I had an interesting conversation the other day about the nature of hope...the dangers of it, to be exact. Living a life that matters - life set against the backdrop of a larger story...His Story - is not without serious dangers. In fact, perhaps the most frequent reason that people live truncated lives (even Christians, mind you) appears to be the fear of hope. Clipping off the highs of life through limited expectations is a natural mechanism that helps us exert a sense of control (despite the truth: control is not within our grasp). Don't we all do this? Short circuiting hope in order to reign in expectations and prevent against the seemingly inevitable crushing defeats that life stands all-too-ready and willing to deliver.
Wow - suddenly that seems very harsh. Yet nonetheless true.
My theory on this topic was soundly rejected by the men I was with the other day. As a result I've turned the idea over and again in my mind only to end up exactly where I started. "I don't think it works," I said. More to the point, speaking to the opposite end of the puzzle, I pointed out, "I'm not sure that hoping more actually equates to hurting more."
"Of course it does," said my friend. And his logic seemed right. He pointed out that the larger story called for more faith, which engenders hope and leads to love...and that all of that was risky. Riskier, it would seem, than cutting hope short - although he went on to argue the merits of that risk. My friend would never suggest that anyone settle for a smaller life than the one Christ promises...and he trusts (through faith) that the risk of pain is worth the hope of something more.
At the time I agreed. I still do, regarding the risk I mean.
One quick note: I would certainly draw a distinct line between the idea of "hope" and that of "expectation." Expectations, of themselves, seem to indicate a point of view that understands and anticipates the best outcome - a point of view that we each lack given our perspective from "within" the story. Hope engenders a sense of wonder and faith that the Lord has something wonderful waiting for us in the midst of our circumstance...an "ever-increasingness" that might only be understood looking backward, with the benefit of new and better perspective (perhaps even outside of this life).
But I also feel like we can apply specific circumstances that blur the ideas of hope and expectation while still demonstrating that our risk in hope is not, necessarily, a greater fall than having not risked at all. Well, to e clear: not risking at all is the most terrible risk, in my opinion...so let's instead say "risking less" or living habitually with "truncated risk."
I've heard and read about men who climb mountains. I have no desire to follow in their footsteps, by the way. When these men take off on their expeditions they plan, pack and make their way to base camps where they map out and make final preparations for the ascent. As they make their way up the mountain, they establish new camps at higher elevations until, at some point, they reach the last post before the final climb. As they journey upward they continually set new baselines - foundations - upon which they climb to the next level...and the next.
Is not hope the same?
Marathon runners train for months in preparation of 26 miles. Rigorous training. Pacing. Even recruiting - I understand that many enlist the aid of companion runners who join them for the last 8 miles or so to help them finish strong. Each mile they run takes them closer to the finish line...or to failure. And every stride is taken in hope.
So what happens when failure strikes? When their bodies simply quit?
Given all the time, training and effort...all of the collective hope and, yes, even expectation. Would any of these people point to failure and, if they were forced to "graph" their experience, draw such a colossal drop at the end of the inexorable climb that it fell BELOW the original baseline? Even in death, I wonder if there is a recorded instance of a mountain climber falling LOWER than the original base camp...the literal foot of the mountain (or anything quite near it). Or, in the case of a collapsed marathon runner, (like the one featured in the Gatorade commercial, perhaps) dropping to his knees mere feet from the finish line...doesn't that still mean he's something like 25.8 miles further along? A tragic end, yes...but one that eclipses every step that went before it?
I know the hopes in our life aren't quite so clean as these. Nor are the disappointments. But I would make a simple plea against this idea of a proportional hope-to-loss ratio. In fact I think there is a strong argument for "loss" being a relative constant...while hope is more like a multiplier. I mean to say that our hopes build upon one another...hope begetting hope. Even when hope is so deeply entwined with expectation. As the hope piles up, our failings never fall so far as to reset our experience of life to something that approximates zero...or below.
