The Importance of a Personal Mission Statement (What Donald Miller Didn't Say)

Ten people read my blog---I’m being too hard on myself---maybe eleven.  Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller went Platinum, selling over a million copies.  In short that’s why I find his advice valuable.  For his newest project, Author Launch, he took part in a Webinar; ‘Ask An Author Anything.”  In that interview about writing a book he said, ‘new writers should practice by writing a book’, “Practice what you want to do.”  He advised not to blog or Instagram; but write the book.  I get it.  I just find it interesting that while writing his newest book, “Scary Close” Miller was blogging for Storyline and running Storyline conferences.  The reason for this is that Donald Miller’s vision is larger than writing a best-selling novel. 

“The truth is, if what we choose to do with our lives won’t make a story meaningful, it won’t make a life meaningful either,” so begins A Million Miles in a Thousand Years.  Miller’s heartbeat is to live a great story.  His mission is to stimulate others to live a great story as well.  Whatever your vision is; whatever your art is, it needs to be defined.  Your vision must be clear; your goal clearly established. 

My neighbor works all day at the Marine base; comes home, turns on the television and sits in his favorite chair while his wife makes dinner.  The television shows change but the routine remains the same.  My neighbor is a great guy—he goes to church, cares for others, loves his kids, and loves his wife.  Is his personal goal five hours of TV a night?  That’s doubtful. His goals are not defined.  He has no mission statement.

I don’t want to die like that.  When my last breath comes; however it comes (or doesn’t come) I want to have few regrets as possible.  I need to know I rode hard---even if it was only for one good season---still I want it said that I rode hard, played hard, tried living full, stumbled certainly, but pushed harder than most.  Focus means there’s a target.  Pushing hard means there’s a goal.  Beating my best means there’s a baseline.  Let’s take some time to dream and evaluate.  What’s our vision?  What fires us up?  What’s that look like lived out?  What dies if we succumb to the comfort of our living room Barcalounger?

I Blame It On Y2K

It was the midnight the world was going to come to a roaring crash.  Abbreviating the four-digit year 2000 with two-digits meant 2000 was indistinguishable from 1900 which would cause computers world-wide to implode.  When the world woke up on New Years’ Day only the calendar had changed.  For months we’d heard that there was going to be this pandemic failure of systems sending us back into the dark ages.  It didn’t happen.

I hear whispers on the wind of Shemitah and Blood Moons.  To quote one site, “Bestselling author of The Harbinger and the new book, theMystery of the Shemitah, Rabbi Jonathan Cahn has uncovered a startlingconnection between the Shemitah and the financial markets here in the US.”  Huge cataclysmic disasters are coming upon America in 2016.  I’ve not read the book but apparently that’s the message.  Unless we change direction; the Old Testament cycles predict demise. 

         

No doubt, barring a change of direction, these United States will suffer some financial upheaval.  As far as these conspiracy theories go I take them with a grain of salt.  I could be wrong.  There’s nothing wrong with stockpiling food and water (I stop at munitions).  I’m cynical. 

Let me note a caveat and a concern.  The concern is that I’ll miss a serious message that God has for the church; that in my measured, calculating sobriety I will dismiss what I should have responded to.  The caveat is that there will be a judgment.  Christ will come once again; not as Suffering Servant but as ruling glorious king.  Hope will be met with its’ fullest reward; faith will then be sight.  The Bible lays all of this out for us.  Not so for any conspiracy---even ‘Bible based’ ones.

The same article states that these authors “believe God is trying to send a message to mankind- repent and seek Him while there is still time!”  I agree with the message but dismiss the media being used.  I’ve seen too many prophesied dates come and go.  I blame it on Y2K.

Living Here And The Beauty I See

The visitor gasped; astounded he couldn't believe that I hadn't visited the aerial tramway which is only miles away.  “And you live here!” He exclaimed.

Though I've not been atop the tram its true,

I’ve seen the night sky rich and darkest blue, 

I've seen the citrine moon, (like a balloon),

Resting on the desert sands somewhere,

Between fingertip and edge of the horizon. 

While out away from city street,

I’ve seen a ram, heard its’ bleat,

Seen a moose—six point rack;

Stood waist deep in the Narrows,

Not a care upon my back.

Transients pushing their baskets,

Skin brown-red from years in the Sun,

They walk down street, through parks they troop,

I’ve seen many from the seat in my air-conditioned coupe.

And I’ve seen a boy, his little head without hair,

A face covered with mask to keep out any bad air;

Leukemia---cancer; blood, bone and brain,

I’ve seen it take both the young and the aged.

