Soaring with Evel Knievel

I gun the throttle and hit the jump.  There I am up in the air flying across the yard.  I feel like I am soaring with Evel Knievel across a canyon.  The dirt bike and I come down and I have just a split second to make the sharp turn to get back onto the driveway.  The gravel beneath the tires sprays out into the yard behind me as I continue to turn the bike to safety.  But gravity and force are getting the better of me; pulling me into the wet grass on the other side of the drive.  And before I know it I am down.  As I slide across the grass away from the dirt bike something doesn't feel right.  I come to a stop.  My breathing stops.  My heart stops.  I roll over and look up at the grey clouds in the sky that had recently poured rain onto the bike trail.  And then as I take my first breath, pain washes over my body and I realize that something was indeed not right in my world.  I lift up my hands to my face and see the fingers out of place.  Pain seizes my hands and I shout out for my son to come help me.  The grey clouds turn white as I feel myself try to slip away in the anguish of pain.  I look at my broken fingers once again and shake my head to wake myself up.  I get up slowly and stare at my hands just hanging there at the end of my arms.  “Well,” I said to myself, “that’ll leave a mark.”

I honestly believed that once I got older that I would get to an end of all the stupid things I have done in my life.  But, every year seems to find me in a position where I have to say, “well, that’ll leave a mark.”  It’s a big deal to me as well, because I don’t want you to think of me as stupid.  I have worked hard for the majority of my life to convince everyone that I am fine, and that I have everything together.  Everything is great.  My marriage is great.  My kids are great.  My life is great, great, great.

Do you relate at all to this?  Trying to hide your weaknesses and failures from others so you look better.  We have to recognize the heart of this issue if we are going to be true.  It is a selfish thing to wear a mask.  Call it self-preservation, self-protection, self-centered; it doesn't matter.  It is from a selfish heart that this comes.

I love the line I have played in my head and actually spoken to my wife; “I was just trying to protect you.”  Bullshit.  I wasn't trying to protect her.  I was protecting my own butt.  If I truly cared about her and our marriage I would have fallen face first before her and exposed my true nature.  I would have shared my weaknesses.  I would have told her of my previous failures.  All of these truths being shared would have been about protecting her.  But no, I hid the truth from her so that I would appear better.

The first aspect of this is the concept of us getting our validation from our spouse.  And that is the most dangerous thing we can do.  Marriage has to be more than that selfish activity.  We hide our true sinful nature because we need our spouse to affirm that we are great.  But when we hide ourselves from others it is a false validation.  They are only validating the impostor and not the real us.

The other aspect of this is that for us to be open and honest with others, we have to be able to trust them.  And trust is hard to come by these days.  Is it even possible to trust others?  We have been hurt so many times by those that claim to love us.  And so I am to trust these people with my brokenness?  Most days we say “no thank you.”

So I trudge along year after year keeping up appearances.  And every year I get more tired playing this stupid game.  I am so worn out trying to live as the “Mythological Liar”.  Because when we get down to it, life isn't always great, and we aren't always fine.  We struggle, we fall, and we break.  So we throw ourselves into another set of “Rules to Live By” and hope for the best.  We convince ourselves that if we would just be more “Christian” everything would be fine.  Tell me, how did that work out for you?

It didn't work for me.  Every now and then, my mask would slip and the real me would be exposed.  People would catch a glimpse and I would have to deal with the outcome.  They might embrace me, or they might reject me.  Whatever it was, I just had to deal with it.  And that is a hard place to be when you don’t think highly of yourself.

I can hear some of you now.  “What, Brian, you don’t think highly of yourself?  How can that be?  You are boastful, arrogant, and sometimes a royal jerk belittling others.  What do you mean you don’t think highly of yourself?”  Or some others of you may be saying, “But Brian, you are compassionate, thoughtful and always giving to others.”

Yes, my impostor is boastful, arrogant, and a royal ass.  I am also compassionate, thoughtful, and giving.  My impostor can be whatever I need it to be in the situation.  I do that as a defensive measure to protect from getting hurt.  Because I know the real me; and I don’t like the real me very much.

