I'm Nobody! Who are you?

(The Loser, Part II)
By: Emily Dickenson

I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you -- Nobody -- Too?
Then there's a pair of us -- don't tell!
They'd advertise -- you know!

How dreary -- to be -- Somebody!
How public -- like a Frog --
To tell one's name -- the livelong June --
To an admiring Bog!

The Loser

I was rocking out to Switchfoot today on my way home from driving a friend to his house. Switchfoot rocks. Hence me rocking out to their music. Anyways, there I was driving along when the guys start into a song with a groovy riff at the beginning of it. I start into that head groove bounce thing that lets people know I'm way cool enough to be "feeling" the music, but I'm definitely not a wierdo-idiot-moron-loser kid flailing his hands in the air wildly. I'm too cool for that. Jon Foreman starts to sing:

"Only the losers win / They've got nothing to prove / They'll leave the world with nothing to lose / You can laugh at the weirdos now / Wait till wrongs are right / They'll be the ones with nothing to hide"

So if the losers are winners, what does that make the cool kids? The superstars? The popular ones? The ones with all the fans? I think most people with any religious affiliation whatsoever are familiar with the Bible verse that says not to store up treasures on earth, so that when you get to eternity (which, as a side note, I don't believe you "get to eternity" . . . more on that later) you will have everlasting treasures.

I think there is another aspect to this concept though. Storing up treasures in heaven is a very abstract concept. Most things about God are very abstract. If they weren't, God wouldn't be God. If we understood God completely, He would not by so . . . mystical. All that to say, I believe God stuck another, more concrete aspect on to this concept of not making yourself so cool now that you can't be cool later. Of course in eternity there is no "later." But that's beside the point.

About three paragraphs into writing this, my dad called us all to a devotional time. I was hesitant to go. I was really having a great time blogging. But off I went, cause dad is dad, and dad knows best. Turns out, he often does. Anyways, we settled in on the tree and the chaff in Psalm 1. The whole chapter is not long; I'll put it down here.

1 Blessed is the man
who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked
or stand in the way of sinners
or sit in the seat of mockers.

2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD,
and on his law he meditates day and night.

3 He is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither.
Whatever he does prospers.

4 Not so the wicked!
They are like chaff
that the wind blows away.

5 Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment,
nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.

6 For the LORD watches over the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked will perish.

I didn't know what chaff was. I looked it up. In case anyone else is as oblivious as I, chaff is what covers the seed in fast growing grains such as wheat and barley. (During devotions I pretended to know what it was so that I could remain an intelligent component in the conversation. I recently had it impressed upon me that this is a bad idea. Wisdom asks. That came from dad.) So dad told us about how trees grow slowly, but they grow to be massive, powerful, fruitful things. And trees never stop growing. Chaff on the other hand, springs up in less than a year, but is thrown away at harvest time.

We were made to be trees. We weren't made for instant fame. Almost every person out of high school that I've talked to about the subject has said that the cool kids in high school are the losers now. Either that or they're just never heard from again. Losers only have one direction to go. When you're at the bottom, there's not much that can pull you down any farther. And loser is a partial word. No loser is a loser at everything. This is also the same for winners, in an opposite sense. No winner is a winner at everything. Nobody's perfect. And there's always somebody better.

"When someone invites you to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor, for a person more distinguished than you may have been invited. If so, the host who invited both of you will come and say to you, 'Give this man your seat.' Then, humiliated, you will have to take the least important place. But when you are invited, take the lowest place, so that when your host comes, he will say to you, 'Friend, move up to a better place.' Then you will be honored in the presence of all your fellow guests. For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted."

That was Jesus. That is one of the most simple, down to earth things I can recall him saying. It's like bragging about being the best basketball player (and maybe you even exaggerate a little bit) and then some loser comes around and shows you up like nobody's business.

Only the losers win / they've got nothing to prove / they'll leave the world with nothing to lose

I wish I was a rockstar. Right now I ask people to take pictures of the band. If I were really a rockstar, I might even be asking the obvious. Pictures don't make the band, popularity doesn't make the man. I think I've written a little bit about meekness before. I work really hard at being meek. Jesus said the meek would inherit the earth. That sounds like fun. I think meekness is knowing between you and God that you're so cool in His eyes, that you don't need popularity to affirm that for you.

My prayer is that God would bless you and I with that kind of confidence. That we would let our actions speak, and keep our prideful, exaggerant words to ourselves.

I've been thinking / thinking I've got a plan to lose it all / I've got a contract pending on eternity / if I haven't already given it away / I've got a plan to lose it all

The Cross

Yesterday in my College-level United States History class we watched a movie. Yes, movies are a large part of our curriculum. But that's not the point. The movie we watched was called Cinderella Man, which, in case you haven't seen it, is a movie about a boxer, not a prince or a princess or a slipper for that matter.