A woman with her children, her home cinder block and dirt,

A life without hope or means for food and shirts;

Behold brilliant bold colors, variegated texture, the fabric woven woof, warp and square,

A Missionary family from here and local body in Christ; living proof, hope and care.

Though I’ve not been on the twirling tram,

I have to think through all I’ve seen,

Through human stuff and natures’ splendor,

That there’s some kind of human ‘dark’,

And some kind of majestic creator.

God Is Made Most Sweet In Times Most Bitter

In my most difficult seasons I draw closest to God.  It is paradoxical; God is made most sweet in times that are most bitter.  I can appreciate that God has the universe wired this way.  Still part of me would much rather skip these seasons of testing and settle for God-lite.  Unfortunately God-lite doesn’t improve character or slam one up against one’s own pride.  There’s no need for a great big God when I’ve got little ole me running the show so-very-smoothly!

It is easy to lose perspective.  Feels like it’s always been this way.  There’s no way out.  I’ll be sucked down into the vortex; ever spinning, more and more out of control until it all collapses.  The bills are overwhelming and getting a handle seems impossible.  The rental-property is an ever depressing source of bad news; termites, tenant-problems, increased premiums, asbestos in the attic.  To easy for it to color everything if I let it.

Viewed from a different angle it’s been a great month.  The wife and I had a number of weekends filled with visiting friends and family.  The daughter and I got away to the beach Saturday where a close friend and pro-photographer shot her Senior pics.  I could write line-on-line of the blessings experienced even this last week.  That being said I suspect I’m wired like everyone else and the stressors overwhelm and shade all the rest of life.

I’m forced face up against fear and overwhelmed by events out of my control.  For help, for comfort, for Rock and Shield I spend more time in prayer.  Because God speaks through His word I find in myself an increased hunger for reading the Bible.  On top of these I pile on Spurgeon and Piper.  Perspective is gained, right focus restored—though not without struggle.  In this oven of trial the sweet taste of God comes forth.  He is made sweeter in seasons most bitter.    

Freud and Undersea Diving

What would Freud think?  Twelve years old and what I want most is to climb into a dark, round metal dirigible and be submerged into the ocean.  It’s one of the few times my parents said, “No.”  And it’s the one that I remember—still.  

 Week after week, while mom and dad sat on the couch and my sister and I sat on the floor, Jacques Yves Cousteau explored that first frontier.  It was the early 70’s; we’d gone into space and landed on the moon.  Trips into space were difficult to comprehend.  Trips down into the depths of the ocean were broadcast into my living room.  .  Rod Serling provided terse commentary; we were right there with the crew on Calypso!  This was no Sea Hunt where we knew that every week Mike Nelson would save the world only to get the bends.  No, this was exploration in full Kodachrome color; a mix of science, adventure and wonder.  Oh the wonder; who knew that such creatures existed—or such dangers lurked at such depths?

This was a modern Bathyscaphe, a balloon-like diving saucer such as the one the crew of Calypso used.  There it sat on the pier in Santa Barbara.  One could be submerged in it; for a price.  I suspect the price was the reason my parent said no.  I remember little else but what shows in my mind’s eye; a steel balloon, a pier and a chance to dive deep under the water.  Still I wonder if I’d taken that dive---would my life be different?

I wanted to become a marine biologist up into my senior year of high school.  Then I found out that marine biologists had to take extensive chemistry and math courses.  I’d gotten a ‘D’ in Chemistry in Mr. Gobble’s class---only escaping an ‘F’ because I was a nice student.  If I’d taken that dive would my drive have been stronger?  Would my love of exploration been cemented?  Wanderlust was with me in the womb; would this have lit that drive up like a space-ship; changing my life’s trajectory forever?

It’s a series of the no’s and the yes’s that set our lives on their courses.  Serling would say it’s the signposts that cause us to choose the straights and the turning.  Those turns may have been tragic or filled with wonder.  Id and ego; self and sacrifice.  We are a glorious mix of all those crossroads.  Looking back one can ponder; living the adventure ahead—so much greater!

Ash Wednesday Isn't For Brownie Points It's For Freedom

This week across the globe people will commemorate death.  On Ash Wednesday folks will begin celebrating Lent.  Many will have the sign of the cross made on their forehead with ash.  This is to identify with death, specifically as related to the verse in Genesis, “By the sweat of your face you will eat bread till you return to the ground, because from it you were taken; for you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”  Lent is forty days of preparation for Passion.  Oh that we lived in the fullness of that Sunday and not in the shadow of that Friday.

