This semester of college has presented me with numerous different experiences than I faced last semester. One of these new aspects is the commute. To redeem the 40 minute drive in the mornings, I decided to start listening to podcasts by motivational speakers or pastors. (One can only listen to the top 40 hits before memorizing every word and growing weary of the tunes.)
This morning's message was about the irreducible minimums in an individual's life. The speaker, Louie Giglio, posed the question of, when everything else is stripped away, what is the one thing (the irreducible minimum) that you cannot live without?
At first I gave the obligatory Christian response: The one thing I cannot live without is Jesus. Jesus is always a safe answer in Christian circles.
I almost forsook the podcast believing it would be just another preachy message about how Jesus needs to be first in a believer's life. I halfheartedly thought of the trivial things that add pleasure to my life but that I could easily (or not so easily) live without, such as coffee, Instagram, dark chocolate, Ella Fitzgerald, hot tea... these things are nice but in a life or death situation I could probably survive without them (though I am not too sure about the coffee).
Then the contemplations began (this 40 minute drive provides almost too much time to think). When someone has a revelation of the one thing they cannot live without, if they are wise they will do everything in their power to make sure they always have a steady supply of this, whatever it may be. They will chase it and pursue it and grab onto it with a persevering grip. It will be the prize that motivates their very existence. Pondering this somehow hit the nail on the head in my thoughts.
I have spent this semester chasing so many things, acting as if I only achieved them this growing hole in my heart could somehow be satiated.
I realized one "reducible" minimum when I viewed a test grade on this fateful Monday morning. My grades have been both a topic of pride and insecurity. Something whispers to my soul that my grades reflect my competencies not just as a student but as a whole human being. I am guilty of surrendering a piece of my worth to those numbers circled in red. I became comfortable and dependent upon my A average, mistakenly believing that my identity, worth, and competency were all reflected in that. I have often stated in the past that I would "not be able to handle" making anything less than an A. On this fateful Monday while the B swam before me through a few immature tears, I took a deep breath and repeated the words of Aibileen Clark from The Help: "You is kind. You is smart. You is important." Achieving all As is certainly a good goal, but it is merely a reducible minimum. Life goes on, even with Bs.
There is a more prominent, yet very reducible irreducible minimum that I have recently established in my life. I am attempting to convince myself that it is reducible and life will continue even though it has not gone as anticipated. At my former college, I took advantage of the very deep, vulnerable, honest, and close connections I made with people. In my optimistic spirit, I believed that life at my new school would be a continuation of my former college. I would make friends and establish a brand new identity in this brand new large circle of friends. These connections, too, would be deep and personal.
Unfortunately, my new college very much has the mindset of a commuter school. Connections are few and far between. I began keeping tally of the people I would speak to and conversations I would have in one day, in a desperate effort to challenge myself to speak to people even when these attempts were hardly productive. This tally soon began to feel like a number representing my silent pleas throughout the day, begging for that feeling of connection and belonging in social circles. The desire to establish friendship connections motivated a piece of my existence that simply was not being satisfied.
I firmly believe that friendships are important and I will not abandon either of these goals, to make As or to make friends, but when I elevate these goals to a position of being irreducible minimums, my hopes will be sorely disappointed and my heart never satisfied.
Instead of pursuing these goals and placing them as highest priority in my life, it is imperative to remember the goal that will not disappoint. "I run straight toward the goal to win the prize that God's heavenly call offers in Jesus Christ" (Phil. 3:14).
As I pursue the prize of Christ, my grade will not be a reflection of my worth but of a best attempt - an attempt that brings honor to the One who is truly deserving.
As I pursue the prize, I will not seek to talk to others for my own benefit. I will connect with them so that I can love extravagantly and not prioritize my own "need" for friendship.
And really, as I pursue the prize of the call of Christ, this should be my goal anyways. To love extravagantly, to put others first extravagantly, to be extravagantly faithful, and to be extravagantly hopeful, joyful, and persevering.
All of these ponderings still do not answer the question. What is an irreducible minimum?
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Sunday, February 23, 2014
Making Lemonade out of Lemons
During my last shift at work, I was tasked with making lemonade.
The first step was assessing the state of the four cases of lemons, weeding out the moldy and rotten ones, and cleaning the lemons that remained.
Where the first step focused on outward appearance, the second began changing the lemon's shape by cutting them in half to make the next step easier.
