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Inside my brain is a part of my imagination that sometimes wishes I were born with magical powers and could attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is the same part of my brain that wishes I were in a Meg Ryan movie from the 90s or a heroine in a Jane Austen novel.
Most of the time, however, I beat that part of my imagination into submission and force it to only come out on special occasions. Like Wednesday afternoons. Or while I'm drinking a Diet Dr. Pepper.
But honestly, I do have to try not to focus on fantasy and fictional happiness very often. Imagination is a wonderful thing, but left to its own devices, it can end up being a way to escape from reality and turn into a crutch that turns into a wheelchair that turns into a bed where you never get up and do anything real.
It's especially easy to fall into an imagined world when you're in one of life's valleys. Until recently, whenever I imagined the ups and downs of life, I pictured it to be like a roller coaster. You have fast ups, followed by fast downs. But as soon as you hit bottom, you go right back up. I'm realizing that life is not like that. Ups and downs are much more gradual and the downs often last longer than expected. Life is made mainly of plateaus. Plateaus in the good parts of life and the bad parts.
I've been in the down part of life for several weeks now. Now, I realize that my down is nothing compared to the majority of the world. I've had it pretty easy. It's easy for me to fuss at myself and wonder why I'm whining--but then I remember that pain and suffering is relative. But then I also remember that the valleys are where soil is the most fertile (I heard that in a movie somewhere I think. Cliche but true.).
So this is where the imagination comes in handy. Yes, life has its down parts. But I like to imagine that I'm driving a 1968 red convertible Mustang through the valley. I'm blaring happy music as I drive. And the passenger seat is full of flowers of all types and in every color.
As I drive by others in the valley, I hand them a flower and we listen to the music together and talk about what brought us to the valley. When we part ways, we feel a little better just having someone to talk to. And who wouldn't feel better after receiving their very own flower?
So I guess that the imagination can be helpful. But like all things, in moderation. Always in moderation.
When I worked at a summer camp in high school and college, the only place nearby to go shopping was the Wal-Mart. One Saturday I was standing in line behind an old married couple. They had gray hair, were stooped over with age and never said a word to each other while in line. The husband was giving their merchandise to the cashier while the wife stood a few feet back, holding a single red rose in her hands.
The entire time she was in line, she kept smelling the rose and then looking at it with the most content smile on her face I have ever seen. Her look was full of memories. Memories of all the roses she had been given in the past. From the first rose her husband gave her at a school dance, to the roses she received when their first child was born, and the single rose he buys her on occasion "just because." Those memories and the simple pleasure of the single stem in her hand made her face glow as though she had been given a dozen roses with a diamond ring in the center of one. But it was just a single rose.
Her husband took the rose from her so they could pay for it, but then gave it right back. I don't know whether she picked it up herself or not, but the pure joy in her face makes me think that her husband picked it out just for her. My imagination (and not-so-hidden romantic side) likes to think that she was holding just one of the hundreds of roses he had given her over the years. And no matter how many more she'd be given, she would always show that much pleasure in a single rose given to her by her beloved.
I love flowers more than just about anything in the world. I hope that someday I meet a man who will buy me flowers for special occasions and "just because." But even more, I hope that no matter how many flowers I'm given, I never lose that look of pleasure like the woman in the Wal-Mart checkout lane.
I was once standing in a prayer circle and the guy I was holding hands with said he could feel the cynicism from holding my hand coursing through him. He was being somewhat facetious, but I’m fully aware that I have been labeled cynical by others. I’ve also been called pragmatic, logical and pessimistic. I don’t mind pragmatic or logical, but these things still bring to mind a couple questions:
Where is the balance between logic and cynicism? Is it possible to be a hopeful cynic?
My natural inclination is to be a hopeless and over-emotional romantic. I get my feelings hurt and my self-esteem gets a daily kick in the face. I want to meet my own Mr. Darcy (or Miles) someday and I wouldn’t mind if it all happened like one of my favorite romantic comedies. I’d like a cottage in the mountains with a garden, a nice breeze through open windows, and a bike to ride into town. But experience has taught me that this is highly unlikely.
Somewhat jokingly, I have said that my mantra is to have low expectations for everything. If they’re met, then I'm not disappointed. And if they’re surpassed, then I'm pleasantly surprised. Is that cynical or logical? Pessimistic or realistic? I hope all my expectations are surpassed, but I’m fully aware they probably won’t be.