And I would assume that I am not the only one like this.  Some of you may be thinking about the different masks you wear to hide from others.  Can you name them?  Can you see them?  Picture yourself pulling your mask off and hold it in your hands.  What do you see there?  What do you think others see there in that mask?

Let me finish the dirt bike story.

We make it to the hospital and I get the news that I knew was coming.  I had broken my pinky finger on my left hand; and I had broken my ring finger and my pinky finger on my right hand.  My pinky fingers, really.  That’s it.  Evel Knievel would have broken more than that.  I longed to have broken my arm, my shoulder, my neck, anything but my pinky fingers.  But there is more to the story.

You see, that dirt bike I was on was a kid’s dirt bike.  It wasn't some massive 400cc king of the dirt hills; no it was a little 70cc kiddies bike.  How do I look to you now?  How do you feel about my story when the mask is down and the real me is revealed?  Still sexy?  Still heroic?

And this is where the fantasy and realty collide.  Me, goofing off on a kid’s dirt bike, dreaming that I am Evel Knievel, and I lay it down and break my pinky fingers.  What a sight I am.  But I have nothing to be ashamed of.  I have nothing to fear or hide, because no matter what others think of me I know the real me.  And as much as I don’t like the real me; I love the real me.  And everyday I am learning to love the real me more and more.  Everyday I am learning about grace.

Can you give the real you the grace you need to live?

It’s a risk to live in a realm of grace.  These masks are really good at protecting me and I don’t know if I could trust others to be kind.  Is there some hope that a life free of the impostor is possible?
I believe there is hope for a life without the impostor.  I believe we can experience safety in the realm of grace and live there.  I believe that there is someone who loves the real us, no strings attached.  I do believe in grace.  And if you are like me, then you are tired of living this life without it.

If you made it this far through these wandering words, I thank you.

For guys, there is a group of men who will be gathering on Wednesday nights in Columbia, Missouri starting October 1st to talk about this Grace thing.  If you would like to join us, then please let me know.
So, here is a chance to come together with a group of men who are struggling, falling, and breaking.  A chance to find out that you are not alone in life and that there is “Grace” that will bring you from a life of pretending to a life of living.  This is a chance to stand with Jesus and face the curse of this world; instead of searching for another mask to wear to hide from your failures.  This is a risk.  Grace is a risk.  But, it is also a glorious adventure that will lead you to the great heights of what it means to be a man.  So if you are interested, then please come join me on Wednesday nights starting the first of October as we seek “The Cure.”

Genocide, Suicide, Racism and Josh Groban

Twitter and Facebook are blowing up with posts about all the horrible news going on in the world right now.  It seems like finding any good news is like going on a treasure hunt with Indiana Jones; hard to find and someone is probably going to die along the way.  But man, that Holy Grail is something else.  And every piece of good news is something to be treasured and valued. 

The Royals are in first place.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!  But my heart grieves.  Darkness surrounds me.  I should be laughing, singing and dancing, but I just want to hide in my room and cry.

The thought of war in Israel; children dying in Iraq; race wars in St Louis; one of my soccer players battling bone cancer; and the one actor who through my whole life continued to inspire me to be greater, goes and decides to end the war of depression raging inside him.  But the Royals are in first place.  Yeah, yeah, yeah, so what.

And there is more going on then just these events.  It seems like evil has decided that we have been too complacent and we need to be challenged more.  “Is this not enough?  Do we really need to face more than this?”

So we in turn respond on our favorite social media sites with the proper amount of outrage to inform all of our followers that we have chosen the right side of the struggle.  All of us have our say, and join our voices with the popular opinion of the moment.  We puff up and show our support so that all of our followers know where we stand and how our hearts are in despair.  We use our outrage to posture ourselves into deliverers of truth and justice, heralds of the correct order of life.  And depending on the responses we can then decide if we need to post more propaganda, or just begin un-friending the unbelievers. 