People get stuck on Lent.  They focus on the giving up.  Somehow it gets to be all about them and what they’re giving up---that’s been my impression anyway, “Hey, if I give up Twinkies God will love me more!  Brownie points for Twinkies, yay!”  This is my first year doing Lent.  The wife and I are giving up minor food-stuffs in hopes that we will be more focused on Christ and Resurrection Sunday.  Not for Brownie points, just as a spiritual nudge to think about what matters.

What matters isn’t the diminutive deprivation (we’re not giving up coffee).  It’s more about who matters than what matters.  We choose to focus on Christ, His sacrifice and the resurrection which bought us complete freedom to live in the fullness of whom we are designed to be.  That is the fullness of that life-giving Sunday.  The words that changed Martin Luther, “Therefore, having been justified by faith we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,” that is what matters.  It’s free.  No Brownie points to earn God’s favor; Christ died, Christ paid, Christ rose for us.  It’s that simple.

“For in Christ all the fullness of the Deity lives in bodily form, and in Christ you have been brought to fullness,” says Paul.  We have fullness.  Or as MercyMe sings it, “You are holy, righteous and redeemed.”   We fast for that.  On Easter, we feast for that.  We break fast, celebrate and enter into that fullness that Christ bought for us that Sunday when He rose from the dead.

When He Has Tried Me I Shall Come Forth As Gold

“Behold, I go forward but He is not there,And backward, but I cannot perceive Him;When He acts on the left, I cannot behold Him;He turns on the right, I cannot see Him.“But He knows the way I take;When He has tried me, I shall come forth as gold.”

Here’s the lie; “If you develop an image of success, health, abundance, joy, peace, happiness, nothing on earth will be able to hold those things from you.”  That’s a quote from Joel Osteen.  Here’s truth---from the Apostle Peter, “Do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal among you, which comes upon you for your testing…”  The Biblical truth grounds me; lies like that from Osteen hurls me into spiraling chaos.

Job persevered because he knew that his suffering had purpose.  The knowledge that a sovereign God ordained his pain allowed for hope and final victory.  What if Job was an Osteen follower?  Not that it has to be Osteen; the lie has always been the same; God wants you happy, God wants you rich, God wants you pain-free and all your desires maximized.  Can’t you hear Satan whispering the same message through the ages?

Personally I’d be dead or on psych meds if I thought my personal trials were meaningless.  I've fallen into that thought process before and it leads to either self-destructive behavior (porn and women in my case) or depression bordering on a clinical not-gonna-get-outta-bed level. 

Perseverance, proven character and hope are brought about through trials.  That is the consistent truth spoken throughout the sixty-six books of the bible.  Pain has purpose.  “Suffering provides the gym equipment on which my faith can be exercised,” says Joni Eareckson Tada.  In her book Pain and Providence she writes, “God uses chronic pain and weakness, along with other afflictions, as his chisel for sculpting our lives. Felt weakness deepens dependency on Christ for strength each day. The weaker we feel, the harder we lean. And the harder we lean, the stronger we grow spiritually, even while our bodies waste away.”

I don’t understand how people persevere apart from belief in a sovereign, loving God.  How does the recovering alcoholic keep at it if he’s only trusting in a ‘higher power?’  If that higher power isn't Christ; didn't bleed for him, then what?  If there’s no guarantee that ALL things are working for his good; then what?

In the context of a life lived in God; pain has purpose.  So I can say through everything, “When He hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold.”

Pushing Past Complacency

 Outside my window the trees bend eastward; palms and pines shaking moisture from frond and needle. We are into our third day of rain.   I delight in the brisk wind and smack of cold I feel as I step outside the house.  Its how I want God and verve to blow into my life; fresh and clear; brisk, sharp, cold---invigorating.  I think that the shaking is happening; the blowing and clearing my life of dead stuff.  Not a quick storm; it’s more a shaking season.  It’s less invigorating and more frustrating. 

“According to Christian teachers, the essential vice, the utmost evil, is Pride. Unchastity, anger, greed, drunkenness, and all that, are mere fleabites in comparison: it was through Pride that the devil became the devil: Pride leads to every other vice: it is the complete anti-God state of mind,” writes Lewis in Mere Christianity.  I have a sense that the rebellious employee and the demanding supervisor at work are placed there to bring me up against my own selfishness.  I have these conversations with Christ and ask him how He did it?  How did He live among us; put up with us and love us?  I don’t serve well and I want revenge when you go against me.  The wind blows cold and smoothes layers off my thick skin. 

