Tag Archives: Counseling

Courageously Committing

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 “The moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred… unforeseen incidents, meetings, and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way.”  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

 

 

Meaningful decisions that lead to personal transformation begin with courageous commitment and are brought to completion with burning desire and determined dedication.  This is one of the most important principles a person can learn in life. Many people wait for God to move and then they act. We have found at the Center for Christian Life Enrichment (CLE) that having the faith to risk stepping out into the unknown triggers the collaborative assistance of God.

 

Living by faith demands that we take risks and are willing to live our lives as an adventure in learning. Carol Dweck’s research on living with a growth mindset says that if we are not taking risks and making mistakes then we are not learning to our capacity. For some, learning came to a halt when they stopped going to school. I believe God designed us to be lifelong learners. We need to be living our lives in such a way that we are continually learning and growing. Taking risks, making mistakes, and incorporating the lessons learned is the formula for expanding faith and living increasingly fruitful lives.

 

I think of the growth mindset as the foundation for living by faith, recognizing that God is more concerned about our development and maturation than He is in us getting everything right. God is not a neurotic perfectionistic control-freak who is obsessed with us doing everything correctly. Instead, I believe God is a guide, mentor, coach, teacher and father who wants us to learn, grow, risk, and make mistakes in the pursuit of learning and living an abundant life. His plan is that we live courageously and learn from our mistakes as we become like His son, Jesus.

 

I have been inspired by the testimony of this courageous teenager whose speech I shared in my last blog post (Celebrating Courage and Commitment). Her dedication to learn and grow is highlighted by the fact that when she went out for cross country as a freshman in high school, she was out of shape and had never run competitively. She saw her life as an adventure and she wanted more. She knew she needed something and she understood that it was her responsibility to go out and get it. She wasn’t waiting for life to come to her. Somehow, she understood that it was her job to take risks and pursue opportunities.

 

She identified that distance running was interesting and valuable and she went out for the team. She knew she was inexperienced and was not unusually gifted athletically. Her success was the result of her initial commitment, her ongoing dedication and practice, her care for and investment in her teammates, and the support of her team and community. She led with her hunger and her character instead of her talent. She was quickly recognized as a leader and contributor on the team even though she was never one of the top atheletes.

 

This story is especially touching to me because I have lived with the mistaken belief that only those who are the best athletically are winners. My value as a human being has been a function of a host of external measures of success. For me, historically my success has been an illusive prey. When I first competed in a sport, my worth and value depended on whether I made the team. Once I made the team, the issue then became whether I would earn a starting position. Once I became a starter, then the question was whether I would earn all-league honors. If I made all league, then the concern would be whether I earned all state honors.  The measurement of my worth and value continued to move beyond what I could ever achieve. The net result was at some point I would fail to reach the goal and achieve the recognition. Was I now a failure?

 

All of these goals share the quality of having an external locus of control. They are all outside of the person and represent some form of external accomplishment and validation. The issue is not what you yourself value; instead, the issue becomes what those outside of you decide are the measures of success. Those objectives, like the rabbit at the dog track, eventually end up being beyond our grasp.

 

What inspires me in this story is that this young lady may have never won a race. Her last race was a PR (short, for personal record time). Her best time may never have resulted in her placing in a race. What then was she running for?  Instead of winning, she was competing. Instead of being the best, she was working hard. Instead of being the star, she was more interested in serving the team. She led from the pack instead of from the front. She earned her position as team captain based on her character as well as her commitment to the well being of her teammates.

 

This young lady is an inspirational transformational leader.  She is learning the power of living from principles instead of from performance. She is learning how to experience the joy and nourishment resulting from living true to her heart’s desires.

Celebrating Courage and Commitment

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(This speech was written by the daughter of one of our CLE families. She is a senior at a local high school and was delivering this speech to her Cross Country teammates, parents and coaches at their end of season banquet. I hope you are inspired by her intitiative, courage, dedication and leadership. Her parents have paved the way through their own dedication to personal transformation for her to truly excel and flourish in life.)

