A Sudden Random Thought #4: The Truth About Santa

In the two months I've had this blog, I've had a decent number of ideas for things I've wanted to write about that haven't been posted yet. Some due to time, some to forgetfulness, but there's this one that just eludes me in the most ironic of ways. I would really like to write a post about waiting, what it means to have to just wait, to be patient because that's all you can do, and why that is such a good season of life to go through. Yet every time I feel like writing that post, either a different topic gets laid on my heart that needs to get out first, or when I sit down to write, I just find myself faced with the realization that it's just not the right time yet to write that post....I'm waiting to write about waiting...

So while we wait, I thought I'd write instead about Santa Claus.

Hang on a sec, I gotta throw on some Christmas music for this one....

Ahh. That's better. Vince Guaraldi's, "A Charlie Brown Christmas." Classic.

Tonight as work was wrapping up and things were rendering for my boss (ie: the computer was doing all the work and I had a little time to spare), I dropped by the blog, The Prodigal Jon (written by the same guy who writes Stuff Christians Like, and both are great blogs), and while I can't remember what post I was reading or what it said (I read a few different posts in a row, and now I forget which one struck me with this thought), a random thought hit me: Santa Claus may not be all that he's cracked up to be.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love Santa (I just remembered which post it was :)  ). I always looked forward to his arrival each year, and yet when I found out he wasn't real (my apologies to anyone I just dropped the bomb on...I'll pause a moment while you shed a few tears.....alright, moving on), I didn't have any difficulty accepting it. And will I tell my kids someday that Santa's coming? Probably.

But what I read tonight made me stop and think, are we inadvertently teaching kids a wrong mindset that they may take into their relationship with God someday?

We live in a world of work first, payment later. Do now, benefit after. Which makes sense, for the most part. If someone paid you to do a job before you did it, how motivated would you be to finish that job to the best of your ability, really? You've got the money already, and no more is coming, so wouldn't you just want to get the work over as quick as possible so you could go out and spend what you already made?

But God, I'm realizing, doesn't work like that. His salvation, His love, His grace and mercy, and His forgiveness: they're all free and upfront.

One of the lies I've struggled with most over the years is the thought that, after I've sinned, I needed to make up for it somehow. I had to be good for a long enough period of time for the stain of that sin to really be washed away. I needed to focus more on God, read my Bible more and pray more, in order for things to get better again. I felt like I had to earn the forgiveness, because if I didn't, the guilt and shame might not go away.

But that's not at all the way God works. Just look at the parable of the Prodigal Son (the inspiration behind the blog, The Prodigal Jon, in case that wasn't already obvious) in Luke 15. After demanding his father give him his inheritance, then going off and throwing away the money on wild living, the son comes back home with the intention of asking his father to hire him as a servant. But instead, the father doesn't even let his lost son make the request. At the mere sight of him coming down the road, the father runs to him, throws his arms around him, and starts yelling out instructions for party preparations. This son who was once lost and was now found would not be made to work off his sins, but was welcomed back joyfully without a single question asked, a single demand for repayment made.

And that's how I think God is. When I stumble and fall into sin and turn back to him to ask for His forgiveness, He doesn't respond with instructions for how I can repay Him. There's no waiting period for receiving His grace. The moment I return to Him, He is there, running to me with open arms, a big smile on His face, and tears of joy in His eyes, so happy to see me again. And He throws me a welcome home party. I don't deserve it one bit, but that's who God is.

Is that who Santa is? I was thinking about that tonight, and I realized it's not a good description of Santa at all. Unlike God, Santa's got a list, and he keeps a close watch on it. He knows who's been good and who's been bad, and while he rewards those who have worked hard to be good, he leaves lumps of coal for those who didn't live up to his standards. Work first, reward later. Fail, punishment.

We teach our kids that this person they can't see is watching them, judging them, and if they're good enough, he'll reward them. And I wonder, how many kids subconsciously transfer that mindset into their relationship with God one day, believing that God is like Santa: you can't see Him, but you know He's watching, judging your behavior, and if you're not good enough He's going to punish you with not nice things. When really, that's not who God is at all.

