8/27/2024 0 Comments Press ON, Like a waterfallIf a waterfall can be a spirit animal, I want it to be mine.
In a waterfall, no matter the boulders in the way or the unexpected twists in the terrain, the water just keeps going. If my life was water, I'd say I lived too much of it as a pond, trapped within often toxic boundaries, many of my own making, many not, but always confined within my own inability to see around or over or beyond the trap. But in waterfalls, the water is never trapped. It just keeps going. It doesn't stop to be noticed. It doesn't pay attention to where it's been, so it surely doesn't gets stuck there. It doesn't stop to overthink the way it's direction. It just goes. I press on for that life. The just go life. A life not defined by memories, good or bad. Not defined by culture. Defined only by the waterfall spirit within me. Because there is that spirit within me. Within us all, really. Longing to guide us. Over and through every boulder and around every turn and down every fall we can't even begin to see. It is guiding us. And if we listen, we are never falling, we are only going. Oh the sweet sweet sound of that. Never falling, only going. That's the beauty of a waterfall. Maybe today you feel like you are falling or have fallen. But is it possible you are like a waterfall, not falling at all, but simply going? Over, through and around. Going.
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8/15/2024 0 Comments Roll away the stone in your lifeThe message at the heart of the experience I'm leading this week is that we can all overcome hard stuff. That's why these experiences always feel spiritual to me. Because that's the message at the heart of my Christian experience.
I can overcome hard stuff. I tend to skip by an important detail in the Jesus-rose-from-the-grave story. The stone that was rolled away from his tomb is estimated to have weighed between 1-2 tons. Overcoming the grave was quite literally a heavy challenge. But what a beautiful reminder, then, to look back and see that stone still rolled away. No stone too heavy. I always hope when I'm standing before folks like I am this week, that in some way I look like a stone rolled away. That I look like someone who has overcome hard stuff as a source of hope that they can too. As a source of hope they can roll back into hurting communities looking like rolled away stones themselves. On a break yesterday, a young lady told me about struggles she's going through in life. When she was done telling me about them, she looked at me and said, but I just keep rolling. I smiled inside as I pictured a stone rolling away. There's a set of lyrics in the Elevation Worship song Another Stone that say: We're not three days away From an empty grave Another stone is rolling in the room right now Is it you right now? A new you right now? So powerful. We don't have to wait for the stone to roll away. It has rolled. And unleashed within all of us the power to roll away the stones trapping us inside the tombs of our own lives. Nothing reminds me more that I am a new me than leading the kind of experience I get to lead this week. Standing in the front of the room, I am reminded my path was through and out of a tomb. When the new me looks back, he no longer sees the old me. He sees a stone rolled away. Another stone is rolling in the room right now. Is it you right now? A new you right now? I pray it is. And that you too will walk through the world as a source of hope, as the image of a stone rolled away. 8/10/2024 0 Comments Don't quit playing your songMiles Davis suggests that when a musician hits a wrong note, it's too early to know whether that wrong note was good or bad.
It's the next note one plays that determines that. The keys on a piano aren't meant to be played one at a time. They are meant to be played together. There are sequences of individual notes that sound good or bad. There are notes played together in chords that sound good or bad. But an individual note - an individual note is not good or bad. It's just a note. It's what comes next that determines good or bad. Too often we hit the wrong note and we get stuck there. We get stuck there lamenting how wrong that note was. We get stuck there believing our song is now a disaster. And we get stuck there believing that one wrong note makes us a horrible musician. But the song isn't over. Not as long as there remains a keyboard. Maybe you run a mile in a race that didn't go so well; that next mile just became a really important mile in your song. Maybe you get frustrated and yell at your kid; an apology just became an opportunity for a beautiful next verse in your song. Maybe you lose your job; a job is over, not your ability to start a brand new one. Will it become your best song ever? Maybe you've been through a divorce; well a relationship in life ended, not your life song. Your life song is made up of a lot of notes. And maybe you feel like some of those notes are the wrong notes. Okay. So be it. They were wrong notes. But the song isn't over. As long as you can sit at that piano there are still notes to be played that can turn one wrong note into one beautiful song. Maybe your most beautiful song ever, if you'll just keep playing. We need to be reminded, in the end, if we are remembered for one wrong note, it won't be because of that note, it will be because we quit playing our song. I believe there's a beautiful song left in me; I believe there's a beautiful song left in you. Play your next note. Play your song. The world is waiting to hear it. #playthenextnote (*re-written from an article I wrote in 2022) I've watched Cole Hocker's 1500 meter Olympic run to gold a couple of dozens times now. But it's not the finish line or his joyous celebration just beyond that or the podium scene I'm fixated on. It's something that took place 50 meters before the finish line I can't stop watching.