  Four years, 196 practices, 36 races. For the four-year seniors here, that is what we have completed. It feels like forever, and has flown by at the same time. It has been an unforgettable experience that has done so much to shape me into who I am today. That is why, after crossing the finish line for the last time at the confer- ence race, I burst into tears. I had just had the best race of my life. At every turn there were my coaches, my teammates and my parents cheering for me. Ari my running buddy, was by my side, like always, silently rooting me on. I consciously refused to let fear enter my thoughts during a race for the first time I can remember. Instead I focused on how strong I felt, how strong the past four years had made me.

And now it’s over. This is the end of something great. I can only hope that in the future each of us can find something that we can once again love so fiercely, dedicate ourselves to so completely and can push us so hard and let us grow so much. And can most importantly, give us the gift of an amazing community, full of people who lift each other up to reach their individual goals. This is what Cross Country has done for me. It turned me from a shy, out of shape freshman who could barely run a half-mile on my first day, into a competitive runner and a captain who is surrounded by a massive group of girls whom I love. These girls have celebrated with me in my accomplishments, consoled me in my frustrations and pushed me to do things I never thought I could.

I had the time of my life with all of you and will always treasure the memories we made. But the Cross Country era will never end. While the season may, the spirit of the team will live on within each of us. Thank you for an incredible four years that will live on forever.

Hope Deferred Makes the Heart Sick

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“Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” Matthew 7:7,8

 

 

 

My adventure of writing my first book was nearing the finish line. I had an editor with a prestigious publishing house presenting Grappling with God to his editorial committee. I could taste it. He told me that on Monday they would discuss my proposal and get back to me right away. I was so excited and hopeful. I began allowing myself to anticipate success. I felt like a kid on the days leading up to Christmas.

 

Monday came and went. I noticed how I was making up all kinds of stories to explain why my editor hadn’t gotten back to me. “The meeting ran late and there was no time to call me,” or “They needed more time to draw up the contract.” Tuesday passed and I started feeling a low-grade concern. I started wondering whether I had misunderstood the date or that possibly they had had to postpone the meeting. I was afraid to call and find out. I didn’t want to come off too pushy, too needy, or too excited. I didn’t want to upset or offend him. I didn’t want to know.

 

I was getting more and more restless. I started searching the social media sites to see if I could find out where he was and what he was doing. Sure enough, I discovered he was in Germany at the Frankfurt Book Fair. I experienced some relief knowing that he was out of the country. I fantasized he was pitching my book at the world’s largest and most prestigious book fair? Maybe, he wasn’t able to be at the committee meeting and they were not able to discuss Grappling with God?

 

It was now ten days later. I couldn’t rationalize waiting and hiding out any longer. I carefully crafted an email and sent it to him. A short time later I received his email apologizing for not getting back to me sooner and explaining that the committee had decided not to publish my book. I was so disappointed and in a state of shock.

 

It was as if I was playing football and someone had just knocked the wind out of me. I found myself feeling embarrassed, looking around to see if anyone knew that I had been rejected again. I told myself that I had to pick myself up and act as if nothing had happened. I immediately threw myself into plan B, sending an email to a highly regarded literary agent who had agreed to represent me if this publishing company rejected my book.  I was determined to not let this get me down.

 

Underneath my can-do attitude, I was really hurting. I felt all the painful feelings at once, as if I was tasting ing an emotional fruit smoothie. It was several hours later, as I was driving to work that I realized I was angry. I found myself building a case against the editor for how unprofessional and unkind it was to not have contacted me when he knew ten days earlier.

 

I am happy to say that I was conscious of my reactivity and aware of the grieving process I was going through. I knew I was experiencing the loss of my book being rejected again. As I found myself building a case against the editor and making him bad, I knew that he was not the problem—I was hurt and disappointed. It was no ones fault. I was having a hard time admitting to myself that I was hurt. I wanted to blame instead of feel. I wanted to try and regain a sense of being in control.

 

The next morning I was in my CLE pastors group and sharing with the pastors my disappointment. One of them interrupted my story and asked me why I never called the acquisition editor on Monday. It was as if the scales fell from my eyes. I suddenly grasped that I had authored my suffering. I was not a victim. In that moment, I understood that on the surface I didn’t call him sooner because I was afraid to appear too excited or too pushy and risk offending him. The deeper truth was that I was afraid to find out what the decision was. I was more comfortable waiting and magically hoping that they would choose my book.