The problem with watching movies in class is that the movie takes longer than even our 90 minute classes. So the boxer, played by Russell Crowe, breaks his hand in three places. Russell comes home to wife Renee Zellweger, jobless. Power cuts off shortly after. Not enough money for food. Son steals a slab of meat from the butcher. Russell takes him to the butcher to return it, where son tells papa that he was afraid of being sent away like his friend, whose parents had to send him to relatives because they didn't have the money for him to stay here.

Now, by this point, I am closer to tears than I have been since I watched Inspector Gadget lying in the dump in the theaters when I was four. I couldn't grasp life like that. And the feeling wouldn't go away. Why do I feel so sick about this?

So Russell tells the stealing son that he will never be sent away. They will always be together. Always a family. (This scene actually took place before Russell broke his hand, but it fits better here in my narrative.) So Russell breaks his hand. Power cuts out. No food. Finally, Russell comes home to find from Renee that she had sent the children to their relatives, and that it was the only thing she could do. Heated argument.
"You don't have a right to make desicions about our children without me!"
"You weren't here!"
"You could have waited a few hours!"
"What else can we do Jimmy!?!?"

"I PROMISED HI--"
Cue the bell, turn on the lights, and cut the sound.

Don't worry, things turn out better in the end. But for the rest of the day I was thinking about how terrible it would be to live like that. And for the rest of the day I wondered why I couldn't get my mind off of this thing. I wondered why it hurt so much, why it tingled, why I felt burdened. The next period was the period right before lunch, thus everyone was talking about food. So there I sat with them bantering on and on about how hungry I was, but still being depressed about the Depression. Then, somewhat slowly, I realized that there are real people out there in the world of war-torn, poverty-stricken, waterless communities, who are seperated because they don't have what they need. The difference with them is that their seperation is lifelong. Children and parents alike die of malnutrition, water conamination, and a large variety of diseases, while I sit and talk about food. I reminded myself of the snobbish jerks in the movie who looked out at Russell and his family with disdain from their custom-made suits and beautifully designed and decorated apartments and houses. How could I be so sick?

So off I go to lunch, thinking about how much of a jerk I am for not caring enough, and thinking about how much I'm going to fast and give all my money to help send the love of God to far off countries, when all of a sudden, I feel the call of the wild. Or rather, the call of the chocolate. Before I know what's happening, I walk up to the candy counter, pull out a dollar, and get a twix bar in return. When asked if I will donate the quarter (twix is 75 cents) to the golf team I did; not because it was a good cause. Only because it was easier. As I sit back down, somebody mentions that I have writing on my shoes (it's the new cool thing), and I think some people don't have shoes. Pause. And I just bought a candy bar just for the heck of it.

The previous paragraph relates to a far more broad subject concerning the difference between submission and relationship, and which fuels which. That is for another couple of blogs. To big of a concept to really understand. . . period.

Anyways, for some reason, sitting at the lunch table, I thought about the verse (really verses, because the story is recorded in multiple gospels) where Jesus said something like "take up your cross and follow me." I would like to say that I had long been pondering this verse, and yesterday God revealed the meaning of it to me, but the truth is that this verse had not really ever occured to me as unusual before. All it really meant to me was that life as a christian is probably going to suck. But God stuck that verse in my heart yesterday. Almost like a lifeverse (kudos to Jeff for that one).

So I've been wondering, what is my cross, and was Jesus talking directly to me as He said it, or does everyone share the same cross? Paul told the Galatians that our sins were crucified with Christ, so why do we need to carry our crosses? Perhaps a cross is more than just an "emblem of suffering and shame" as the song goes. The cross that Jesus carried was an emblem of sacrifice and ultimate love.

One of the more major reasons I haven't been blogging lately is that for the past three weeks I've been preaching at the youth group about worship. Despite how qualified others thought I was to preach about this subject, I personally didn't feel very qualified. I didn't want to preach about something so vast, so awesome, and so. . . in the process for me. I felt like I was trying to explain puberty while my voice jumped all over the place, cracking and squeaking and such. I was talking to myself more than anyone else. I was so small. I didn't understand it all, yet I had the responsibility of explaining this concept that has baffled very smart people I know.

All that to say, these past weeks have been a journey of discovery for me. And everything I found about worship pointed me to love. Love comes in many different forms, but often it involves giving something up. Making a sacrifice. So maybe my Cross is just worship. Worship has different avenues for different people. I know a girl who doesn't seem to be super big on singing, but she gives like nobody else. Her generosity is her most prominent act of worship, though her worship is not limited to just that. Some people worship quietly and contemplatively and living their quiet, confident lives to the glory of God, and some worship vibrantly with dancing and shouting and telling people about Jesus. We are the body of Christ, each with different purposes, jobs, and opinions. None are more spiritual than the others. None are better. We are all called to love, and in so doing, we carry out the commission of denying ourselves and carrying our crosses.

