February 8, 2007. You probably don't remember what you did that day or what, if anything, of note happened for you on that date. For myself, however, I remember. I will always remember. I was sitting in a meeting in Orlando, Florida, just eight days removed from having left a very difficult ministry situation, and I had both the feeling and the attitude of a man who had just been released from prison.
I was in Orlando at the invitation of a friend, Alex McManus, who was hosting a conference dedicated to helping leaders more fully discover what it means to become fully human, especially as an aspect of knowing and following Jesus. I was greatly enjoying myself, surrounded by friends from around the country, as well as beginning to flex mental muscles that had seemed to atrophy over the previous few years. I was enjoying being challenged through both one-on-one and small-group conversations, as well as the words of those invited to speak during the 2-day event.
The main speaker for the event was Alex's brother Erwin, someone who has always challenged me to think more deeply and through a wider visionary lens. In the late afternoon of February 8, Erwin was wrapping up the event by talking about some of the things in which he and his faith community (Mosaic in Los Angeles) were involved at the time. In an almost "oh, by the way" manner, he quickly brought up a collaborative relationship they had recently developed with an L.A.-based organization concerning the issue of sex trafficking in the U.S.
"In the U.S." Those words hung in the air, almost as if I could see them right in front of me. Until that point (and this is not something I'm proud of), I considered trafficking to be a Latin, Eastern European, Asian, African issue. I had always been saddened by the trafficking stories I'd heard from those parts of the world, but had never really known what, if anything, I could do about the problem. But here, in the U.S.? Could that really be possible? I don't remember anything Erwin said after that. All I heard was a still, small voice inside my head telling me, "Go talk to Erwin. Go talk to Erwin." So, grudgingly, I went and talked to Erwin. He told me who to call at Mosaic about the issue. That person then connected me with a lady named Cindy, who connected me with a young man on the West Coast named Adam who turned out to be a gold mine of information about this issue.
Later, a good friend and colleague with whom I had shared my Orlando story flew to California to spend a week with Adam and his team to learn all that he could from them about the issue of trafficking in the United States. At the end of that week, Adam handed my friend all of his team's research concerning this issue and told him to go back to Chattanooga and make a difference on behalf of those victims who suffer at the hands of traffickers. My friend came home, told me all he had learned, and Second Life of Chattanooga was born.
Since then 2 other good friends and colleagues have come along to build and lead this organization with us, this conspiracy of hope, this commitment to creating both awareness and action about this issue everywhere we can in the Greater Chattanooga/Southeast Tennessee region. We have all learned things that have broken our hearts, outraged us, left us wondering at times how humans can treat other humans with such brutality and heartlessness, and on occasion been barely able to hold on to faith in the God we believe created all of humanity to reflect His personhood. We have been forever changed by what we've experienced, what we've learned, the people we've met, the calling we've each heard.
God knows that we've sat through more meetings than we can count, some of them in coffee shops and pubs, some of them in those places where power and influence are most obviously exhibited. We have met with the courageous and the cowardly, we have met with those who have told us that there was no way what we were describing was happening in our area, and we have met with those who have immediately asked, "How can I help?" We have spoken to groups of a few and groups of many, describing just what trafficking is, its scale, how to recognize it and what each of us can do to begin bringing about the end of it.
All of those meetings have led us to a meeting this Thursday, November 18, when along with the wonderful people of Partnership for Families, Children, and Adults in Chattanooga, Tennessee, we will lead a meeting of individuals and groups from law enforcement, the judicial system, and the social justice and advocacy arena, as we begin the work of forming a coalition that is specifically dedicated to ending all forms of human trafficking in the Greater Chattanooga/Southeast Tennessee region. It has taken almost four years to get us to this point. At the same time, it feels like my true involvement in this work is just beginning.
Had I known all that was ahead for myself and others that February day in 2007, I might have ignored the voice telling me to go talk to Erwin. God knows I have heard all kinds of voices since then. There have been voices of unbelief, outrage, heartbreak, courage, voices of compassion and generosity. I have also heard voices of hope, even when hope seemed the most ridiculous possible response. All of these voices continue to both call me and drive me. Most of all I hear the voice of One who said that He came, "...to proclaim freedom for the prisoners...to set the oppressed free."