Perhaps the metaphors and mathematical illustrations don't do this idea the justice it deserves. Perhaps the very idea of graphing hope is as foolish as the poetic graph students were told to rip from their textbooks in "Dead Poets Society."
Perhaps my friend is right when he says that hope is risk...but risk well worth taking.
But maybe the real danger lies in cutting hope short. Because when disappointment strikes and our foundations are shallow, we find ourselves far closer to truly "bottoming out" than we could ever have feared.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
In the Shower
All of my best epiphanies seem to occur in the shower. Perhaps its the culmination of my thoughts and dreams the night before? Perhaps its just the reality of my life: I don't get much "down time" unless it includes water falling on my head!?
This morning featured an odd moment that is still resonating with me as the day passes: I washed my hair twice. Familiar at all? Or am I pretty much out on the limb by myself on this one...
I did not do this in the way that, so I've heard, women sometimes wash their hair...and rinse...and wash...and condition and whatever. I really don't have enough hair for all that. No...I just completely forgot, distracted by my own thoughts no doubt, that I'd done it already! Seriously. As I put a dollop of shampoo in my palm I experienced one moment of "have I done this already?" Then, as I lathered, I realized it: "yes, yes I have been here before...mere seconds ago, in fact!"
Now, this may be a great argument against multitasking in general (reports of which I've actually read lately from the scientific community - God help me if its true because, candidly, I'm multitasking right at this moment), but for me it shined an immediate spotlight on an uncomfortable truth about my walk with the Lord: rinse, wash, repeat.
Let me be clear: it is my desire to change and become a better man - a better "God Lover," I suppose - as I live each day after the next. And in some ways I live out that intent. In some ways I live toward the ever-increasing-ness that Christ has to offer. In some ways, in fact, I've stopped rinsing and washing and repeating the same old mistakes.
But in many ways I still live in the midst of that cycle.
And in most ways it seems to stem from my own distractedness more than from my intent.
And, one more, in ALL ways I believe it reflects the foundational mistake of "trying" as opposed to "being."
You see, when I try to live change by change...event by event...I inevitably fall into the habits with which I'm most comfortable. When I live changed my habits are a constant reflection of my foundational orientation and beliefs. One good friend of mine sums this up all the time with the help of Morpheus (from the Matrix trilogy):
"There is a difference between knowing the path and walking the path."
2 Corinthians 10:3-6 says it this way: "For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ."
I suppose those two quotes may not look quite the same. Not immediately, at least. And yes, I think the idea of "holding every thought captive to Christ" has never before sounded the same to me as the idea of "walking the path," either. But I'm beginning to believe that they really, really are...the same. Ultimately this is about BEING, not doing. Its about having faith that my actions will, inevitably, reflect (or betray) who I really am - not about policing my actions in spite of my faith.
Interesting to note: this idea of taking my thoughts captive comes in the context of a battle. Its like everyone in the world is engaged in a fight, and we are called to fight differently. Specifically, Paul urges this idea of obedience to Christ IN DIRECT OPPOSITION to the way in which the world wages war. It is a DIFFERENT weapon, he says. Not like "the world" but with the "divine power to demolish strongholds!"
So what does this have to do with the shower? With my persistent distraction and my unfortunate default setting: rinse, wash, repeat?
When the world desires change it begins with behavior. It begins with focused and persistent attention and some measure of aversion therapy. In the world I must be on constant watch to prevent myself from making the same mistake...and, in my case, that constant watch is hard to maintain.
When the Lord desires change, He invites us...to change. He invites us to borrow His authority and act in His divine power "to demolish strongholds" by resting in His knowledge and holding ourselves captive to Him. Even in the midst of typing that sentence, I so easily shift my focus to the way of the world: "must...hold...captive...must...grit...teeth...must...hold...on." But I don't believe that gritting my teeth is the promise - the promise is delivered in His power, in the reality of His ability to change...and in the power of LIVING changed.