With the finish line rapidly approaching, a competitor ducked in front of Hocker. There may have even been a slight shove there, and the competitor began to motor away. Hocker's response? I'm not sure the dude even blinked. I know he didn't flinch. His concentration and determination were totally uninterrupted. He lost a little momentum in the brush-up, for sure, but his eyes didn't move even a centimeter from the target. I always say, I'm not much interested in the finish lines people are crossing, but rather, I want to know how the heck they got there. I want to know what they faced without flinching. If you tell Hocker's epic upset story as the story of a man who ran 3 seconds faster than he'd ever run the event to win an unexpected gold medal for his country, you're telling A story, but in my opinion, not THE story. THE story is when push came to shove, literally, Hocker refused to be shoved out of the path that was leading to a dream come true. If you're a dreamer who is chasing a dream, like me, that's an important story to know. Memorize it. Because many dreams don't get realized not because we can't turn in our best effort ever, but because someone cuts us off in traffic and we throw a tantrum and quit driving. The difference between dream crushed and dream realized is often found in the flinch. In those who do and those who don't. Someone will cut you off today. It's coming. Whether on I-95 or in the gym or in a relationship. Don't flinch. You have somewhere to be, something you long to have or to achieve, and it's possible you won't ever get there, but don't let flinching be the reason you don't. There is magic at the finish line. But the real magic often happens long before you get there. A lot of us don't get to places in our lives that would be good for our lives to get because we are waiting for that elusive moment of no-doubt. We are waiting to know this next step is the right step, no doubt about it.
There are times, for sure, that doubt is a warning sign. Don't take that step, danger ahead. But more often than not, doubt is an invitation. It's a calling. It's an opportunity for us to dismiss the the destructive voices of our past in favor of the more hopeful voices of our future. It's a chance to step out of our emotions and not forever live hijacked by them. There's a popular bible story. The disciples are in a boat, in the middle of a storm, and Jesus appears. Walking on water. Jesus calls Peter to step out of the boat and walk toward him. The bible tells us: Peter got down out of the boat, walked on the water and came toward Jesus. But when he saw the wind, he was afraid and, beginning to sink, cried out, “Lord, save me!” Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” I wonder what Peter's answer was. Why DID he doubt? Why do WE doubt? We doubt because this wind looks like a storm I've been through before, and I don't want to go through a storm like that again. I've been rejected before, I don't want to feel rejected again. I failed at starting a business before, I don't want to feel like a failure again. I got hurt the last time I let someone know who I am, I don't want to feel hurt again. Someone criticized my writing the last time I shared it, I don't want to feel criticized again. You know what I love about the Peter story? Peter didn't drown. He was full of doubt, full of hesitation, full of fear; maybe he'd been through some bad storms in his past, but Peter felt doubt as an invitation and not a warning. I've come to know, when looking back on so many of the limiting doubts in my life, doubt was often my future suggesting this thing right here won't work because that thing back there didn't work. Anyone who has lived long at all knows the world often feels like a giant force field standing in front of us as a constant threat to our forward progress. The world often sounds like a booming voice, screaming, "don't even think about getting out of that boat." Peter got out of the boat, and he didn't drown. In fact, he found the hand that most wanted to help him get beyond that giant force field in life. The hand that wanted to show him hope and opportunity and promise. What helping hands, hope, and promise are you not stepping into while refusing to get out of the boat? What emotions are you drowning in and not walking on and through? What doubts are you hearing as warnings that are actually invitations? Maybe this is the perfect week to discover the value in a step. Not a step free of doubt, but one absolutely full of it. Because the reality is, if you're taking steps that are all no-doubt steps, chances are you aren't going anywhere. Chances are you're actually spending more time in the boat than you realize. With the 2024 Summer Olympics beginning, I thought this article from 3 years ago was worth editing a bit and re-sharing.