Now, before you go and un-friend me for being arrogant and condescending; let me finish my short dialogue here to explain my position. Take a look with me first at the word outrage and let’s explore what it means.  This definition is from Dictionary.com.

outrage

n

1. a wantonly vicious or cruel act

2. a gross violation of decency, morality, honour, etc

3. profound indignation, anger, or hurt, caused by such an act

vb (tr)

4. to cause profound indignation, anger, or resentment in

5. to offend grossly (feelings, decency, human dignity, etc)

6. to commit an act of wanton viciousness, cruelty, or indecency on

7. a euphemistic word for rape¹

[C13 (meaning: excess): via French from outré beyond, from Latin ultrā]

outrage - The true etymology of outrage has nothing to do with out or rage—rather, it is a borrowing from French outrage, "insult, outrage," based on Latin ultra, "beyond," and -agium, a noun suffix; outrage first meant "lack of moderation."

I like the original meaning of the word, “Lack of moderation.”  Another early translation I saw said it was defined in French and Latin as “beyond the reasonable measure.”  And so I believe we need to think about our outrage in that sense.  Are we going beyond reasonable measure?  Do we lack moderation in our response?  And if so, then what good are we doing the situation.  Yes we need to be offended when evil strikes us.  Yes, we need to defend the innocent and stand in the darkness with torches and shine grace, love and light.

But what really is going on with all the outrage we read about on Twitter and Facebook?  Is it us standing against evil, or are we posturing so that others will think more kindly of us?

Genocide is a topic we cannot take lightly.  The mass execution of a group of people based on ethnicity or religion is a horror that should grieve all of us.  To go to the point of inflicting this destruction on innocent children is as ugly as one can get on the sin-O-meter.  My heart is torn more by violence against children than any other atrocity I have seen or heard of.  If you want to see me turn into the Hulk, than hurt one of my kids.  I will show you a rage that would make the devil shudder.

When I see the outrage on social media regarding the situation in Iraq I become quite concerned.  Wars have been going on for thousands of years.  Children have been used and abused by men in their quest for blood and glory throughout that entire time.  But is my concerned focused on the truth of the events happening and the actual people that are in the midst of those situations and their well-being; or am I using social media gossip to allow me to posture with a stance of justice and call for the other side to be murdered?

I don’t want Christians to die at the hands of Muslims.  I don’t want Jews to die at the hands of Muslims.  But I also do not want Muslims to die at the hands of Christians and Jews.  We have to get beyond the posturing and find the truth of who we all are and learn to live in community with one another.  There is a way to peace; but my post on Facebook about killing terrorists is not a part of that way.  The one I follow, would never use social media that way, so why should I?

Robin Williams has always been one of my favorite actors.  I first saw him in “Mork and Mindy” and I have seen almost every movie he has made since then.  His movies “Hook” and “Dead Poets Society” are absolute must sees in my book.  Great truths about humanity can be found in them, and Robin delivers it perfectly.

Suicide is not something I take lightly.  I first experienced it in elementary school when a friend of mine tried to hang himself in the bathroom and I was one of the kids who found him.  I then met a great musician back in 1992 and had numerous conversations with him about life, music and grace until he took his own life just before the Christmas of 1993.  And I currently have learned a lot about the subject of suicide from someone close to me who has battled depression and suicide most of their own life.

But before I way in with my opinion on Robin’s life, his work, and his battles, I want to know the truth.  I want to know about the demons in his head and what they were saying.  I want to know about the nightmares and the fears that locked him up.  I want to know about his family and what they feared; what they dreaded every-time there was any silence from Robin.  Because, until I know all of that, I can be shocked and disappointed, but I can’t be beyond reason and measure for any good purpose.

And this plays into how we are treating those around us.  Are we really listening to those people closest to us?  Do we really know what is going on inside them?  Or do we judge their moods and call them selfish and immature?  It’s great to post about suicide and depression, but what is the purpose of these posts?

I have battled bouts of depression in my life.  And a kick in the pants, or the ability to pull myself up by my bootstraps was not going to get me through.  Sunday school answers don’t work all the time, and sometimes they cause more harm then good.  But standing with someone, holding onto them, and loving them because of their weaknesses, brokenness, and beauty always does good.  Sunday school questions are meant to lead us to Jesus, not some magic formula.