I hear voices. I bet you hear them too.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Unique
I've been thinking quite a lot lately about the word "unique." This is due primarily to the fact I keep running into senior pastors, church staff pastors, and other people in ministry leadership roles who are convinced of how unique their church, vision, ministry, tradition, denomination is. While I don't know if any of them have actually used the word "unique" to describe just how special they are, they are definitely impressed with themselves and their very "unique" place in the kingdom of God.
So what does it mean to be unique in the first place? The word is defined as, "existing as the only one or the sole example; single; solitary in type or characteristics; having no like or equal; unparalleled, incomparable; limited in occurrence to a given class, situation or area." You and I both know plenty of pastors and churches that have deluded themselves into thinking their church/ministry fits these descriptions. This thinking stems from a level of arrogance that seems to be pandemic in the American church today. When you add to that arrogance the willful ignorance that causes a person or church to convince themselves they should pay no attention to what others in the Body of Christ are doing, you end up with a fractured spiritual landscape, full of competitive, narcissistic, and un-Christlike churches and ministries who are actually part of the larger cultural problem rather part of the cultural solution.
Some of the common statements of these types of churches include, "We don't care what the church down the street is doing, we're going to preach the gospel here (which is typically code for "the gospel according to us")," or "We are (fill in the name of the church/ministry/denomination) and we have no need to know what other churches/ministries/denominations are doing because they should be copying us, not the other way around." One of my favorites is, "We're not going to compromise the truth," which means those ministries who are doing things differently are automatically compromising the message of Jesus. This would all be funny if it weren't so blatantly full of self-worship. But, there's nothing funny about it.
When arrogance and ignorance collide, you end up with the statements and scenarios I've just described. The larger issue, of course, is why so many of us claim allegiance to the mystical, universal Body of Christ, but at the same time do everything within our power to separate ourselves from the rest of those who make up that Body. So, with that in mind, here is a brief open letter to all of the "leaders" of "unique" ministries out there:
Dear senior pastor/staff pastor/ministry leader,
I know you think you're unique. You're not. Stop it. I invite you to join with your brothers and sisters throughout the rest of Christ's Church so that together we can all be part of the solution.
Sincerely,
Your brother Jerry
Hmmm...unity. What a unique idea.
So what does it mean to be unique in the first place? The word is defined as, "existing as the only one or the sole example; single; solitary in type or characteristics; having no like or equal; unparalleled, incomparable; limited in occurrence to a given class, situation or area." You and I both know plenty of pastors and churches that have deluded themselves into thinking their church/ministry fits these descriptions. This thinking stems from a level of arrogance that seems to be pandemic in the American church today. When you add to that arrogance the willful ignorance that causes a person or church to convince themselves they should pay no attention to what others in the Body of Christ are doing, you end up with a fractured spiritual landscape, full of competitive, narcissistic, and un-Christlike churches and ministries who are actually part of the larger cultural problem rather part of the cultural solution.
Some of the common statements of these types of churches include, "We don't care what the church down the street is doing, we're going to preach the gospel here (which is typically code for "the gospel according to us")," or "We are (fill in the name of the church/ministry/denomination) and we have no need to know what other churches/ministries/denominations are doing because they should be copying us, not the other way around." One of my favorites is, "We're not going to compromise the truth," which means those ministries who are doing things differently are automatically compromising the message of Jesus. This would all be funny if it weren't so blatantly full of self-worship. But, there's nothing funny about it.
When arrogance and ignorance collide, you end up with the statements and scenarios I've just described. The larger issue, of course, is why so many of us claim allegiance to the mystical, universal Body of Christ, but at the same time do everything within our power to separate ourselves from the rest of those who make up that Body. So, with that in mind, here is a brief open letter to all of the "leaders" of "unique" ministries out there:
Dear senior pastor/staff pastor/ministry leader,
I know you think you're unique. You're not. Stop it. I invite you to join with your brothers and sisters throughout the rest of Christ's Church so that together we can all be part of the solution.
Sincerely,
Your brother Jerry
Hmmm...unity. What a unique idea.
