I've learned about life, riding a motorcycle:
3. Ride often
You are safest when your comfortable and familiar with the bike. Your survival instincts are your worst enemy on a bike, so get very comfortable with it.
In life, expertise is as inevitable as the progression of time (excellence is not). I choose what I become an expert in and what I am a novice in by choosing what I spend my time on.
If I claim to be a believer and yet do not really believe what God said nor believe that He's worth spending time with, the tragedy is not that I've fooled others, but that I've fooled myself into thinking I'm actually a believer when I really just put my attention on the world around me.
You are safest when your comfortable and familiar with the bike. Your survival instincts are your worst enemy on a bike, so get very comfortable with it.
In life, expertise is as inevitable as the progression of time (excellence is not). I choose what I become an expert in and what I am a novice in by choosing what I spend my time on.
If I claim to be a believer and yet do not really believe what God said nor believe that He's worth spending time with, the tragedy is not that I've fooled others, but that I've fooled myself into thinking I'm actually a believer when I really just put my attention on the world around me.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
2. No one will see you... and that's ok
What I've learned about life, riding a motorcycle:
2. No one will see you, so don't assume that you're safe because they know you're there.
It's interesting to me how much of my sense of security is rested on the assumption that others see me. There's a healthy awareness of our affect on the people around us, but if I am relying on others' awareness of me for my safety or sense of security, I'm putting my future in their hands.
In life, if I am waiting for my life/work/ministry to be seen and validated by others, my future is directly reliant on them: their awareness, ability to respond and do so in a healthy way... That probably isn't gonna happen.
When I exist in an assumption that "the opportunity will come through him/her", I exist in a dependency that limits my world to the capability of someone else to include, affirm and empower.
One of the greatest lies that I sometimes believe is that my life is dependent on another's validation of it. If I behave as if someone else will provide my role for me, I am behaving with a faulty assumption that they have the ability to give me what I'm really looking for... my significance.
The truth is, the world is waiting for us to discover significance for ourselves and become an active participant.
2. No one will see you, so don't assume that you're safe because they know you're there.
It's interesting to me how much of my sense of security is rested on the assumption that others see me. There's a healthy awareness of our affect on the people around us, but if I am relying on others' awareness of me for my safety or sense of security, I'm putting my future in their hands.
In life, if I am waiting for my life/work/ministry to be seen and validated by others, my future is directly reliant on them: their awareness, ability to respond and do so in a healthy way... That probably isn't gonna happen.
When I exist in an assumption that "the opportunity will come through him/her", I exist in a dependency that limits my world to the capability of someone else to include, affirm and empower.
One of the greatest lies that I sometimes believe is that my life is dependent on another's validation of it. If I behave as if someone else will provide my role for me, I am behaving with a faulty assumption that they have the ability to give me what I'm really looking for... my significance.
The truth is, the world is waiting for us to discover significance for ourselves and become an active participant.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
1. You go where you look.
What I've learned about life, riding a motorcycle:
1. You go where you look.
Where ever you're looking, the bike will follow. So, when there is a hazard in the road, don't put your attention on the hazard, look your way through it. Also keep your attention up, not right in front of you. It's interesting how much it affects the ride.
When taking a tight turn on a bike, the rider has to look to the exit of the turn, not the place in the road that he's currently on. This will bring the bike smoothly through the turn. If you get stuck in a challenging turn, just look your way through it. It's amazing how often it's the make or break factor in surviving a hard turn.
This is true for every turn.
Sometimes, in the canyons, I've got a mountain keeping me from seeing the exit of the turn. But the reality of what is helpful still remains, even if I've got reasons for why I shouldn't do it. To pull through the turn smoothly, quickly and safely I have to look through the mountain at what I can not yet see... at what is not yet there.
In life, I will go where I look. I'll get closer to and act more like the things I put my attention on.
When the road is challenging, putting my attention on the exit- what I want to accomplish in the season; who I want to become through the opportunity will often be what pulls me through well.