Racism is also not something I take lightly.  I know that I fight my own prejudices.  I will admit it.  I see a large group of black men downtown and I still get nervous.  I buy into the lie that they want to harm me.  It’s one of the stereotypes that we teach each other in our society that cause us to fear.  We thrive on fear.  It raises us up and puts others down.  We measure ourselves against others to prove that we really are something of value.  And only if the flower next to us can be judged to be a nasty weed, do we actually feel like the beautiful rose we were created to be. 

I know that in Ferguson Missouri tonight there are people on both sides of the protest line using stereotypes to justify their outrage.  And that is wrong.  Until we can get past that and look into ourselves and find the truth, we won’t heal.  We don’t need another Facebook post about bad cops or thugs.  We need to get to the truth of the prejudices we all have and find out that we are all racist to some degree.  We then need to find out that in spite of our broken ways we all can live in community and love one another.  We can go beyond the norm and be great.  As Doctor Who would say, we have the potential to be fantastic.

So the question that comes up in my head every time I read another Twitter or Facebook post is this: why is this person saying this?  What is the point they are trying to make?  I don’t mean to be judgmental.  Honestly I can’t help it.  It is a part of my broken nature.  It is a part of me that needs to be fixed.  I want to move beyond being critical and find grace in everything.  So that now leads us to Josh.

My son Gabe’s favorite song right now is “You Raised Me Up”, as sung by Josh Groban.  He plays it constantly.  He sings it all the time.  We could be in the middle of the grocery store and all of a sudden, Gabe looks to the sky, raises his arm and starts serenading the lady stacking the cucumbers with, “you raise me up, so I can stand on mountains, you raise me up, to walk on stormy seas, I am strong, cause I am on your shoulders, you raise me up, to more than I can be.”  And yes, I am not sorry that song will be stuck in your head for the next 24 hours.  Welcome to my world baby.

But, in spite of the weird looks that Gabe gets from the veggie lady and his sister, he has something right.  Gabe is seeking out the good in others that is inspiring him to be better.  He is finding the grace in our world and using that to build community.  In a sense he is calling for all of us to rise up and love one another.  Gabe is doing what Jesus would do.  He is looking past the brokenness and pain and simply listening to their story, loving them and letting them love him for his story.  That’s it, nothing more, nothing less.

If you need to un-friend me, I understand.  I know the real me, its okay, I really understand.  

When I read the hundreds of posts and tweets out there my response is to challenge the outrage.  Mostly I want to challenge myself and my own outrage because of the impostor in me I fight everyday of my life.  It's me trying to get the whole log and speck thing right.  So when I post something on social media am I posturing or am I seeking truth?  One will bring more violence, and one will bring grace.  One will bring division, and one will bring community.  One is beyond reasonable measure, and one is fantastic.

I truly believe that we can be fantastic.

What Would You Choose: Justice versus Grace?

Looking at all the horrible events going on in the world right now makes me angry.  I am disgusted by the absolute insensitivity that people are pouring out on others.  I look out and see people dumping shovels full of fresh cow shit on the heads of their neighbors.  If you look different you are condemned.  If you act different you are condemned.  If you believe different you are condemned.  And each act of judgment is another shovel full of cow shit dumped out on the head of someone else.

You know, there really is no other way to say it.  I apologize for the language but I have spent my whole life around cows and I know shit.  I have stepped in it; I have shoveled it; and I have had the unfortunate opportunity to taste it.  So I know it well.  And what I see people in this world handing out is nasty, smelly, shit; a waste by-product intended to cause harm and humiliation.

Think about all the wars going on right now in our world: Christians versus Muslims versus Jews; Republicans versus Democrats; Straights versus Gays; Creationists versus Evolutionists; and of course Real Musicians versus Justin Bieber.  And in all of them I see nothing but a bunch of selfish idiots standing in a cow field with shovels.  Well, maybe the anti-Bieber folks are right, but the rest of us are throwing cow shit.