I could go much deeper into this, but the music just ran out and this is probably long enough for a somewhat random thought this evening. Hopefully it made sense, and I'm not trying to say that Santa's a bad guy and we should shun him like...some metaphorical thing that needs shunning (it's getting late). But when the time comes to teach our kids the truth about Santa and his unfortunate non-existence, and at the same time teach them about the Lord and His very real and good existence, I just think it'd be good to be wise about helping our children see the difference between God and Santa so that they won't go through years of life trying to earn what God has already freely given: His love, His Salvation, His grace, His mercy, and His forgiveness.

Overcoming Fear; or Why Rejection Sucks, But In a Good Way

"And in that moment, I had to decide that all my fears would not be allowed to rob from me the life I longed for. And so 25 years ago, I stepped into that fear and went through it and asked Kim to be my wife. And in that moment, my life changed for the better in a way that I could have never known. And I want you to know...that there is a life worth pursuing on the other side of your fears."

-Erwin McManus, testifying to his fear of commitment at the end of a sermon entitled, Fear.

Having spent a good portion of my life letting my fears dictate my decisions, I know what it feels like to know I've missed out on something more. I know the pain of seeing disappointment in someone's eyes as I refuse their offer, their suggestion to help me grow. I've been so consumed by fears that, at times, I have longed for the heartache of regret to just go numb so I could just get through this life and be content to live a life unfulfilled, because it just seemed easier not to try. But I thank God so much for that heartache, that painful reminder that I was made for something more, and that life is not something to get through, but something to be experienced, to be filled with experience, and with joy, and with sorrow, and love and tears and hugs and community and smiles and a million moments with a million different emotions, all of it drawing me closer to the God who made me and loves me and wants me to live. And not just me, but all of us.

Fear is a strange thing. It's something we all deal with, yet it's different for each of us. While I struggle with a fear of being judged, I have friends who show absolutely no care at all for what others might think of them. Yet they have their own fears (fears of heights, of water, large crowds, etc.) that I don't struggle with at all. Why does fear work like that? I don't know. Why am I able to hang by a few short ropes and small metal carabiners 40, 50 feet above the ground without a worry, but I can't convince myself to speak up and talk in front of large groups and crowds? Why is it that, while I'm up there in those trees, happy as a monkey with a whole bunch of bananas, across some wires on another tree is a person who is just freaking out and on the brink of tears because they can't find the courage in themselves to step out on those wires and trust what something inside of them is trying so hard to tell them, that those ropes, those carabiners, and that belayer down on the ground are not going to let them fall? And yet a few days later, I see that same person stand up before an entire camp and testify of their camp experience, without the slightest fear of what everyone listening to them will think of them?

We all struggle with fears of some sort as we walk through life. Fears of spiders, clowns, the dark, total silence...the list goes on. But it's what we do with those fears that really matters.

In that quote above, Erwin McManus was talking about how, once upon a time, he was afraid to step up and commit to his then girlfriend, Kim. Kim's friends had advised her to break up with Erwin, because he clearly showed no desire to commit to her. So he found himself faced with his fear, and decided he loved her too much to let his fear of commitment ruin something that could be so good. And as he said, it was a risk that paid off better than he could have hoped.

Looking fear in the face, weighing the differences, and realizing that doing something is almost always better than doing nothing is where fear is overcome. Stepping up, stepping out, letting go of yourself and trusting God to get you through whatever the outcome may be...especially when it's quite possible that outcome will be the one you hope it isn't.