And sometimes, I will have to see what is not yet there. If I can see what I am yet to create, it will make the small decisions along the way very easy. If I can look at the person that I will soon become it is as inevitable that I will get closer to that man as it is that time will pass.
1. You go where you look.
Where ever you're looking, the bike will follow. So, when there is a hazard in the road, don't put your attention on the hazard, look your way through it. Also keep your attention up, not right in front of you. It's interesting how much it affects the ride.
When taking a tight turn on a bike, the rider has to look to the exit of the turn, not the place in the road that he's currently on. This will bring the bike smoothly through the turn. If you get stuck in a challenging turn, just look your way through it. It's amazing how often it's the make or break factor in surviving a hard turn.
This is true for every turn.Sometimes, in the canyons, I've got a mountain keeping me from seeing the exit of the turn. But the reality of what is helpful still remains, even if I've got reasons for why I shouldn't do it. To pull through the turn smoothly, quickly and safely I have to look through the mountain at what I can not yet see... at what is not yet there.
In life, I will go where I look. I'll get closer to and act more like the things I put my attention on.
When the road is challenging, putting my attention on the exit- what I want to accomplish in the season; who I want to become through the opportunity will often be what pulls me through well.
And sometimes, I will have to see what is not yet there. If I can see what I am yet to create, it will make the small decisions along the way very easy. If I can look at the person that I will soon become it is as inevitable that I will get closer to that man as it is that time will pass.
Friday, February 3, 2012
How I've become me.
I really liked Last Samurai! One of the moments I loved was when Algren was in the middle of a tantrum about being held captive in the village. Katsumoto explains to him that the winter has the passes closed and reveals something brilliant: "Till then you are here..."
When my life takes a turn for the unexpected and unplanned I often throw a tantrum and ask that question, "What's wrong with me?" but rarely does anything good come out of it.
The better question to ask might come from that perspective, "Till then, I am here..."
Maybe in this season, while I remain in circumstances that I hadn't hoped for, I can ask:
What do I want to get out of this season?
Who do I want to become through this?
I've learned that we tend to become more like the things/ones we focus on. There is an incredible glory in the place where we currently are. Will I be aware of it or be too focused on myself and my circumstances to ever see it, much less ever be affected by it..?
Through this season of captivity (a bit dramatic but it's certainly how it feels) that goes now on 3 years, I can easily say that I know and love Jesus in ways I never have before; know and enjoy who I am in ways I never have before... But it took a season of "till then you are here" to become that man.
"A time will come when I will celebrate your rescue, but till then I will simply trust your nature." -Psalms 13
When my life takes a turn for the unexpected and unplanned I often throw a tantrum and ask that question, "What's wrong with me?" but rarely does anything good come out of it.
The better question to ask might come from that perspective, "Till then, I am here..."
Maybe in this season, while I remain in circumstances that I hadn't hoped for, I can ask:
What do I want to get out of this season?Who do I want to become through this?
I've learned that we tend to become more like the things/ones we focus on. There is an incredible glory in the place where we currently are. Will I be aware of it or be too focused on myself and my circumstances to ever see it, much less ever be affected by it..?
Through this season of captivity (a bit dramatic but it's certainly how it feels) that goes now on 3 years, I can easily say that I know and love Jesus in ways I never have before; know and enjoy who I am in ways I never have before... But it took a season of "till then you are here" to become that man.
"A time will come when I will celebrate your rescue, but till then I will simply trust your nature." -Psalms 13
Saturday, January 21, 2012
It's really a stupid question.
A question that I tend to ask myself is, "what's wrong with me?"
Every time I ask that question I am able to come up with an answer... sometimes a lot of answers. The interesting thing is that those answers have almost never helped me.
It makes me think there might be a better question to ask...
Every time I ask that question I am able to come up with an answer... sometimes a lot of answers. The interesting thing is that those answers have almost never helped me.
It makes me think there might be a better question to ask...
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