And why do we go to war?  What do we have to gain from warring with our neighbors?

I do believe that we can find truth in this world.  I do believe there is right and wrong.  And if I am honest I would tell you that what I believe is absolute truth and if you disagree with me then you are wrong.  Really, I am that selfish.  But why do I go to war with you over what I believe?  Why must I let what I believe get in the way of us sharing life together.  There is something deep there that is at work against us.

It could be pride at work.  It could be arrogance rising up.  It could be brokenness raging inside.  More than likely it is a combination of these and many other issues.  But I know my rage, and I know where it comes from.

Every one of us is broken and wounded.  There is no escaping this in our fallen world.  The curse is real, and we have been bit by the snake tempting us with the apple.  And how does a broken wounded child react?  With a screaming rage that causes everyone in the store to turn their heads to see who the parents of this tantrum throwing child is. 

You know the scene.  You are in the grocery store and you turn the corner to go down the cereal aisle and there you see lying on the floor a red-faced, three year old, kicking the tile and screaming out how horrible the offense is being committed against them.  And my favorite ending is when the Mom or Dad bends down to the child and asks calmly, “Where are your parents?”  Then they grab the cart and race away while the stunned child looks up in disbelief.  

But that is how it is in most of these world wars.  The child wants Fruit Loops, and the parent is only willing to buy Cheerios.  And they are not even willing to buy the name brand cereal; they buy generic.  We want everyone to look like us; act like us; believe like us; and if they don’t, then we react like that offended child.  The child wants everyone else to be hurt and wounded just as they feel inside.  The child demands justice for their wounds.

I want it.  I demand it.  I see someone getting a raise they didn't earn; I want justice.  I see someone getting a new house, or a new car that I can’t afford; I want justice.  I see someone abusing a child and I want justice.  I see someone humiliating another and I want justice.  The rage inside me explodes and I scream out to be heard.  Aren't we all like that at times?

But how can you choose to live a life of justice?  Always calling for and seeking to see those who have what you want, those that rape and murder, those who steal and torture come to pay for the wounding of your heart.  To do so means you must live according to the law.  Nothing less is possible.  Nothing less than perfection and holiness is permissible.  To live a life of justice means that you must be just yourself.  Because if you are not just, you are condemned as a hypocrite.  To be the one to call for the vengeance of God to rain down on the masses who sin means that you must be more Godly than the Creator of the universe.  

Who of us can stand in that place?  We are all hypocrites.  We are all impostors.  And do you realize that to try to stand in that place shows an arrogance that is as great as the arrogance of lucifer himself.  Remember that to call for the vengeance of God to rain on the unjust is to call for that horrible vengeance to rain upon your own head.  So what then is our choice?

To live in the realm of grace is our only hope.  There we don't have to be perfect.  In this realm we don't have to be healed.  We can walk through this world showing grace to ourselves and grace to others.  In this realm we come to understand that everyone on this rock is in the same condition.  We can all be walking wounded.  Our scars can be badges of honor showing the glorious nature of Jesus who walks with us.  So we are able to seek out and call forth Grace to flood our hearts and the hearts of those in our communities.  We can choose to live a life of love instead of vengeance.  We can live a life of freedom instead of death.

How would our world be different if we washed the feet of those who were different than us?  What peace would we find if instead of seeking justice and separating ourselves from others, we showed them love and invited them to share life?  Our differences are what make us beautiful.  Our scars are a part of our story and that story needs to be told.  We need to stop fearing others and learn to embrace others.  This doesn't mean that you have to give up what you believe.  It means that you don’t let what you believe get in the way of showing the world love.

We have been given the opportunity to live a life of communion.  A life of grace is a life alive.  Yes there is pain, yes there is suffering, but this life is real and full of joy.  A life of justice is really just a zombie life, and those who dwell there are just staggering through the world until their flesh is buried six feet down.

It’s your choice, justice or grace.  It cannot be both.  You can only live in one realm.  So which do you choose?