The third step was by far the longest. It was time to squeeze the lemons - change their shape, transform their nature, and remodel their image. As I hovered over the motorized squeezer, I smirked a little thinking that I was fulfilling the cliche saying, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."
And then my smirk disappeared when I had this crazy revelation that a walk with God is like making lemonade.
God, the squeezer, takes each individual lemon (or human, in this case) and assesses the state of their being. While looking deep into their hearts he sees them not just as what they are in that moment but everything that they could and are meant to be. He is not hindered by the messy appearance - he looks beyond the moldy nature to consider the true purpose. Meanwhile, the lemon is oblivious to the plans the squeezer has. She does not know the pain and discomfort set before her, she knows only that in her current form she feels like she just isn't quite existing in her most productive state.
The squeezer then takes his lemon in hand and splices it right down the middle. The lemon soon adjusts to this new form of existence. Changed. Different. Never going back to the old. Which is true, the lemon has encountered the squeezer and no lemon should ever be the same after this. The squeezer always brings change.
The lemon cannot remain in such a state for very long. Though it is easy to become comfortable this way, if allowed to rest in this form the lemon will soon become wrinkly and some of it's worth might begin to wane. The squeezer then takes the lemon again in hand and this time truly changes it. The lemon is exposed to the wringer and the flesh is separated from the heart and squeezed down to pure juice.
At what point in this process does the lemon have any right to say to the squeezer, "I know you intend me for different purposes, but I would like to forego the hard work and take the easy route?"
How often recently have I, a mere lemon in the hands of the Squeezer, tried to wave my pointy little finger at the one holding me and tell Him my different plan? The squeezer will not abandon the work He has begun until he sees it to completion. He sees me in my meager form and deems me worthy of the call of Christ - it is not an easy call, though. My nature must be changed, my heart separated from my flesh, and my image completely remodeled. This change is uncomfortable. There are times of doubt, questioning, and uncertainty. Does the Squeezer really understand what is best for me? Does He really mean what He says when He states this new form is necessary for growth, that I must push through to see the goodness? And if I do push through, will the goodness really come?
The answer is yes. Even in the dry, the lonely, the confusing, the uncomfortable, the wearisome, and the painful seasons, the Squeezer knows what form in which the lemon will best function. He understands the pain inflicted by the squeezing and wringing of everything on the inside, and He promises to never leave in these seasons.
And He definitely means what he says when the goodness will come. The beautiful thing is that, when in lemonade form, there is only a small ratio of lemon juice in the sugar and water mixture. So it is with God. There is only a little of us remaining, but the rest of our beings are filled with God. We are in Him and He is in us. He fills the cracks and inadequacies presented by our slight strength with His goodness and never failing strength. When we are poured out into others' lives or into the trivialities of life, God is there always ready to fill us with more of Him and His grace and joy and strength. On its own, the lemon is nothing. It is quick to rot and fade into a state of worthlessness. But with the Squeezer, the lemon is given immeasurable worth and purpose. I was encouraged by making lemonade not to be discouraged or dismayed by the squeezing and pressure of life but to hold onto to the hope of the goodness of the call presented to me.
The first step was assessing the state of the four cases of lemons, weeding out the moldy and rotten ones, and cleaning the lemons that remained.
Where the first step focused on outward appearance, the second began changing the lemon's shape by cutting them in half to make the next step easier.
The third step was by far the longest. It was time to squeeze the lemons - change their shape, transform their nature, and remodel their image. As I hovered over the motorized squeezer, I smirked a little thinking that I was fulfilling the cliche saying, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."
And then my smirk disappeared when I had this crazy revelation that a walk with God is like making lemonade.
God, the squeezer, takes each individual lemon (or human, in this case) and assesses the state of their being. While looking deep into their hearts he sees them not just as what they are in that moment but everything that they could and are meant to be. He is not hindered by the messy appearance - he looks beyond the moldy nature to consider the true purpose. Meanwhile, the lemon is oblivious to the plans the squeezer has. She does not know the pain and discomfort set before her, she knows only that in her current form she feels like she just isn't quite existing in her most productive state.
The squeezer then takes his lemon in hand and splices it right down the middle. The lemon soon adjusts to this new form of existence. Changed. Different. Never going back to the old. Which is true, the lemon has encountered the squeezer and no lemon should ever be the same after this. The squeezer always brings change.