Jesus gave the ultimate sacrifice, his life for ours. Jesus died so that we could live. There's no need to be the "Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world." That's already been done. So what cross will we carry? What will we sacrifice? Will we give up our candy for the sake of starving, parent-less children all over the world? Will we step down from our snobbish American (or Canadian) pedestals to give of our time, our money, our life, to the hurting, lonely people around us?

Deny yourself. Carry your cross. Follow Christ.

Then Jesus said to his disciples, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me."
--Matthew 16:24--

The Sword

I was (and still am) working on a blog about "taking up the cross," but in the process i came upon this verse from Matthew 10 (just a few verses before the taking your cross verse). . .

34"Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth. I did not come to bring peace, but a sword. 35 For I have come to turn
" 'a man against his father,
a daughter against her mother,
a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law -
36a man's enemies will be the members of his own household.'

This is Insight

I was going to write an introduction to this, but I can't think of what to say about it. Just read it.

J. W. Dahms - Flame in the Grain

This is Beauty Abandoned

The other day I was at work. I work at Pal's, a quick-service, drive-through, better-than-McDonald's restaurant. I was on sandwiches, which is, in my perspective, the most . . . big station. There's just so much to be done at the sandwich station, so when it gets busy there are often two people on the station: one to drop buns into the toaster and help keep things stocked, and the other to make the sandwiches themselves. I started the shift dropping buns for a nice girl named Misha. Everything was going well: we were working excellently as a team and I was getting slightly better at the actual making of the sandwiches.

Break time for Misha.

In the thirty minutes that followed, I struggled to get through each burger, dropping buns when I could, and dwindling the stock down to nothing. By the time Misha returned, lettuce was lying all over the place, there were onions in the tomatoes, and there was no cheese, buns, chicken, or pickles. I gave Misha my best puppy dog eyes, but to no avail. "Man this place was beautiful when I left it. I worked so hard to get it clean."

Beauty cannot endure without its creator.

Beauty may be able to survive, hanging on by a thread, but never will it flourish. The creator is the one who knows what's best for the beauty. The creator cares, and knows how to care better than anyone else in the world. The creator knows the beauty's inner workings.

Take for example . . . a work of art. The creator will cherish it, take care of it, love it. Like no one else, the artist will treat its creation like a king (figuratively of course), until that creation "expires" or a new, better, more efficient creation overtakes the old.

We are God's creation.

Here's the special part though: God never gets tired of us, He never leaves us for something better. The only problem is that God is love, thus He does not desire to force us to love Him. It's not in His nature, it's not who He is. True love cannot be forced. So God gave us a choice. When we remain in God's hands he will treat us right. He knows; He created us. Although life may not be easier, God will care for us, love us, make us better. And that process sometimes is hard.

So the choice. We can remain in God's eternal care, or we can abandon His love. We can turn our back on Him. We can take the wide, easy road. The "cool" path. There are so many ways we can be tempted toward this road. So many ways we can get tripped up, and fall down the cliff onto the wide path. And certainly, it seems easier.

We are beauty. We are beauty that will never be the victim of our Creator's abandonment. But we can abandon Him if we're not careful.

Are you beauty abandoned?

This is . . . Life?

My friend died this morning.

How do you go on from there? I didn't know her well, even when I was living in Canada, sitting across the aisle from her on the bus. Holly Baycroft always seemed quiet, kinda tucked inside herself, but cool. I don't think it has hit me yet. I'm just sort of sitting here pretending to be stunned. I am sorry, but I think part of me just doesn't believe it. Almost a mixture of hearing about some distant person dying, and trying to decipher when the sarcasm is ending in a conversation. I know I should be a lot more emotional than this. I'm just not. I am however trying to be contemplative. Death has never hit so close before. Death has always dwelled in far off places like Africa and my friend's cousin's dog's mother's roommate. Death just hit across the aisle from me.

What if my mom, sister, and brother got in a car accident. Only my brother survived, in critical condition. Worse yet, what if I thought that there was any chance that they might not spend eternity in God's love. New scenario. What if I helplessly watched from the sidelines as my dad turned down a chance to spare his own life by killing my mom, only to be chopped inch by inch from the legs up with machetes. My mom is killed similarly minutes later. My sister is sold as a sex-slave and my brothers are beaten to death.

These are not what-ifs. May God bless the people who have experienced this.

I just want to go hug everyone I know. Love is so . . . underrated. How have I interacted with my siblings today? I sat and had pictures with them, and played around on the hay bales a little bit. I pushed Gabe away when he was looking for attention. I gave Val one of those "oh that's cool" kinda answers when she tried to show me something today. Told a couple of them to get serious a few times. Stood by when Gabe cried over his recently dead mouse. Scolded Val for carrying the puppies wrong. Absentmindedly nodded at Gabe when he announced dinnertime. And Nate . . . I pretty much just didn't talk to him.

