I didn't recognize it, but for years the strength of my faith was connected to the success of my plans. When life was going according to plan - MY plan - I would shout God's praises. If it wasn't, God was nowhere to be found.
When God is nowhere to be found, it's NOT because God isn't there, it's because I'm not looking for him. I'm not entirely sure why my faith operated that way. Maybe I pictured God as a success story, so when my plans succeeded, I felt comfortable inviting God to the celebration. But when they weren't successful, I made sure God didn't get associated with my failure. It's also possible that when my plans failed, I saw myself as a failure, and I was fearful of God seeing me that way too. Today, I know better than ever that God is not success and God is not failure - God is God. When I made God a function of my plans, I made me God. When my plans worked out - I thanked God for helping out. When my plans failed - I pretended God was out of town while the ship went down. Good or bad, life was always my fault. And either way, I was always bigger than God. That made for a really small God. Steven Furtick says, "I need the kind of faith that is not dependent on my own plans to prevail. I need the kind of faith that can stand up against the worst thing that happens." One way I would describe the last few years of my life is sinking ships. Another way I would describe them is: big God. At some point, when one of my ships was sinking, I took a chance and gave God a call. And surprise surprise, he wasn't out of town after all. In fact, he told me he was glad I called. He'd grown weary of watching me go down with my ships. When we call God while the ship is sinking, we eventually discover God is not a life preserver, God is life. God is life in every season. In dark and in light, in success and in failure. Our lives often go up and down, which makes it easy to start believing God goes up and down. God doesn't go up and down. God is always life. With a single breath He created life. With every single breath we take in response to our creation, God is reminding us he is STILL life. When we lose sight of that truth, it's often because we've made our plans our God. It's often because we've made ourselves God. That makes for a really small God; one completely unable to stand up against sinking ships.
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There's a scene early in Top Gun Maverick when one of the trainees wonders out loud how the less advanced plane he will be flying in an upcoming mission can compete with the enemy's advanced aircraft.
Tom Cruise - like only Tom Cruise can - reminds him, "it's not the plane, it's the pilot." I reflected on that this weekend. We live in a world constantly searching for the next advancement - that innovation that will set us apart. One that will make us safer or faster or better or all of the above. To date, though, we haven't advanced beyond the human variable. At the end of every advancement - it's still the pilot, not the plane. Granted, there are a lot of advancements that leave us better equipped to do life in a more advanced way, but nothing advances beyond a human's capacity to manage it - to trust in it - to believe they are the right person to get their hands on that advancement. I think about running shoes. They've come a long way. But put them on the feet of a runner who hasn't come a long way with their training - those shoes become useless. And, on the other hand, I know a lot of runners out there who train in their bare feet. Runners who can outrun a lot of advanced shoes. I think one of the problems we have in our culture is a lot of us have forgotten it's not the pilot, it's the plane. There are a lot of us sitting around wishing for the perfect plane to come along to solve our problems, when if we'd simply believe just how well we could pilot the planes we already have - well, problem solved. Late in the movie, there's a scene where Tom Cruise begins questioning his own chances in a fight scene while flying an inferior plane. That trainee Cruise had once encouraged turns the tables. He says to Cruise, "remember, it's not the plane, it's the pilot." It's Monday. I want to start this week with a reminder - it's not the plane, it's the pilot. And you - you are a much better pilot than you give yourself credit for. Sure, there are a lot of people out there with fancier equipment - maybe they have fancier everything. But they are NOT you. And you can make up for the lack of a lot of fancy equipment. Be reminded of that this week. You ARE the pilot. And I for one believe in you. And if you get a chance, return that favore to someone else this week. Remind them: "Remember, it's not the plane, it's the pilot." Sometimes, I don't think the idea of heaven serves us well. This place of no more complications, no more pain, no more tears. When we think of heaven, we can get to believing that's what life will be like when we finally get to meet God.