I know that true joy comes from the Lord and He will fulfill my needs. But what I’m talking about is not necessarily joy. I think it’s completely possible to be joyful in the here and now, while being logical about tomorrow. And I guess that’s what I’m trying to find the balance of: Being joyful now, while striving to steer away from cynicism about the future. Learning to actually be joyful right now, and not let cynicism about the future taint the present.
I absolutely believe that God has my best interests in mind and He will give me everything I need in this life to be joyful and do His work. But I believe we often get this confused with thinking God will give us everything we think we need, and thinking we need it because we really, really want it. And most of the time, these things aren’t bad things to want or feel like we need. I’m not talking about 72” flatscreen TVs or a new MacBook. I’m talking about marriage or children or a job you don’t hate. As someone in her mid-20s, I’m surrounded by people getting married and having children. So the common phrase I hear is that it will happen someday for me (and my other single friends). Says who? Show me where it says I am guaranteed a husband and children. It’s common to see women much older than I who are still waiting for a family (why this is true could be a whole other blog entry, but I’ll abstain).
And I’m not just talking about marriage, but smaller everyday things. When someone suggests something like going on a road trip, I’m fully aware it will never happen. People (including myself) rarely follow through with their ideas, no matter now enthusiastic they are in the beginning. So when someone comes up with a brilliant and fun idea, or they promise to do something, I file it away and never bank on it happening. I certainly hope it will happen, but aware that it probably never will.
So am I just being logical and realistic, or am I a cynic? Is this attitude perfectly fine and I just need to stop dwelling on it and let life happen? Or should I let my natural inclination run wild and start buying wedding magazines, move to the mountains and apply for a loan to buy a bookstore? Even as I type that sentence, I can’t help but feel I’d be setting myself up for disappointment.
In the end, I cannot know what the future holds for me. I can only strive to do God’s will for my life and learn to be the person He wants me to be. But does anyone out there have any thoughts to add? Do you think it’s possible to be too logical and miss out on the joys of life? Is cynicism a sin, or just a safe attitude to keep disappointment at bay?
You have made known to me the path of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence, with eternal pleasures at your right hand.
~Psalm 16:11
I was in Richmond this weekend visiting some friends from college who moved there to start an inner-city ministry. Part of their ministry is actually living in the inner city and becoming involved in the lives of those they meet. To do this, they go to a community church that was started by two other churches in the area. I don’t know all the details of the church or its people, but as I walked into the service on Sunday afternoon, I saw a picture of what the Church should look like: Not just one color and not just one economic demographic and not just one age.
The message was given by a camp director and something he said really stuck with me. I’m paraphrasing, but he said “The world will not change when they see Christians prosper. The world will change when they see Christians rejoicing through suffering.”
Most Christians agree that the ‘Prosperity Gospel’ is a bunch of malarkey. But how often do we buy into our own version of the prosperity Gospel? We feel entitled to the American dream of a nice home, two kids and a steady job. It’s our right to be able to eat every meal and to be healthy and live until we're 99. And when any of those things are tested, we begin to wonder “Why me?” We’ve bought into the American mantra that living the easy life is the right of every person, rather than remembering that we were told we would suffer—it comes with the territory of being in this world but not of this world. Paul even tells us to suffer for the Gospel (Romans 8:17 and 2 Timothy 1:8) and in 1 Corinthians we are told to bless and endure suffering (4:12-13) even when we are hungry and clothed in rags.
Does this mean we can’t be sad or upset when we suffer? Of course not! Read the Psalms and you’ll find it’s full of the cries of people who are suffering. The problem lies in expecting to never suffer and then being upset and affronted when we do.
As I chewed on what the speaker said, I was reminded of the incident a few years ago when a man entered an Amish school in Pennsylvania and murdered several children and then shot himself. A few girls who didn’t die suffered injuries that will affect them the rest of their lives. Most people would take this chance to become angry and the world would say they are justified. Instead, that Amish community used the funds that people donated to help the family of the man who did this horrible thing. They offered forgiveness and reached out to others, and that’s what the country remembered.
Shouldn’t that also be the testimony of Christians? Even though we suffer, we rejoice. Even when we live in a world going through an economic crisis, we praise God for His blessings. And then, the world will know us by our joy in Christ and our joy in suffering.
I haven't been a "grownup" for very long. But please don't take that as an excuse to stop reading, because what does someone in their mid-twenties know about life? I admit, not a lot. But I'll tell you one thing I've been learning during the last six or so years since I left home.