The lemon cannot remain in such a state for very long. Though it is easy to become comfortable this way, if allowed to rest in this form the lemon will soon become wrinkly and some of it's worth might begin to wane. The squeezer then takes the lemon again in hand and this time truly changes it. The lemon is exposed to the wringer and the flesh is separated from the heart and squeezed down to pure juice.
At what point in this process does the lemon have any right to say to the squeezer, "I know you intend me for different purposes, but I would like to forego the hard work and take the easy route?"
How often recently have I, a mere lemon in the hands of the Squeezer, tried to wave my pointy little finger at the one holding me and tell Him my different plan? The squeezer will not abandon the work He has begun until he sees it to completion. He sees me in my meager form and deems me worthy of the call of Christ - it is not an easy call, though. My nature must be changed, my heart separated from my flesh, and my image completely remodeled. This change is uncomfortable. There are times of doubt, questioning, and uncertainty. Does the Squeezer really understand what is best for me? Does He really mean what He says when He states this new form is necessary for growth, that I must push through to see the goodness? And if I do push through, will the goodness really come?
The answer is yes. Even in the dry, the lonely, the confusing, the uncomfortable, the wearisome, and the painful seasons, the Squeezer knows what form in which the lemon will best function. He understands the pain inflicted by the squeezing and wringing of everything on the inside, and He promises to never leave in these seasons.
And He definitely means what he says when the goodness will come. The beautiful thing is that, when in lemonade form, there is only a small ratio of lemon juice in the sugar and water mixture. So it is with God. There is only a little of us remaining, but the rest of our beings are filled with God. We are in Him and He is in us. He fills the cracks and inadequacies presented by our slight strength with His goodness and never failing strength. When we are poured out into others' lives or into the trivialities of life, God is there always ready to fill us with more of Him and His grace and joy and strength. On its own, the lemon is nothing. It is quick to rot and fade into a state of worthlessness. But with the Squeezer, the lemon is given immeasurable worth and purpose. I was encouraged by making lemonade not to be discouraged or dismayed by the squeezing and pressure of life but to hold onto to the hope of the goodness of the call presented to me.
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
A Red Light Encounter
Today was one of those days.
Left alone with my weariness and overwhelmed thoughts after a hectic day of classes, I sat behind a long line of cars delayed by the seemingly-endless red light that separates the students from the free world. I had Jason Derulo's latest hit cranked to the highest possible decibel, bringing a strange sort of comfort to my exhausted mind and body. My dinner of an Atkins Diet snack bar was frozen in my lunch box. I am unsure whether the moisture on my face was rain or tears (probably a mix of both).
Out of my peripheral vision I noticed the man in the car next to me had his interior lights on and was frantically motioning for me to roll down my window. Not caring to turn down my music, I slowly lowered my window and stuck a tearful head out to hear him shout,
"Tell me what first comes to your mind. Who do you love?
"Uhh... God?" I said this with a slight eye-roll and scoff in my mind. This guy was obviously feeling as nuts as I was.
"Good," he nodded eagerly. "What do you love doing?"
To this I responded without hesitation. I might as well humor the poor man. "Yoga!"
"Love God and do what you love!"
I could hardly think of a response before he excitedly shouted again, "This saves lives. The world needs to hear and the world needs to know. Don't just keep it here, take it wherever you go. Love God and do what you love!"
Then the light was green. The man was gone. Jason Derulo was quickly silenced. And the jumbled "conversation" rattled joyously in my mind. Somehow this stranger (possibly Jesus, an angel, a man on a queer witnessing mission, a man just released from an asylum, or a figment of my imagination) knew the question I regularly contemplate and discuss. Granted, it is probably assumed that this question is asked by probably every college student. But by a strange chance he echoed a couple of beloved voices that have recently spoken into my life with words like "Love God with all of your being and do what you want. Your desires will be His and His will be yours" and "Ask not simply what the world needs but also what makes you come alive, and go do it."
Something about this encounter at the stop light shook my world a little bit. I've had time recently to think about my current top two choices for a college major: one option is secondary education with an English focus and the other is some sort of shebang of a major that combines exercise science/nutritionist/yoga instructor certification (there would then be further certifications I could obtain in the exercise science and nutrition fields). I have heard no profound direction from heaven as to which path to take so I continue to ponder and pray.