No more complications. No more pain. No more tears. For some of us, that can become the picture we have of God - no more complications, no more pain, no more tears. I don't think that's an inaccurate picture of God; he is all of those things. But if we aren't careful, we can come to see God as a God of solutions and not the God in our complications. We can miss God in our questions while we're begging him to show up as an answer. When life gets hard, we can find ourselves impatiently waiting for God to show up instead of celebrating the truth that he is already there. In Matthew chapter 11:28-30 we read: “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” We read "come to me" - not "wait for me". We read "learn from me" in the burden - not trust you'll see my light once the burden is gone. I believe in heaven. I believe it will be the paradise I like to imagine it will be. But I also believe some measure of the joy I experience there will be tied to the joy I was able to experience in my complications here on earth. It will be tied to how often I was able to see the God in the problems that I often show up to thank only when the problems are gone. As if burdens are something I tackle on my own; solutions are a heavenly gift from God. Come to me all who are weary and burdened.... There's an incredible God waiting for us in the complications. Don't miss meeting him there. Don't miss meeting him there while you're waiting to meet him in heaven. 6/3/2022 0 Comments Instead of what?There is a lot of talk about phones and how they overwhelm us with information. But what if the greater damage isn't the information the phone feeds us, but the information the phone is denying us.
Because when we are taking something in, we are leaving something out. It is sometimes alarming to me on Sunday when my weekly screen time notification pops up. It tells me how much time I spent on Facebook last week and on Youtube and on my bank app watching my money like it's going to magically appear or disappear any second now. That notification can be alarming. But it might be even more alarming if I thought of it in terms of what I was NOT taking in while I was engaged with my screen. I like Facebook. But Facebook can quickly transition from checking in on my friends to checking out of the world. It can quickly transition from offering a post I hope will feed good to someone else's world to reading endless posts that upset my world. And before long, I'm sucked into the process like I don't have a choice in the matter. But I do have a choice in the matter. Steven Furtick talks about a cycle where we intake information that disrupts our peace and then we ask God to come into our lives to bring us peace. We enter an endless cycle of asking God to take out what we are taking in. What if God's peace became more about spending more time taking in God intstead of pestering God to remove the things I've taken in that disrupt my peace? Maybe the harm isn't the nature of Facebook or video games or the music we listen to. Maybe the disruption of peace is in the 'instead of.' Instead of spending time reading my bible. Instead of going for a walk in the woods to focus on God's creation. Instead of sitting quietly in prayer, giving God time to put on my heart what he wants there instead of the screen time. If we aren't feeling peaceful, maybe it's not totally because life is unpeaceful. Maybe part of it is we're taking in anxiety instead of peace. When my screen time report pops up Sunday, I'm going to save my alarm and simply ask - instead of what? Many years ago, I wrote an article called "Good Dads Stay." If you read the article, you would have concluded an alternative title for the article could have been "Bad Dads Don't Stay."