My parents took me to church and then met me at a local camp a few hours later. Then I grumbled at my mom when she took away from my "friend time" trying to get our family together for pictures at the camp. My last words to her as she rushed off to work from the picture session were probably something like, "Hey mom can I go now?"

And here I sit, facebooking, myspacing, blogging, and trying to make myself look like I'm good at guitar by playing all the easy songs I know. There must be more than this. That is the beginning of a song yearning for more of life. This is the beginning of a life yearning for more of God, more of love, more of life.

Fill us anew we pray, fill us anew we pray.

This is a New Blog

Due to the magnitude of words in my Catalyst 2008 notebook, I have decided to begin a completely new blog with the sole purpose of sharing my catalyst perspectives and experiences. I'm doing this because I don't want to bog you or this blog down with entries upon entries about Catalyst. I don't want to brag that I got to go, just to share the things I learned while I was there. It was incredible. In the realm of personal experiences, I connected with God in a way that I haven't for years. I've just started becoming "too cool" and God broke that down inside me through a fresh yearning for "it." Anyways, it's much past time for bed, and I don't mean to rant, but I do mean to rave. To quote Steve Fee's song Broadcast, "all over the world, let it be heard, our God is good!" Today is a new day. So you should read the new blog.

www.couperspective-catalyst.blogspot.com

This is Catalyst

I am struggling to repress the urge to write down everything I've written down in the past day and a half. I have over 15 pages of notes and we're only just over halfway through, and I just don't have the time between sessions right now. This conference has been incredible. I have felt God in a way that I haven't felt Him since . . . a long time. From Jim Collins' talk about buses and hedgepigs, to Craig Groeshel's message about the need for "it" (the presence of God, the Holy Spirit), to Dave Ramsey's 5 enemies of unity, I have learned much, and gained a deeper understanding of God. I must leave you now with that suspense. The next session is starting. There will be more.

You wish you were here.

This is Nothing New

I've been thinking.

What do I bring to the blog world? I think the answer is nothing. Nothing new at least. I hope the answer is nothing. If I were bringing anything new, then it certainly would not be from the Bible, and thus not be according to God's law. Like I mentioned in my previous post, God's got it all covered. He doesn't need people like me to bring new revelations to the world. So why do I blog?

I blog for me. I blog to sort things out in my own head, to drive things home. I don't expect to bring anything new to the table. I'm just reinforcing Biblical methods. I hope. My purpose is to look at old things in a new way, not to find new things altogether. With this in mind, while reading this or any other blog, learn from perspective, not new ideas.

This is the Essence of Prayer

Our Father which art in heaven, Hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth, as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil: For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever. Amen.

Matthew 6:9-13

There have been times when I read this passage and, just for curiosity's sake, tried to pray something that is not included in this prayer. I couldn't. There are all kinds of workshops and outlines which attempt to "teach" you to pray. But I'm pretty sure Jesus covered all the bases about two thousand years ago.

The crazy-awesomeness of God never ceases to amaze me. Two thousand years ago, God knew that Christians would try to overanalyze everything about the Bible (which, I firmly believe, was not meant to be overanalyzed), that He laid prayer out for us. . . plain and simple. Just like that.

Wow.

This is Accidentally On Purpose

The other day I was driving to the Waffle House (a much recommended eating venue if you ever are around one) with my buddy and bassist Neal Brantner. Good guy. Kinda crazy and off the wall sometimes--well, most of the time--but a good guy none the less. About a minute into the drive, we pass this guy on the road and Neal says, "See that? I didn't even hit him." This brought us to the discussion of driving games such as Grand Theft Auto and Driver, in which one of the main goals of the game is to run over people. "It's a good thing I don't play those too much," says Neal, "Or else I might accidentally start running over people on purpose."

I wonder. . . do I "accidentally on purpose"? Well, that depends. What is accidentally on purpose? I think accidentally on purpose occurs when something has been done on purpose so many times that it feels somewhat accidental. In essence, accidentally on purpose is equal to a habit.

According the "Unofficial Place of Awesome Knowledge and Such," otherwise known as Wikipedia, habits are "habituated routines of behavior that are repeated regularly, tend to occur subconsciously, and tend to occur without directly thinking consciously about those behaviors." The grammar student in me cringes at that sentence (structure, redundancy, use of the word itself in the definition. . .), but it gets the point across. The main word in there, I believe, is subconscious. These subconscious efforts (aka habits, aka on-purpose accidentals) take varying amounts of time to pass from "on purpose" into "accidental."