*** I spent a little time watching the Olympics over the weekend. It's easy to be awed by these young men and women. While watching them compete among some of the most accomplished athletes in the world, it's easy to be lured into believing I am watching the larger than life, the supernatural. But I am not. What I am really watching are people who have decided what is important to them. They have decided it is important enough for them to find a way to do it, and not a bunch of excuses why they can't. I am watching people who appear to be larger than life because they've spent a larger amount of their lives than me saying yes to a way and hell no to excuses. I also spent some time on the trails this weekend with my friends Celia and Meg who are attempting to run the entire Appalachian Trail. My friend Celia was battling stomach issues. Yet, here she was, 4 days and 120 miles into their recent segment, it was hot and she was feeling awful, and all she was talking about was finding a way. Finding a way to keep going. Finding a way for her to be larger than her life as she's known it. She had the perfect excuse in front of her, but she said no to the excuse and yes to finding a way. The more I watch the Olympics, the more I hang out with Celia and Meg, the less I am awed by THEIR superpowers and the more I begin questioning why I so infrequently tap into MY OWN. Because the only thing separating all of them from me is the number of excuses I buy into. When I'm finding a way to say I can't today, they'll be finding a way to say I'll do whatever it takes. Sometimes it's not good for us to watch the Olympics or hang out with friends running the unimaginable run. Because we can walk away from them making THEM our newest excuse. -They have some special gift I don't have. -They have more time, money and resources. -They have a better support system. No, I'm sorry, that is not what they have that you and I don't have. What they have is total clarity about what is important to them. What they want and deserve in life. And if you ever try to give them an excuse why they can't pull off what is important to them, they'll tell you what to do with that excuse. Maybe we should think about that a little more. Whatever it is we're thinking is important to us, there's a good way of measuring just HOW important it is. Are we making a way for that important thing to get done or to become a part of our lives, or are we making excuses why it can't? So the next few weeks, during these 2024 Summer Olympics, I think I'll spend a little more time thinking about what is really important to me. And, maybe, challenge myself to spend a little more time thinking about the way to get there, and not the way out. Three days into his earthly ministry and his relationship with his disciples, Jesus worked his first public miracle. The bible tells us:
On the third day there was a wedding at Cana in Galilee, and the mother of Jesus was there. Jesus also was invited to the wedding with his disciples. When the wine ran out, the mother of Jesus said to him, “They have no wine.” Most of us, whether we follow Jesus or not, know what happened next. Jesus turned water into enough wine to last the whole wedding feast. It's interesting, the Jesus who could turn water into wine clearly could have prevented the wine from running out at all, right? So why did he? Why didn't Jesus prevent what he clearly could have prevented. It's a question I've asked myself at times when trying to solve the mystery of my own relationship with God. Most recently, I suppose, I've found myself asking God that question about my divorce. God, you clearly could have intervened here, why didn't you? You could have worked a miracle no one else could have seen coming and no one else could have worked, why didn't you? In the years since my divorce, I've learned a lot about myself. Most importantly, I've come to intimately understand why I've struggled all of my life with any kind of intimate relationship. And not the least of those relationships I've struggled with has been my relationship with God. And the truth is, as very sad as this truth is, as long as I was in my marriage I was always going to see the root of my problem as the other person, or me, or God. My problem was always going to be about the people in my relationships and not the general fears and shame I felt in the midst of any meaningful relationship with anyone. It's been on the other side of the lowest point in my life that I've come to the highest understanding of my life. I had to run out of my own capacity to do a relationship for God to begin to teach me how to do a relationship. For anyone reading who might be thinking I'm giving the okay to divorce, I'm not. I have just come to know in my own personal relationship with Jesus that if I look back and get caught up in right or wrong or okay or not okay, I can miss the depths of his miracle. If I lose sight of a God who had to endure watching his son die on a cross, I can lose sight of the truth that God doesn't always have to feel joy in what he's witnessing in our lives to work a miracle in our lives. At the end of the water to wine story, the bible tells us, "What Jesus did here in Cana of Galilee was the first of the signs through which he revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him." The reality is, if Jesus had prevented the wine from running out, he would have been prevented from working a miracle that drew his disciples closer to him than they'd been in their early days together. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that God has allowed some things to painfully run out in my life to draw me closer to him than I've ever been. And to prepare me for relationships I never could have had without the pain of discovering all the reasons why I've been so relationally ill-equipped all of my life. Sometimes it's easy to grasp the miracle of the Jesus who can turn water into wine. That Jesus gets a standing ovation. It's much harder, though, to grasp and applaud the miracle of the Jesus who would allow the wine to run out in the first place. But sometimes that's what he does. He let's the wine run out. And it's painful. But if Jesus of the cross taught us anything, it's that pain doesn't diminish a miracle. In fact, it's pain that is often at the heart of it. We all get to the next version of ourselves. In many ways, that is the mystery story in all of our lives.