Almost four years ago now, I made that fateful trip that I mentioned in another post; very spurt of the moment, at this sudden urging in my heart, I drove from Michigan to Kentucky to tell a girl that I had feelings for her beyond just those of friendship. Was it because I thought this was a good idea? Hecks no. Most of me was shouting at myself, Dude, you know she doesn't like you like that. What are you doing this for? And the rest of me was tossing in there, Do you know how crazy and stupid this looks and sounds? This wouldn't be news to her; she knew I had a crush on her. I'd even told her in a letter a few months earlier (which is a whole other story). I couldn't afford to spend money on gas and food. None of my friends down there knew I was coming. I couldn't think of a single logical reason to go. But in my heart, I knew that this was a risk I needed to take. To do something I'd never done before, to tell a girl face to face that I had feelings for her. An experience I had avoided all my life with any girl I had ever really liked. It needed to be done, despite the fact that it was 99.9% sure to be awkward as all get out and would just confirm for me yet again that this girl did not see me the way I saw her. So I made the trip, I told her how I felt, and sure enough, I got rejected.

Does that mean I shouldn't have bothered? Because there was no sudden happy ending twist, I should have given in to the fear of rejection and avoided a potentially painful and embarrassing experience? No. Because when you step out into fear to overcome it, it doesn't matter what the outcome is; you've just broken the hold that fear has over you, or at the very least weakened its hold. You've called the bluff and laid down your cards, and after all has been played out, you find that whether you won or lost, you've learned something of great value in that experience.

After that night, my fear of telling a girl how I feel about her was severely diminished. It wasn't eradicated entirely; I still struggle with it because, really, who wants to get rejected? But it no longer held me paralyzed and unable to try when faced with the decision to ask a girl out or not. And beyond that, it destroyed the lies that came along with the fears, those discouraging voices that would remind me of all those other times I'd given way to fear and would say to me, See? You can't do it. You're too afraid. Just like all those other times. You might as well just let this opportunity go by as well because you know you don't have it in you. To give yourself even just one time when you stopped listening to those lies, those discouraging voices, and instead stepped out and took the chance...to have that memory of a fear once overcome is so empowering, and it makes it easier to step up and overcome it again, and again, and again, until it's gone.

The trick, though, is taking that first step...and I'll be the first to admit, I'm not very good at it. There are still so many moments in life when I find myself faced with an opportunity to take a chance and not give in to fear for once, yet I don't seize the moment. I let another chance to grow slip by, another moment to possibly impact someone's life, or to speak truth or encouragement or even needed rebuke into someone's life, or even just to make someone smile. But by God's help, more and more firsts have been taken in my life, and I pray that more and more come along as soon as possible, because I'm sick of seeing those moments slip by and hearing those discouraging thoughts of shame mock me and degrade me. I'm tired of not living fully the life God gave me.

Over this last weekend, I found myself faced with an opportunity to step outside of my comfort zones and do something I've never really done before. I'm not all that comfortable with physical contact beyond simple high fives, fist bumps, and the occasional side hug. Especially when it comes to girls. Yet on Saturday, I found myself hanging out with a friend who is about as opposite from me as one can get: talkative, very friendly, very comfortable with physical contact, and most of all, she's a girl. And she hugged me. Honestly, enough times that day that I lost count. Because that's who she is, and that's cool. And I really appreciated it, because it helped me let go a bit of my fears of physical contact, so much so that I even took a picture with her, with my arms around her shoulders, smiling wide, with my face right next to hers. And if you've ever seen any photos of me, you know that pictures like that just don't exist. So that was good :)

But then there was this other friend, also a girl, also in that group I hung out with on Saturday, who I didn't do so well with. While waiting for our friends to purchase their apple-picking bags and baskets (we went apple picking at this orchard a few hours northwest of the city. It was awesome. I totally recommend it), she and I sat outside. And while we watched other apple pickers walking by, we noticed someone in the distance lose an apple from the top of their bag. It slipped off the pile and fell to the ground unnoticed amongst the feet of families walking to and fro (woot! first use of the word "fro" in my blog!) And my friend turned to me and told me how funny she thought it would be if I'd jump up and rush over there, dive on the apple, and start eating it as though I were half-starved. I laughed, because, yes, that would have looked hilarious and would have gotten a lot of strange looks from the passersby. But I chose not to do it. I made up some excuses, like how I wasn't hungry (which was true, we'd just had lunch; but still, I could have easily eaten a few bites of an apple), and I just sat there and watched the poor, lost apple get kicked around a bit before someone finally picked it up, decided it was no good anymore, and tossed it into a nearby trash bin.