The article was full of not so silent judgment. Judgment shaped by the fact I had a dad who stayed. Judgment shaped by years of working with teens who had a lot of struggles that I strongly correlated to fathers who were absent in those kids' lives. And, the truth is, it was largely shaped by one side of a cultural narrative. Then, just a couple of years ago, I wrote an article about leaving my marriage. The dad who wrote about good dads staying was now writing about the dad who was leaving. It was the hardest article I've ever shared. Not because of what I was doing, but because of what I perceived I was being - a hypocrite. I'm sure my fear of being called a hypocrite kept me in my marriage longer than I would have been if I hadn't written that article. And in the end, I'll always wonder if that wasn't more unhealthy for my boys than me staying. Because what I've come to know, in the end we've come to define too many issues as right or wrong, good or bad - when the right question is 'healthy' or 'not healthy' for the people involved. It's about doing what is best, and that isn't always in perfect alignment with what one side of a narrative has defined as right. I still believe it's a really healthy thing if kids can grow up with two parents in their home. But I've also come to know there are a lot of really healthy kids and adults who didn't have that. And a lot of really unhealthy kids and adults who did. I am grateful. In the aftermath of writing the article about leaving, very few people called me out for being a hypocrite. But not everyone is so lucky. There are a lot of people who change. They change because they learn - they evolve - they come to see that right might not be what is healthiest or best. But many times, these people who have been publicly scolded for their stands, get publicly labeled as hypocrites when they change their stands. Meanwhile, a lot of people who are in the midst of their own potential evolution are watching. And growing fearful of being called hypocrites themselves. I spent a lot of years clinging to some views I no longer have today. Often, they were views I clung to because of the approval I got from the folks clinging to them with me, and to fight off the noise of folks clinging to something else on the other side of the room. I changed when I left the room. When I sat down and started having quiet conversations with people who wanted to talk about healthy and best and not right and wrong. Often times, with people who had been judged by people like me while I was being "right" and they were being "wrong." I changed when I realized a lot of damage was being done while I clung to right. I changed when I realized a lot of damage was being done while I hid from being called a hypocrite. I changed when I left the fray and started talking to a lot of people who weren't fortunate enough to have a say in the fray. But I'm not everyone. There are a lot of people who have changed but have backed themselved into the corner of the fray with articles they've written about bad dads. And there are also a lot of people we unknowingly keep pinned in the fray with all the noise. I do wish the world would have more quiet conversations about healthy and less volatile conversations about right and wrong. I think in the end there would be far less hypocrisy and far more change. And far more healthy. Because in the end, I've personally discovered the 'right' choice isn't always the healthiest choice. This past weekend, I virtually monitored the Capital Backyard Ultra just up to the north of me in Lorton, Virginia. For my non-runner friends, the format of this running race is this:
All runners line up together at a starting line. They have 1 hour to complete a 4.17 mile circuit. If they do, they get to line up and start again the next hour for another 4.17 mile circuit. If they don't complete it, they are out of the race. The winner is the runner still standing when all the others have said, I can't do one more circuit. I was in awe of one of the women in this race - Jennifer Russo. As the hours ticked away, there she was. Still starting the next loop. Until she was lined up for the 60th loop - 60 hours and 250 miles away from the race's official starting line. That would ultimately be Ms. Russo's final loop; she was the next to the last runner standing. I was in awe of her time and distance. But more - Russo is 56 years old. Like - that's in MY age group. In fact, two of the runners who finished in the top ten were over 50; all of them were over 40. Over 40 is NOT your typical peak for anything athletic. But it does seem to be true of these running endurance events. I spent some time thinking about that this weekend. I think one of the main reasons for that is because at some point in these events, your physical capacity becomes much less important than your mental capacity. Two hundred miles into a race, everyone is in pain. The last women and men standing are going to be the ones who aren't scared off by that pain. I think the older you are, the more likely it is you've experienced some pain along the way. And you've overcome it. In a lot of sporting events, 56 can start sounding too old. Shoot, in many LIFE events 56 starts sounding too old. But the thing about life - it IS hardship. That's just a fact. Sure, it helps to be physically prepared for hardship, but more and more, I believe the folks who finish the next loops in life aren't the most pysically fit, they are the ones who see that next loop as totally beatable. That's easier to see when you've beaten hardship before. And at 56, chances are you've had far more chances to beat it than you had when you were 26. No matter how old we are, chances are when it comes to conquering that next loop, there is greater risk that we're not old enough than there is that we are too old. When it comes to tackling that next loop, the years are our friend, not our enemy. Think about that today when harship comes along. Life isn't always about THIS loop - sometimes it's just preparation for a bigger loop down the road. The loop that gives us the chance to be the last one standing... |
Robert "Keith" CartwrightI am a friend of God, a dad, a runner who never wins, but is always searching for beauty in the race. Archives
May 2024
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