Parents are people too!
Okay, I've known that all along. My mom turned 52 yesterday and every time my parents celebrate some sort of milestone (birthday or anniversary), it gets me thinking about how my perception of them has changed and how they've changed. It's been interesting to look at them from "the outside in." They never went out while my brother and I were kids and they never made random weekend trips to the beach. They didn't go on cruises or go out for ice cream or go to plays.
It's been sweet to see how they're able to do things together now and have fun with just the two of them (although I must admit that I become jealous whenever they go on some fabulous vacation that we never got to do as a family...but that's okay). It's nice to see my dad take my mom to see plays, even though The Music Man is the one and only musical he'll ever voluntarily watch. Or for my mom to call and say they're going on a treasure hunt and then find out it's because they just left the theater after watching National Treasure 2.
Although my parents (just like everyone else) are far from perfect, seeing their relationship offers a view of what I hope to have in 30 or so years with my own spouse. I don't have a spouse or a prospective spouse on the horizon, so it's a blessing to witness my parents and hope that I have the chance to experience this same sort of joy in the future.
The whole world seems to be in a bad mood. And I can't really blame them. As excited as I am to see January 20, 2009 come, this election season seems to be dragging on endlessly as everyone waits to see which Democrat will finally win the nomination and as we try to figure out if McCain will just be another Bush. Add that to a falling economy, rising gas prices and rising food prices and it's the perfect recipe for a bad mood.
And that's just in the U.S. The rising cost of food is crippling other countries and a cyclone in Myanmar just killed 22,000+ people. The war in Iraq keeps dragging on and the situations in Zimbabwe and Sudan don't seem to be improving. What a world.
Joy has always been a concept that I had a hard time with. I remember in high school, my church's pastor (not the same church I attend now) was dealing with a rebellious daughter. His other daughter had always been involved with the youth group at our church (she's a few years older) and acted as a sort of mentor to the girls. And amidst these sad circumstances she was always smiling and full of joy. My friend and I asked her how she always seemed happy and her answer was quite simple: She chose joy. So simple to say but excruciatingly hard to do. I've heard it said that happiness is based on circumstances and joy is based on attitude. This is when I wish God loved lists as much as I do. Then he could have given me a five-step process to being joyful:
1. Eat chocolate
2. Pray the exact prayer found in 2 Hesitations 3:14
3. Take two ibuprofen
4. Drink a margarita
5. Pray the prayer again and voila! Joy!
But our God is not a God of lists or five-step processes or 40 days to a new you. He's a God that wants us to pray and delight in Him. I just started reading Desiring God last night for the first time (I know, I know--it's a classic. But I'm slow on the non-fiction reading). I had heard the concept of Christian hedonism before and I had heard John Piper being quoted as saying "God is most glorified when we are most satisfied in Him." But in these trying times (both in my own life and in the world around me), it rang more true than ever before.
A few weeks ago I was reading a blog and the author had a link to some of her music she'd recorded. The first song she linked to was "Weight of Joy." I put this song on repeat, downloaded it and then played in on repeat for two weeks. It's such a simple song but has such a profound message. It basically says that sometime during life she (I) was juggling and struggling with everything, and she dropped God's joy in order to "make room" for other things. "Relieved of its weight I trudged forever on, but the absence of joy had transferred to a burden on my heart." She continues on until she ends her journey on her face. God finds her "hollow and alone" and He gets down on His knees and hands her joy.
He gets down on His holy knees and handed her joy.
I'm not saying I'm depressed and on the verge of a breakdown. I'm nowhere near that. But reading the news and hearing about the struggles in the lives of others and in my own life--it can be burdensome and it's easy to drop God's joy. So many questions about the future and what this means or what that means or trying to ignore loneliness or trying to learn about a God who can seem so distant--it can all be overwhelming. But through it all, He's right there, whispering softly in my ear "My child you dropped this back there" and He hands me joy.
Psalm 37:4-6
Delight yourself in the LORD
and he will give you the desires of your heart.
Commit your way to the LORD;
trust in him and he will do this:
He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn,
the justice of your cause like the noonday sun.
Inside my brain is a part of my imagination that sometimes wishes I were born with magical powers and could attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. This is the same part of my brain that wishes I were in a Meg Ryan movie from the 90s or a heroine in a Jane Austen novel.