A simple suggestion from a friend; a simple offer to overcome a fear and take hold of an opportunity to step outside my usual character and do something out of the ordinary; a chance to just make a friend laugh. And I let my fears of what the people around us would think keep me from doing it. And yeah, it seems so small, so forgettable. And she may not even really remember that moment now. It may have just come and gone like a bit of wind on a still day. But when you've been given as many chances just like that as I have, and have let so many slip by and had to endure that sigh as your friend accepts that you're just not going to do it, it adds up. And I wish I would have just done it. Just as I wish I would have done a thousand other little silly things over the years.

You can't just create moments like that. Like a good joke, they just have to happen when the moment is right. So I can't go back to her and say, Let me try that again.

[Update: The rest of this post has been removed for two reasons. A) This entry is already too long, and B) Sometimes in life, you have to step back and look at things from a distance, and once you do, you see them clearer than you could up close. And when I reread this entry, the ending didn't feel right anymore. In some future post here one day, I may explain why, so stay tuned...]

Ode to The Lime Juice

My last few posts were pretty serious, so I thought I'd lighten things up  a bit with a new non-sensical poem. So here we go!

Ode to The Lime Juice

In old days of old, 'tween eighteen and twenty, I had me a bit o' a job.

Long hours did tax me, the heat did quite bake me, and t'were not one coworker named Bob.

Late nights, early morning, the sleep was quite lacking, and coffee and I are not mates,

So elsewhere I turned just before the dish stacking...to rhyme, here's a name: Kathy Bates.

Within the fridg'rator between sticks of butter and dressings of ev-er-y kind (yep, 3 syllables there),

A bottle did wait like a coin in the gutter to really awaken my mind.

It's not what you think, not a drink of some stink, or a fink dink ba-dink clink clink clink (what the crap?).

A green flask of lime juice, three drops on a tongue sluice, and awake was I then, so says I.

It kind of fell apart there at the end (tongue sluice? that was a stretch), but it's almost two in the morning. That said, I think I'm gonna go for a walk now before bed because it actually feels like fall outside! And for L.A. that's saying something :)

Oh, and you can blame facebook and its pirate english translator for the odd wordings in there. Two words: Best-thingever....that's right. That's a word. At least for tonight.

Who am I, really?

"The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the world he didn't exist." - The Usual Suspects.

Occasionally, someone in Hollywood gets it right.

When I was in sixth grade, a new tradition began at my school. I forget what it was called, exactly, but I fondly (sarcasm) remember it as the "birthday beat down." When it was your birthday, your friends got to punch you (in the arm; they're your friends, after all) once for every year old you were. I witnessed this most intelligent of traditions a couple of times and decided I didn't want it to be my turn one day. It didn't look that bad--I mean, your friends aren't going to hit you so hard you wouldn't want to be their friend anymore--but pain and I don't really get along all too well (something about a baseball to the nose when I was 7), so that year when my birthday rolled around, I conveniently forgot to mention it to my friends. In seventh grade, with rumors of the tradition still circulating, I let the day go by again. And so it went on, even years after the "birthday beat down" fell by the way side.

I've gotten a little better at not hiding, though I still don't broadcast it much, especially as it draws near. I don't let facebook or myspace spread the word, and I don't even tell my roommates. I just went and checked my facebook wall posts from last year, and not a single post went up in the weeks--yes, weeks--around my birthday. Though, oddly, I did notice that I got two birthday wishes one random day five months later...why that happened, I can't remember.

Why don't I tell people about my birthday? I've been to quite a few birthday parties in the last year (another fun thing about being blessed with a community of friends), most of them thrown by the very person who's birthday it was. People seem to enjoy celebrating birthdays, whether it's theirs or not. But with me, it's different. I'm happy to celebrate someone else's b-day, but not so much my own. I mean, I'm not sad to see another year gone by or anything like that. It's just that, to me the idea of a bunch of people celebrating the fact that I turned another year older just seems...weird. I don't really get it. What's the point? Why should we bother?