This is my prayer: God, in this time of forming habits and learning how to live, help me to live on purpose for You, and to have the discipline to live my life to the fullest, so that later in life my accidentals would be for Your glory. . . on purpose. Help my life to be driven by love and discipline, not facebook and laziness, and give me a passion unconquerable.

Of Seeping Weeds and Better Grass

This is kind of part two of the Grass Chronicles. Last time (Of Lawns and Aphorisms) I discussed how living in one extreme can often lead to another extreme, and how comparisons against other people is not how to rise above in life. I also talked a little bit about the difficulty of keeping a clean lawn in the midst of hayfields. Let's go into that a little more. . .

So, as I was thinking and walking and looking at grass, I thought about my own lawn. At the beginning of the summer, I sprayed most of the weeds and they died off. But evidently I missed some, because now the front yard is covered with annoying and ugly weeds and things. My point is that weeds spread. This blog may be a little shorter than most, because that's just about it. Weeds, when left unattended, spread and overtake your yard, and even the yards next to you. Thus, although it may look good on you for the time being to chill near the "hayfield" lives, and you may get plenty of good-natured attention, you sure as anything had better make sure those hayfields surrounding you don't seep weeds into your life. Standing out among the less-disciplined provides recognition for a while, until the weeds that have taken over their yards start taking over yours.

Now, on to people. There are people who are organized, ambitious, and disciplined; and there are those who are not. If you are striving to be successful, it would probably help if you weren't always having to spray out the weeds of sin and other bad habits that were seeping in from non-ambitious lives around you. However, we are called to lead those weedy lives higher, call them to a place of better grass so to speak. There is a fine line dividing too much and too little time spent with each type of group. We must learn to balance that tightrope, investing in others, but not neglecting to be invested in ourselves.

It is similar with ministry. It is indeed our calling to lead people to Christ, to help them grow deeper. For some that means getting up on a platform and preaching or leading Christ's followers in worship. But we must not neglect ourselves, or else we will not be able to minister to our full capacity. My dad gave me an example of this when I suggested simply forgoing college and going straight to the mission field. He said, "A doctor can reach down to a homeless person on the street, but a homeless person can't reach up to a doctor." Same with grass. A clean cut lawn can hold position and influence with other clean cut lawns, while also influencing lawns which are not kept up. An unkept lawn, however, can only have slight influence on other lawns, without any regard at all to the well kept lawns. Same with lives. God has called us higher so we can call others higher.

Here is what I'm trying to communicate:
1) Reach up to God and respectable people, who will take you higher
2) Reach out to others on your level, to have a mutual relationship in which you help each other climb higher
3) Reach down to underpriveliged, underinformed, or undermotivated people, and give them a hand up

Reach up, reach out, reach down.

Of Bumblyburg and Prideful Thoughts

Went for my driver's test today. Failed it miserably. I was upset.

But more than being upset, I was angry. At first I thought I was angry at the "stupid lady" who graded me on my driving. Then I came to the conclusion that it wasn't her, but the heavy traffic that I had to maneuver because of the time of day. Or that truck that tried to pass me on the right while I was trying to merge quickly into that lane. Mixed with my current level of frustration and lack of sleep, this provided the perfect explanation for me. But after slamming the strings of my acoustic for a while, I decided that it was neither of those reasons that I was really mad at.

I was simply mad at myself.

Not just mad because I had failed it, but mad because now I have to go tell everybody that I failed it. This is especially bad when you've previously found everyone that would listen to you, and excitedly told them that you had a driver's test today. My natural reaction was anger, because if I got angry at all the things that hurt me, perhaps everyone would feel sorry for me instead of laughing or telling me how much of a failure I am. I've already been told that once today. At least if I got really mad then maybe no one would really approach me about it. But whatever the case, the excuses and the anger flowed from my every pore.

After pouring my angry heart out to God for a while, it is plain as day to me that my failure was fully and completely my fault. Yes, I think I have a right to be disappointed in myself and maybe even in my circumstances, but I absolutely don't have a right to make excuses and beat myself up for the rest of the day. It may not exactly be hakuna matata, but the past is the past, and the past is not something to dwell on. . . It's something to learn from.

So what can I learn from this?

First, I should focus on improving my driving in the areas that were mentioned in the after-test report thing. But I think there is a deeper lesson to be learned. I have often heard the proverb "Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall," but never has it been more real to me than this. I have drawn a new dimension into my knowledge of this phrase. It is true that pride may make your chances of failing higher, that overconfidence could lead to complete destruction, especially if that overconfidence has no basis.