 

I saw how I was operating as a child. Fearing I was too much, as a young boy I learned how to muffle and mute my hunger and enthusiasm. I learned how to manage others and make every effort to please them. I lost myself and was hiding out behind a mask of inauthenticity. For years I had been hiding my hurt and mastering the art of covering up my genuine thoughts and feelings.

The truth had set me free. Writing the book was tough—trying to get it published was an even more threatening challenge. Naturally, I wanted it to be easy. I wanted to be chosen. I wanted to feel special. God wanted to wrestle with me—to use this opportunity to revitalize our relationship and teach me what it means to live by faith. THe abundant life offered by God is lived authentically and courageously  in the here and now.

The Authority of Authenticity

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The people were amazed at his teaching, because he taught them as one who had authority, not as the teachers of the law. (Mark 1:27)

 

I want my life to have meaning and my words to have impact.  “Greater works than these shall we do,” promises Jesus. What is my greater work?

 

Jesus had a presence that caused others to stop, look, and listen to what he was saying. I believe one of the critical qualities that bolstered Jesus’ personal power was his authenticity. Jesus was genuine. You may not have liked what he was saying; however, I believe you would have been compelled to wrestle with what he said. Grappling with truth does not guarantee following it. Like many, you might have chosen to deny and dismiss what he said.

 

Jesus’ parable of the soils (Mt. 13) teaches that the seeds of truth often don’t fall on good soil and bear fruit.  Truth sown does not guarantee truth grown. It is not sufficient to simply sow seeds of truth—the truth sown needs to be watered, fertilized, and cultivated. Listening and digesting truth requires intention and courage. It demands character to be willing to be disturbed by the gap between where you are and where you want to be. It takes faith to live in the not knowing—to refuse the comfort felt when we hide behind the façade of certainty.

 

Jesus radiated the penetrating property of unconflicted truth spoken from a heart of integrity. Jesus was all in, sold out, and absolutely dedicated to living the message he preached. His message was truth and his life was about love; loving his Father and loving each of us. Jesus knew there could be no love without truth. His words were truth spoken in love. His truth satisfied the hunger of a heart longing for love and authenticity.

 

Jesus also understood that to grow we much know the truth about ourselves; however, maybe the most important element to growth was the context in which the truth was shared. The ideal conditions for growth are authentic relationships. It is the living and being together moment-by-moment that promotes to the seeds of truth sown finding their way to the good soil. The transforming power is in our authenticity lived out existentially—moment by moment in the here and now of life.

 

Who are you, really? What do you feel so passionate about that you are willing to take a stand for? How often do you give in to the urge to conform instead of express your truest self? Too often we alter personas or positions, like a chameleon switches colors, attempting to blend in with our environment. We give in to being spectators instead of prophets—those who hide out in the stands don’t run the risk of getting hurt in the game.

 

We all fear rejection and want to fit in and at times do everything possible to avoid standing out and risking being seen. We are all tempted to take the shortcut of conformity rather than risk the rejection that may come when we tell the truth. Many of us numb our aliveness so that we don’t risk thinking outside the box. We don’t want to admit having any seditious thoughts that would disturb the guardians of the status quo.

 

Patricia Raybon speaks of her struggle with being authentic in her book, My First White Friend: Confessions on Race, Love and Forgiveness. Raybon writes, “So my hair was ironed and my speech was clipped and my manners were bound and chaste and perfect. Thus I was comfortable to them—but a stranger to myself. That “self” was pushed so far down behind my façade she had nearly perished, suffocated under the weight of my duplicity.”

 

I identify so strongly with her desperate hunger to fit in that was waging war with her need to be genuine and live true to herself. The cost of conformity is that we become strangers to ourselves. We end up forgetting who we really are because we are so accustomed to being our adapted self. Our false self, that social chameleon, lives at the level of survival, striving simply to fit in.

 

How many of us feel with Patricia, that we are being crushed under the weight of our duplicity? Hearing the word duplicity gives me an ache in my soul. I am painfully aware of how two-faced I am. Too often I choose the path of comfort and safety instead of choosing courageously to live in integrity and express what is true for me

 

It is time for you to come out. Discover the authentic you. Experience what you feel and express what you believe—affirm what is true for you in the moment. We all need to uncover what is most true about us and sow our seeds broadly. Strive for authenticity in pursuit of integrity. Choose to engage authentically as you live in community. When you are living authentically and expressing responsibly you will be agents of transformation.