But this man made it sound so simple. Love God. Do what I love. Hearing these words in the specific context of yoga made it exceptionally exciting. It raised all sorts of possibilities. What a thrilling prospect to consider joining my love for God with my desire to improve not only my life but others' as well with the benefits of yoga. The fact that the man went a step further in saying not to keep this skill here but to take it with me wherever I go sends shivers along my wander lusting skin. How perfect to take both Jesus and yoga on traveling adventures.
I am uncertain how to process the unexpected words said by this unforeseen man. I feel almost silly for considering his words so seriously and allowing myself to become this awakened by them. I do not understand the meaning behind this chance encounter. But this I do know - God is so kind. He was acquainted with my tired and questioning heart and knew the encouragement I needed. He hears my daily question of "What would you have me do?" and cared enough to remind me not to drown my own dreams and desires. Tonight reminded me that it is okay (heck, it is good!) to dream something with an element of unknown, that requires one to walk courageously and imagine wild possibilities. It also reminded me that following God, the author of dreams, involves unexpected risk. Though I do not generally advise the risk of rolling down the window to converse with men on a rainy night.
I end with the words of T. E. Lawrence:
"All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible."
Left alone with my weariness and overwhelmed thoughts after a hectic day of classes, I sat behind a long line of cars delayed by the seemingly-endless red light that separates the students from the free world. I had Jason Derulo's latest hit cranked to the highest possible decibel, bringing a strange sort of comfort to my exhausted mind and body. My dinner of an Atkins Diet snack bar was frozen in my lunch box. I am unsure whether the moisture on my face was rain or tears (probably a mix of both).
Out of my peripheral vision I noticed the man in the car next to me had his interior lights on and was frantically motioning for me to roll down my window. Not caring to turn down my music, I slowly lowered my window and stuck a tearful head out to hear him shout,
"Tell me what first comes to your mind. Who do you love?
"Uhh... God?" I said this with a slight eye-roll and scoff in my mind. This guy was obviously feeling as nuts as I was.
"Good," he nodded eagerly. "What do you love doing?"
To this I responded without hesitation. I might as well humor the poor man. "Yoga!"
"Love God and do what you love!"
I could hardly think of a response before he excitedly shouted again, "This saves lives. The world needs to hear and the world needs to know. Don't just keep it here, take it wherever you go. Love God and do what you love!"
Then the light was green. The man was gone. Jason Derulo was quickly silenced. And the jumbled "conversation" rattled joyously in my mind. Somehow this stranger (possibly Jesus, an angel, a man on a queer witnessing mission, a man just released from an asylum, or a figment of my imagination) knew the question I regularly contemplate and discuss. Granted, it is probably assumed that this question is asked by probably every college student. But by a strange chance he echoed a couple of beloved voices that have recently spoken into my life with words like "Love God with all of your being and do what you want. Your desires will be His and His will be yours" and "Ask not simply what the world needs but also what makes you come alive, and go do it."
Something about this encounter at the stop light shook my world a little bit. I've had time recently to think about my current top two choices for a college major: one option is secondary education with an English focus and the other is some sort of shebang of a major that combines exercise science/nutritionist/yoga instructor certification (there would then be further certifications I could obtain in the exercise science and nutrition fields). I have heard no profound direction from heaven as to which path to take so I continue to ponder and pray.
But this man made it sound so simple. Love God. Do what I love. Hearing these words in the specific context of yoga made it exceptionally exciting. It raised all sorts of possibilities. What a thrilling prospect to consider joining my love for God with my desire to improve not only my life but others' as well with the benefits of yoga. The fact that the man went a step further in saying not to keep this skill here but to take it with me wherever I go sends shivers along my wander lusting skin. How perfect to take both Jesus and yoga on traveling adventures.
I am uncertain how to process the unexpected words said by this unforeseen man. I feel almost silly for considering his words so seriously and allowing myself to become this awakened by them. I do not understand the meaning behind this chance encounter. But this I do know - God is so kind. He was acquainted with my tired and questioning heart and knew the encouragement I needed. He hears my daily question of "What would you have me do?" and cared enough to remind me not to drown my own dreams and desires. Tonight reminded me that it is okay (heck, it is good!) to dream something with an element of unknown, that requires one to walk courageously and imagine wild possibilities. It also reminded me that following God, the author of dreams, involves unexpected risk. Though I do not generally advise the risk of rolling down the window to converse with men on a rainy night.
I end with the words of T. E. Lawrence:
"All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity; but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible."
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