I think there are two different kinds of pride: genuine pride in some accomplishment you or someone you love has made, and the kind of bragging pride that is either hurtful to someone else, or even yourself, being that your pride is based on absolute speculation, or is not even yours to be proud of. Although there is an extremely fine line between the two, I believe the pride spoken of in Proverbs 16:18 is the second, more arrogant, pride. In this sense of the word, my recent epiphany has led me to read this as "Pride increases destruction, a haughty spirit lengthens the fall." By this I mean to say that pride not only increases your chances of destruction, but also that pride makes the fall hurt worse. When pride leads you to go bragging all over the place about this or that, if for some reason, or by some slim chance that thing that you've been bragging about turns out not to be true, you're not only unhappy, but your reputation is damaged and you are pained more than you would have been had you kept your excitement to yourself. The more and more you tell people of your pride, the harder you fall if it turns out to not be true.

This makes me think back to the lessons on lying that I learned as a child. The more you lie, the more you have to lie to cover up that lie, and so on. Eventually, just like our fine friend Junior the Asparagus, you build up a fib so big that it threatens to destroy the Bumblyburg inside of you. Eventually almost every case is discovered, and as I learned the hard way, the spankings last longer and hurt more if you lie about it. Just the same, the consequences of pride can be disastrous.

My mom told me a little thing about meekness the other day. Meekness is not synonymous with weakness. On the contrary, it is the humble strength that says "I have nothing to prove; my life will speak for itself." If you have meekness, you don't need to have pride; your life will speak for itself. Then others will speak for you, which is more honorable than speaking for yourself. Jesus Himself said when he was being doubted: "If I glorify myself, my glory means nothing. My Father, whom you claim as your God, is the one who glorifies me" (John 8:54).

Looking back over my ramblings I see that I have gone on many tangents, and I don't quite see how to wrap this up. Thus, may God bless us all as we battle pride and search for meekness. It will benefit us in the end.

Of Lawns and Aphorisms

I pass many houses during my daily walks. Walks to school, work, the mall, friend's houses. . . One major thing I notice on my walks is the quality of grass in people's yards. For example, on my way to work I pass through a variety of "neighborhoods." One clump may be fairly high class (I'm talking about lawn care here, not judging people), and then the next street you pass starts a completely different "lawn sector" (as I will refer to these clumps from here on out). Anyways, as I came to a usually unkept lawn sector on my way to work the other day, just kinda lookin' around, I was surprised to see a very distinctive line separating two people's lawns. I looked all around me and sure enough, this was the "hayfield" area, but there was one lawn that was cut cleanly, trimmed well, and just was looking good overall. It made me smile. I wanted to go up to the house and give the owners a big bear hug.

Why didn't I feel this way about the countless clean-cut lawns that I had passed only minutes before? Wu ji bi fan. This is a Chinese aphorism which means "movement to one extreme is bound to cause a reversal to the other." In simple English terms: extreme happiness brings sorrow; extreme sorrow brings happiness. When I was in the middle of the well kept lawn sector, the seemingly endless short-cut lawns were dull and boring. But in the middle of the hayfield sector, that one beautiful lawn stood out incredibly.

I have two points I want to make with this. The first is that many of us are surrounded by "hayfield" type of people. Most of the people in the upcoming generation (mine) don't really have that much discipline, and even get in arguments about who's lazier. In that kind of an environment, it is very hard to rise above the rest and get out that lawn mower, fire up that weedeater, and get that lawn cleaned up. It takes discipline to keep a lawn clean, especially when it doesn't really stand out as the worst. You may not stand out as the worst, but believe me, you will stand out when your lawn is the only well-trimmed one among the rest.

My second point is that the typical American (or Canadian) has a great life compared to most people in the world. Its like we in America are the well trimmed lawn sector of the world, along with a few other countries. As soon as one mishap takes place, we freak out and complain. As soon as the grass grows slightly longer than our neighbor's, it becomes an emergency. This is the problem. We were not created to compare ourselves against someone else. Ever pulled the "yeah well he. . ." thing with your parents? How did they respond? "We're not talking about Billy, we're talking about you." Live life to the best of your ability, focus on God, and He will lead the way.

I'm considering starting "The Grass Chronicles". . . or something to that effect. Anyways, more about grass on the way.

Of Humility and A New Perspective

You should read this: Humility Comes Before Honor - by Kristy Dahms. I believe this is the essence of being hiddeninsignificance. It is good to have a new perspective on topics such as this one.

Of Beauty and Invasion

CAUTION: Slippery When Wet.

It took me forever to find this spot. It was a rather painful forever, too. I am sitting among swarms of mosquitos in a seat molded perfectly for me at a place called blue hole. It is so named for the clear blue natural swimming hole that rests in the middle of a series of cascades tucked away in an obscure little creek near Elizabethton, TN. You should absolutely go. But when you come, bring a large team of volunteers and a lot of trash bags. As I look around I see the brutal conflict between the beauty of God's creation and the carelessness of mankind. This place at one point would have been a beautiful, undisturbed place of solitude; a place hiddeninsignificance. Insignificant because of how hidden it is, but also significant because of how insignificant it is.