If this is true then holding myself captive is really lived out in pursuit of Him, not in opposition to anything else.
So, to revisit the shower where I started...and to horribly twist the analogy (breaking it, I'm sure): if I could just get my mind around the idea that my hair is already clean (washed clean by Him)...I wouldn't wash it over and again no matter how distracted I became?
Yep, I knew it would break.
This morning featured an odd moment that is still resonating with me as the day passes: I washed my hair twice. Familiar at all? Or am I pretty much out on the limb by myself on this one...
I did not do this in the way that, so I've heard, women sometimes wash their hair...and rinse...and wash...and condition and whatever. I really don't have enough hair for all that. No...I just completely forgot, distracted by my own thoughts no doubt, that I'd done it already! Seriously. As I put a dollop of shampoo in my palm I experienced one moment of "have I done this already?" Then, as I lathered, I realized it: "yes, yes I have been here before...mere seconds ago, in fact!"
Now, this may be a great argument against multitasking in general (reports of which I've actually read lately from the scientific community - God help me if its true because, candidly, I'm multitasking right at this moment), but for me it shined an immediate spotlight on an uncomfortable truth about my walk with the Lord: rinse, wash, repeat.
Let me be clear: it is my desire to change and become a better man - a better "God Lover," I suppose - as I live each day after the next. And in some ways I live out that intent. In some ways I live toward the ever-increasing-ness that Christ has to offer. In some ways, in fact, I've stopped rinsing and washing and repeating the same old mistakes.
But in many ways I still live in the midst of that cycle.
And in most ways it seems to stem from my own distractedness more than from my intent.
And, one more, in ALL ways I believe it reflects the foundational mistake of "trying" as opposed to "being."
You see, when I try to live change by change...event by event...I inevitably fall into the habits with which I'm most comfortable. When I live changed my habits are a constant reflection of my foundational orientation and beliefs. One good friend of mine sums this up all the time with the help of Morpheus (from the Matrix trilogy):
"There is a difference between knowing the path and walking the path."
2 Corinthians 10:3-6 says it this way: "For though we live in the world, we do not wage war as the world does. The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ."
I suppose those two quotes may not look quite the same. Not immediately, at least. And yes, I think the idea of "holding every thought captive to Christ" has never before sounded the same to me as the idea of "walking the path," either. But I'm beginning to believe that they really, really are...the same. Ultimately this is about BEING, not doing. Its about having faith that my actions will, inevitably, reflect (or betray) who I really am - not about policing my actions in spite of my faith.
Interesting to note: this idea of taking my thoughts captive comes in the context of a battle. Its like everyone in the world is engaged in a fight, and we are called to fight differently. Specifically, Paul urges this idea of obedience to Christ IN DIRECT OPPOSITION to the way in which the world wages war. It is a DIFFERENT weapon, he says. Not like "the world" but with the "divine power to demolish strongholds!"
So what does this have to do with the shower? With my persistent distraction and my unfortunate default setting: rinse, wash, repeat?
When the world desires change it begins with behavior. It begins with focused and persistent attention and some measure of aversion therapy. In the world I must be on constant watch to prevent myself from making the same mistake...and, in my case, that constant watch is hard to maintain.
When the Lord desires change, He invites us...to change. He invites us to borrow His authority and act in His divine power "to demolish strongholds" by resting in His knowledge and holding ourselves captive to Him. Even in the midst of typing that sentence, I so easily shift my focus to the way of the world: "must...hold...captive...must...grit...teeth...must...hold...on." But I don't believe that gritting my teeth is the promise - the promise is delivered in His power, in the reality of His ability to change...and in the power of LIVING changed.
If this is true then holding myself captive is really lived out in pursuit of Him, not in opposition to anything else.
So, to revisit the shower where I started...and to horribly twist the analogy (breaking it, I'm sure): if I could just get my mind around the idea that my hair is already clean (washed clean by Him)...I wouldn't wash it over and again no matter how distracted I became?
Yep, I knew it would break.
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