I guess it makes sense if you look at it from this perspective: On some particular day, such and such years ago, God gave life to me. And as He creates things that are good and doesn't make mistakes, it's a day to remember that way back when, one cold Tuesday Night (if you're playing along at home and already know how old I presently am...which should be obvious if you've been reading this blog...that narrows it down to only 39 possible dates), God made something wonderful and beautiful, and we are thankful for that just as we are thankful for the opportunity to witness a sunset or appreciate the intricate beauty in a hummingbird's wings or any other miracle of God's creation.

I am fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14). I am. So why have I spent so many years unwilling to celebrate that fact?

Probably because I've spent much of my life either struggling to believe that verse or downright disbelieving it altogether.

At the age of nineteen, I remember consciously thinking to myself, "I am the ugliest person on the planet." No joke. No over-exaggeration. I thought I was the most unattractive person alive. I had plenty of "proof" to back it up: the times those well-intentioned people had pointed out that I wasn't wearing the right clothes, or the times someone pointed out I didn't have rock hard abs, and of course the many girls I had had crushes on over the years who didn't reciprocate the feelings. I had gone through middle school and high school and barely glimpsed the dating scene, and by barely I mean that I held hands with a girl twice over those 7 years. That's it. I was so convinced that there was something wrong with me, and that no girl would ever like me as anything more than a friend.

Something wrong with me...but God doesn't make mistakes, so something's wrong right there. I looked at the world around me, I looked at the circumstances of my life, the events and the criticisms and "advice" and all the good things that seemed to happen to others but not to me, and I listened to the voice that was easier to listen to. The voice that said to me, you're not good enough, you're not attractive enough, you're not worth it, and countless other degrading lies. Because to believe the truth, the comforting whispers of God trying to let me know that I am good enough, I am attractive enough, I am worth it, in the midst of all that the world had to say just seemed beyond my ability. It was too hard. I couldn't believe it.

And so I stopped allowing people to celebrate my birthday with me, because I didn't feel worthy of such recognition...and to some extent, I still don't, because it's become such a foreign concept to me, the thought that it doesn't need to be a prideful experience, allowing others to celebrate for you, but that it can be a humbling, growing, wonderful time.

It's been a long and difficult journey to overcome the lies of my youth, but I know I've come a long way. Whereas I used to think I was ugly, I now can look at myself in the mirror and stand amazed at the attractive face I see with the mysterious light blue eyes above the subtle smile. Whereas I used to think no girl could ever like me beyond friendship, still no girl has (I'm sorry if you were expecting a "God blessed me with the most incredible girl ever" happy ending), but that actually makes me happy, because the only girl I want to like me is the girl I'm going to marry someday; I don't know yet who she is or when God will bring us together, but I know she's out there somewhere, waiting for me just as I am waiting for her.

I still listen to lies, I'm sad to say. For example, the other day I wrote in my "Who I am" post that I am still a coward. Because a part of me still struggles to let that lie go, still looks at the circumstances of my life, sees the people I don't talk to, the situations I avoid, the conversational questions I fail to ask, and thinks that I must still be a coward. But the truth is, I'm not a coward. God doesn't make cowards. He made a courageous man who unfortunately sometimes lets his fears dictate his actions.

I am courageous. I am a risk taker. I traveled across the country one summer to work at a place I'd never been to with people I'd never met. I climbed a mountain with a video camera when I didn't think I had it in me to do the job that was expected of me. I drove across three states to tell a girl I liked her even though I knew she didn't like me back, because I knew it was a risk I had to take, a challenge I had to tackle, a fear I had to overcome (that said, even though it was something I, personally, needed to do to grow and I'm glad I did for all it taught me, it's not an action I would recommend anybody take. Seriously). To look back over my life and call myself a coward? What a lie.

Thank you, God, that I'm still learning.

And in case you really wanted to know, I was born on March 2nd, 1982.