First, I would assume, came the wilderness hikers. They came home and told everyone they knew about this beautiful place, and then there was a road. For the sake of all the lazy people who would only want to see it if it was accessible, the road was built almost right up to the falls themselves, only separated by a beautifully large rock. Soon after the road was built, the careless came. Now, looking around at the beauty and magnificence around me, I have to try to see around the beer cans, socks, pop bottles, and carloads of people. This is not to say that I am not enjoying myself. I've experienced a lot in the last hour or so. From dangling my legs off a 40 foot sheer rock face to helping a struggling inch-long bee out of the water to simply admiring the beauty of the waterfalls and the trees and the . . . bigness. Our God is an incredibly huge, but still expressively intricate creator. Stars flow from his mouth, yet he knit us together cell by cell. God's awesomeness never ceases to amaze me. Sometimes it passes to the back of my mind, but anytime I think of creation, I am zapped with a new burst of awe.

I think what I have discovered through my thoughts about this is that true beauty is not available to everyone. The truest and most magnificent beauty is hidden the deepest. Anytime beauty becomes easily accesible, it is destroyed. Think of all the movie stars, supermodels, musicians. . . . Very shortly after a new beauty is discovered and turned to the public, their life falls apart. Even the local beauties suffer. By the time they are ready to marry, they've been through so many failed relationships that they don't want to marry. They fear commitment because they have been used too often. All of this is just a reinforcement for the scripture in 1 Samuel: "for God sees not as a man sees, for a man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart." If God looks at the heart, then surely He focuses most of his care and love and beauty on the heart. Outwardly beauty is wonderful; I believe we were made to appreciate things that were pleasing to our eyes. But to find real beauty--true beauty--deep beauty, we must push through the brush and struggle through the wilderness. Beauty wants--needs--to be discovered; and once you arrive there, it is an incredible thing.

Beauty is worth fighting for.

Of Prayer and Relationships

"And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men. I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full. But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you. And when you pray, do not keep on babbling like pagans, for they think they will be heard because of their many words." (Matt 6:5-7)

Flash back about eight years.

This is my first time attending the church prayer meetings on Saturday nights with my dad. Nope, sorry. Can't sleep over tonight. But inside, I'm not too sad. I'm finally growing up. Finally to be recognized as something more than an insignificant child. I am nervous my first week. I sit quietly with my dad, soaking up the genuine spirit of the meeting, along with the religio-lingo that gets stuck in there to make everyone in agreement feel important. As I sit there huddled beside my dad, I formulate my prayer for next week. It will be grand.

This is probably my first time experiencing the kind of feeling that I believe the pharisees of old felt. You know the ones. . . they were the ones Jesus was talking to when he said, "pray in your closet." Anyways, here I come to the next meeting. Theres a lull in the praying. . . here's my chance! "Jesus. . ." I begin. Oh no! What comes after this? Dead silence. "Uh. . . please help my grandpa's leg to feel better." I blew it! My chance to impress all the mature Christians that I want to be recognized by, gone! Right out the window! As the meeting comes to a close, I am surprised to be greeted with thanks, with an almost adult-like respect. It isn't just smiling, as if to hide thoughts like, Oh man why did that kid have to come here and ruin our religious time with God. They were genuine thank-you's.

Flash forward to now. Looking back I realize that the response I recieved from my prayer may have been because of the simple joy that I gave everybody just from the encouragement of seeing a kid who seeks God. But maybe there was more to it than that.

The simplicity of a child.

Despite the fact that I'd had this huge elaborate speech of a prayer planned out, when it slipped my concrete, childlike mind, I automatically reverted back to my natural self. My natural self is the person that I am when I "pray in my closet." I was thanked not for the depth of my prayer, but for the authenticity of it. I was simply praying to God the same way that I would any other time.

My dad is a firm believer in "ask for what you want." The philosophy of this idea is that someone can't help you achieve something if they don't know what it is you want to achieve. The easiest way to help someone see what you want is to simply ask them strait up. In fact, people often get annoyed when you put too much icing on the cake and side-step your actual question.

I believe that God responds in a similar way. Not that He gets annoyed with us necessarily, and not that he doesn't already know what we're trying to ask, but God doesn't need or want to hear all the elaborate speeches we hear in prayer meetings. Our God is a god of the common folk. Proof of this? The New Testament was written in "slang" Greek (a nifty tidbit I picked up from my dad). He had the Bible written in the common tongue so that everyone would be able to know Him. Not just the scholars and philosophers. From the naive children to the stubborn elders. Everyone.

God created everyone as they are, with specific plans for them. He knows the journeys. He loves us as He created us. When we come to Him in prayer, specifically in front of others, I don't think he's looking for us to show off how "tight" we are with Him. That's silliness. It's like these stupid "top friends" on myspace and facebook. Instead of aiming for deep relationship with someone, we aim for a spot on that top friends list; whatever it takes, I've got to get on his/her top! This isn't what relationships are people! Yet, however much I wouldn't like to admit it, I myself get trapped in this relationship race quite often.