What will the next version look like? Sometimes the next version is a drastic revision. It's the other side of a broken marriage. It's the other side of a new job or moving to a new state. It's becoming a parent or a pastor. Sometimes, though, next isn't so drastic. Sometimes the next version of ourselves is simply called today. It's waking up knowing today me isn't yesterday me. Whether we are on the other side of yesterday or the other side of a broken relationship, the choice is the same. Do I leave behind all the reasons I wasn't becoming who I longed to become, or do I bring those reasons with me? Does next look like something new and hopeful, or does next look a lot like previous? We have a lot more control over that answer than I think we realize. Science tells us that left unchanged, 90% of the thoughts we have today will be the same thoughts we had yesterday. Our brains are very accommodating that way. If we don't want to put in the work of establishing new ways of thinking and new ways of seeing ourselves, our brains will simply borrow yesterdays thoughts to fill the void. I'm prone to looking back on my life with some regret realizing the number of days I simply turned my thoughts over to a brain completely okay with repurposing yesterdays flawed thought patterns. Thoughts that didn't often thing very highly of me. You are therefore reading the story of someone who knows it's true. If we bring previous internal thoughts and habits from our previous versions into the next versions of us, life won't be much different at all - no matter how much life might have changed on the outside. Becoming who we long to become requires us to start thinking like and making choices that look like that person. Sure, maybe there were things in our old versions holding us back from doing that; maybe there are things in our next versions that offer us more hope. But no matter what version of us we are in, previous or next, our old selves are tagging along. That is, until we tell that 90% today's the day we start using some new math!! It's ultimately us who decides what we make of our next versions. It's ultimately us who decides, more of the same or more of what I've always known I could be. We can move next as far away as we want from previous, but if we bring our previous attitudes or habits with us, next and previous won't look much different at all. A lot of us get to the next version of ourselves and start wondering, why doesn't this look or feel or sound any different than the last version? The answer is, you allowed the old version to tag along. Next will always be the same as previous if we don't come to understand there actually is no next without doing the work of making our next thoughts different from the previous ones. A lot of people go into next phases of life living old versions of their lives, which is sad given that one of the great gifts of new phases is the opportunity to create new versions of ourselves. But not all opportunities are seized. Which again, makes our next versions a bit of a mystery. Whose will look like something new, and whose will look a lot like the last one? Who will seize the opportunity? Growing up, I was never afraid of getting dirty. Even if I didn't always recognize it or even always like it, I was learning that all things are built and grown from dirt.