Life delivers these growth opportunities to my door.  I’m never asked to sign and approve delivery; they just show up uninvited; the good and the bad.  The choice then is mine; to ignore or to improve.  Minute by minute I decide to move into doing the right thing.  I deliver ice to the Service Deli as requested by that areas’ manager---though I’ve a million things to do.  I am frustrated but pray and choose to serve.  At home I sit down to write some paragraphs believing my writing will be improved.  It’s the walking against the wind where we grow.  Usually that is the case.  Sometimes we stand still and just hold on.  Always the decision to move forward—or at least to stay standing—is ours. 

If you look around you its easy to see complacency.  You don’t have to look far to see reacting.  Finding people that choose to act is much more difficult.  The couch potato and the sluggard live next door to every one of us.  The fighter is hard to find---albeit hard to be.

The wind blows harder, colder; everything shakes.  The sky above is still grey.  In the distance there is bright blue; the grey pales against it.  I can almost reach out and touch the blue.  The season will pass.  Spring will come with perfumed air; bright skies and life.  It’s only a season.  I press forward.  I hold on.  We press forward.  We hold on.

Finding Healing In Impossibility

“A man was there who had been ill for thirty-eight years.  When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he had already been a long time in that condition, He said to him, “Do you wish to get well?”

“From where I lay to the healing pool it’s fifteen feet of impossibility.  Day after day I lay here.  I plan the way to get to the water when it is stirred up.  Each time I begin to crawl and every time somebody beats me to the water.  Some are able to walk on in.  Some have a close friend or family to put them in.  I am bereft of help and relationship.  I will never be healed.  I can think of no other options.  In every direction there is only darkness. 

How agonizing to be so close yet never make it.  Day after day for years on end.  I have tried everything; crying, screaming, begging and bleeding but nobody would lend a hand.  I will never make it crawling on my own.

I've cursed God.  How could I not?  God had provided others with help.  Heck, God had allowed others to live healthy lives.  I can’t remember health.  Musing leads to bitterness, bitterness to self-pity, pity to self-loathing and God cursing.  Still I focus on the pool and its’ healing water.

Sometimes it takes years to break a man; once in a while it happens quickly.  I’ve had a long time to reflect on my sin.  Boatloads of sin.  Throw in the cursing and I’m done for.  Someday maybe I’ll walk.  My spirit never will.  God will never forgive me.” 

Jesus singled out this man.  He said to him, “Do you wish to get well?”  The sick man replied, “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up…”  “Why are you asking me this?  Yes, can’t you see how I long to get to the water?  But I can’t!” I say it, gripped with emotion.”

Jesus said to him, “Get up, pick up your pallet and walk.”  Later on Jesus tells the man, “Behold, you have become well; do not sin anymore so that nothing worse happens to you.”

          

The final kicker is that the man had spent many years focused on the water and it wasn't the water that healed him.  In the full context there’s a larger point to the story.  I see a great lesson here in the smaller scale.  The man focused on the water and almost missed Jesus.  Still Jesus stepped into his life and solved his impossible situation.  There’s hope there.  Even if my focus is wrong God can walk in and fix my impossible situation.  

Using Personal Talent To Project Beauty

“Don’t know if I could write like that!” I said to myself---finishing a chapter by Anne Lamott.  Every artist feels this way at times.  Pressfield says, “If you find yourself asking yourself (and your friends), "Am I really a writer? Am I really an artist?" chances are you are. The counterfeit innovator is wildly self-confident. The real one is scared to death.”   In every endeavor the temptation is to look at the great (famous) artists and say, “I’m no Ansel Adams or Annie Dillard so I best find something else to occupy my time.  Perhaps I should do something more akin to who I am.  I can finally accomplish that goal I have of watching every Hitchcock movie!”  The comparison is a false comparison.

I’m acquainted with a bunch of artists.  I know thespians and photographers, painters and roasters (I consider coffee roasting a fine art).  Each of them captures the beauty of this world and projects it.  Each has a small audience that appreciates their work.  Here in the high desert there is a local theatre which puts on plays.  Many of the actors are astoundingly good, some uproariously funny.  They are delighting others with their craft. 

The gift that each of us has is uniquely personal.  It’s like the story of the talents.  In the biblical story a master goes on a journey and gives each of his slaves talents “each according to his ability.”  To one he gave five, one he gave two, and to one he gave one.”  So too I have a gift unique to me.  The challenge is twofold; to act on investing it and to be wise in the investing. 

My life is made rich by the artistry around me.  It is in these that I am reminded of beauty---and reminded that there is an Artist as well.  We encourage and fuel one another’s passion when we use our gifts.  The world would be a much more horrid place without them.