It is much the same with our relationships with God. He wants us to aim for personal depth, not the admiration of others for our vocabulary or our "deep relationship with God." I believe God is infatuated with children. Children are so genuine, so simple, so insignificant.

"Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven" (Matt 18:4).

God loves the simple. He wants everyone to come as we are. He created our "natural selves." He wants us to come to Him just as he created us. He desires for us to be one person, a person of integrity, without different costumes and masks for every situation. God wants that person that is praying fervently in the closet to be the same one praying in the spotlight. This is not to say that the spotlight is wrong. Indeed, the Bible, our life manual, encourages praying in groups. We've all heard the pastor or small group leader recite the scripture: "Where two or three are gathered. . ." However, there is also the time that he criticized the hypocrites who pray on the pedestal. So what does this mean? Does it mean that Jesus just can't decide what we should do? Definitely not. I think that both apply.

God wants us to pray like we pray like we pray. Same in the closet as in the small group as in the spotlight. The emphasis is not on how many people are watching, but on our internal motives for our prayer. Are we praying to and for God alone? Or is there an ulterior motive? Are we working up the relationship ladder to God? Or are we working up the church ladder to fame and importance?

Of New and Old

educationisnowhere

I recently saw this jumble of letters in a magazine advertisement. The caption mentioned that this could be read two ways: "education is nowhere," and "education is now here." Much the same, the title of this blog, "hiddeninsignificance," can be read two ways: "hidden insignificance," and "hidden in significance."

Both of these phrases mean something to me, so it saddens me to make them my first post, for soon enough they will be lost in the uttermost depths of the archives. Still, I must explain my meaning, if only for myself. As I tried to come up with a name for this blog, everything I came up with was taken. Every of my ideas was rebutted with a suggestion to stick "couper" on the end of it. My first thought was an idea that I had been mulling over in my mind for some time: the difference between "insignificance" and "in significance." I was really intrigued that such a minor difference could make such a major change; a complete flip-flop in definition, but still both remain true. But insignificance was taken, and nothing I could do to it was both legal for a blog url AND kept the initial meaning and depth of the thought.

So I sat.

And as I sat, an old Fanny Crosby hymn passed through my mind: "He hideth my soul in the cleft of the Rock, that shadows a dry, thirsty land / He hideth my soul in the depths of His love, and covers me there with His hand . . ."

I am hiddeninsignificance. I can think of many songs that start out along the lines of "Who am I?" I am one among billions. I am a cell in the biological structure of the Body of Christ. What about when I'm up in the spotlight, leading a hundred people in corporate worship? I am a road sign, pointing people to Jesus. I am nothing. At most, I am a vessel. I am just another insignificant place holder tucked away in the crowd. All this being true, those "Who am I" songs go on to say something like "that the Lord of all the earth would care to know my name. . ."

I am hiddeninsignificance. The psalmist wrote, "You knit me together in my mother's womb." I am not an avid "knitter," but I would guess that it doesn't just happen. It's not like God said, "Let there be Daniel" and there was Daniel. He knit me. Every tissue, every cell, every organelle, every A, T, C, and G of my DNA. That is a lot of intricacies for something so insignificant. So perhaps I am not so much Insignificance as I am inSignificance.

I am hiddeninsignificance. When insignificance is made in significance, it takes on a whole new meaning. Insignificance is the exact opposite of significance, which means "something that has power, position, or value." Thus, insignificance is the lack of power, position, and value. The awesome thing is that our insignificance makes us eligible for entry into the Significance. This Significance is the most powerful and valuable force in the universe. In fact, this Significance is the spring from which all insignificance sprang forth.

I am hiddeninsignificance. By now, you may be wondering where the "hidden" comes into all this. Backtrack a little bit to being insignificant. Is this insignificance a bad thing? One more thing that God put in between us and Himself? Must we surpass this insignificance to reach Him? By all means, No! Quite the contrary. We must not overcome insignificance. . . we must embrace it. Many know the story of Jesus and the little children from Sunday School. However, few realize the power and the value of it. Jesus said we must become like the little children. In an adult world, children can be seen as anything from a nuisance to a "doll," but in one word, children are insignificant. As a result of this, children must cling to and immerse themselves in the identity or significance of their parents. This is what God desires for us. He holds in Himself a significance deeper than any that we could amass. He desires not for us to find our own significance, but to integrate ourselves into His unsurpassable significance.

I am hiddeninsignificance. This concept is far too deep for me to understand, let alone write all I wish to share about it in a matter of a few hours. There is much more to being hiddeninsignificance than I know of. But I do know one thing.

I am hiddeninsignificance.