Whether it was corn growing out of the dirt of the fields surrounding my community, or a house I was helping construct upward from a basement dug out of the dirt, I was always discovering that dirt comes first. Somewhere along the way, I lost sight of that lesson. Or at least failed to apply it in ways that could have helped me discover that God was trying to build some things in me that I was refusing him the chance to build. Because somewhere along the way, I started running from the dirt in life. Specifically, the dirt in MY life. I started running from the traumas in my life. I started running from the hurtful and destructive decisions I was making in my life. I started running from the habits and hang-ups that were controlling my life. I started running from relationships and vulnerabilities and responsibilities. I started running from pain. Somewhere along the way, I lost the chance to understand that if miles and miles of fields of corn can sprout from the dirt, and entire neighborhoods can spring forth from the dirt, how much more could spring forth from the dirt in my life? I've spent the last six years digging in the dirt of my life. No more putting gloves on to make sure my hands stay clean, or, to make sure no one else ever sees the dirt on my hands or face or clothes or life. The last six years have been working toward: here I am, dirt and all. And in doing that, something remarkable has been happening. A new me is emerging from the dirt. I've grown more in the last six years than I did in all the decades preceding this period. Maybe God needed all those years to tend to the soil of my life to grow what he wanted to grow out of my life. Or, and I think this is more likely, God has waited patiently for me to realize the dirt I didn't run from in the fields of my childhood was supposed to help me trust that something can be grown from the dirt of my adulthood. Somewhere along the way, I started believing that corn simply appears like a rabbit out of a hat without having to break through dirt. Somewhere along the way I started demanding that God give me more corn and less dirt. But these last six years, God has been good to take me back to the dirt. He's made me less fearful of it. God has given me friends who've made me feel safe enough to say, this is me and my dirt. He's given me you all to write to and feel safe enough to say, this is me and my dirt. He's given me groups of people to talk to and to teach to and to say, we all have dirt, what can we grow from it? Steven Furtick says, "I read about a God who promised me a land with fruit in it, but I also have a God who put fruit inside of me." Sometimes we can get so committed to escaping to the promised land that we lose sight of the fruit buried somewhere in the dirt of our own hearts and minds and spirits. Digging in the dirt of our life isn't always easy. Dirt is, well, dirty. But nearly every good thing in this life springs forth from the dirt. God himself got down on his knees, in the dirt, totally unafraid of what people might think of this God with a little dirt on his knees, and he created the first human from that very dirt. Maybe it's time to stop running from the dirt in your life and start digging in it. Maybe it's time to consider God is done working the dirt of your life, he's now ready to grow the fruit from it that was supposed to grow from that dirt all along. No matter what your dirt is, my life has taught me it's never too dirty, it's never too late, it's never too impossible. It's never too impossible to experience the possibilities you've come to believe are buried beneath too much dirt to ever grow into reality. Maybe it will require a little extra time in the dirt, but the digging is worth it. You will be forever grateful for the fruit you grow from there. I had dinner with my friend Stacy last night. If I had to offer a theme for our conversation it would be, Starting Over.
It was helpful talking to a friend who is traveling a similar 'starting over' journey in life to the one I'm traveling. Starting over in our health and fitness endeavors and in our relationships and in our jobs. We reflected on the last several years of our lives, and how it can get to feeling like we're caught up in a river of starting overs. The good thing about having dinner with this friend is she's further down that river than I am in many ways. She's tackled a lot of her own starting overs and found hope and new life downstream. And so when she looks at my starting overs and says I'm doing good, that means something to me. Because the reality is if we ever want to get really good at something, starting over might be one of the best things to get good at. One way or another, we can't avoid it, it's what we're all doing, every day - starting over. Sometimes the starting over is relatively small, the old car finally clunked out yesterday, time to get a new one. Sometimes the starting over is relatively giant, I was married 22 years and now I'm not. The magnitudes are certainly different, but the questions we need to ask ourselves are not. What's my next step, and do I have the courage to take it? I am grateful that in going downstream of my giant starting over journey I've discovered friends who look like courage. They look like courage in their lives and they looking like courage knocking at the door of my life. They look like friends who will allow you to feel safe enough to say this river is full of boulders, and I feel like my head is crashing against every one of them some days. And they will say, maybe, but you're still moving downstream. I know a lot of friends who are in starting over journeys. And believe me when I say, I know that can feel much more like a curse than a gift. It will feel that way until you jump in the river and float away and watch the curse grow smaller in the rearview mirror as you head downstream. It will feel that way until you have a friend who assures you you're doing good. It will feel that way until you decide I've come this far, I might as well keep going. Keep going and accept the gift of starting over. The day does come when we don't get to accept that gift anymore. Accept it while you can. |
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
November 2024
CategoriesAll Faith Fatherhood Life Mental Health Perserverance Running |