Monday, September 21, 2009
An old ex-friend
I ran into Certainty last week. I'd forgotten how hard he can punch. He was waiting for me in a class at a local university where I was guest-lecturing. Since I was lecturing at a Christian school, I knew that Certainty would probably make an appearance, but I guess I had forgotten how disagreeable Certainty can be. You see, Certainty and I used to be very good friends. In fact, I was one of his best promoters. But the day came when I began to realize that my faith was requiring something more than Certainty could deliver, something that made room for Discovery, Question, Wondering, as well as Mystery and Amazement. Certainty has no use for any of these guys and no use for anyone who might be willing to befriend them. So, Certainty told me I had to make a choice. I chose the journey to which I knew I was being invited, and Certainty and I went our separate ways.
This new journey required me to actually deepen my faith in Jesus, not abandon it. But, this deepening of faith also required me to let go of some things Certainty had insisted I hold on to. This letting go was neither easy or well-received. Certainty has lots of followers, and they don't respond very well to those of us who have felt a call to experiencing more of just Him and less of the stuff that may or may not be about Him. During this journey I have discovered that I had to make a choice: I could either follow Christ or I could follow the religion of Christianity, but I couldn't do both. I chose Christ. Not everybody has been excited about that choice. I don't care. The choice wasn't about them anyway.
Which leads me back to that classroom last week and my interaction (maybe more like a collision) with Certainty. He's still just as loud, just as insistent, just as willing to belittle and dismiss. But I also noticed he didn't have much company. In fact, he didn't have any company in the room. There were, however, several in the room who were hungry for more of Jesus, because they seemed to know that they could trust Jesus with their questions and wondering. I told one of them something I know to be absolutely true: Certainty will fail you. When it does, that's when the arms of Jesus are the most open and available. Of that I am certain.
This new journey required me to actually deepen my faith in Jesus, not abandon it. But, this deepening of faith also required me to let go of some things Certainty had insisted I hold on to. This letting go was neither easy or well-received. Certainty has lots of followers, and they don't respond very well to those of us who have felt a call to experiencing more of just Him and less of the stuff that may or may not be about Him. During this journey I have discovered that I had to make a choice: I could either follow Christ or I could follow the religion of Christianity, but I couldn't do both. I chose Christ. Not everybody has been excited about that choice. I don't care. The choice wasn't about them anyway.
Which leads me back to that classroom last week and my interaction (maybe more like a collision) with Certainty. He's still just as loud, just as insistent, just as willing to belittle and dismiss. But I also noticed he didn't have much company. In fact, he didn't have any company in the room. There were, however, several in the room who were hungry for more of Jesus, because they seemed to know that they could trust Jesus with their questions and wondering. I told one of them something I know to be absolutely true: Certainty will fail you. When it does, that's when the arms of Jesus are the most open and available. Of that I am certain.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Pneumonia
I've been sick for almost 3 weeks now with what has turned into pneumonia. I've never had pneumonia before, so even though I'm a novice where pneumonia is concerned, I can say with complete certainty that this sucks.
That's the extent of it. Now I'm out of breath.
That's the extent of it. Now I'm out of breath.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Part of the Cure
A week ago last night I was in Atlanta at the Coldplay show. I've seen Coldplay before and I'll have to say they're my one of my two favorite bands (second only to a particular quartet from Dublin that I'll be seeing live later this year). This most recent Coldplay show was quite a bit different for me than the previous times I've seen them, however. I was at this show as a volunteer for OxFam America (www.oxfamamerica.org), an organization dedicated to serving those affected by extreme poverty, as well working to eradicate extreme poverty itself...as Nelson Mandela has said, poverty is not natural, but man-made, and therefore we can end it if we truly want to.
The purpose of our work at this show was to get as many Coldplay fans as possible to sign a petition that calls on President Obama and the Congress to devote more energy and resources to the issue of climate change, as climate change-related disasters affect the world's poor 20 TIMES MORE than the rest of us. Coldplay has been heavily involved with OxFam since the early days of the band, so a lot of Coldplay fans know about the work OxFam does, and are proud to be part of it.
We stood in the cool rain of the late afternoon and early evening getting fans to sign the petition while the warm-up bands (Howling Bells and Pete Yorn) played, and then joined several thousand of the rest of our friends on the lawn as Chris, Jonny, Guy and Will reminded us again why this music means so much to us. Then we were privileged to help hand out the band's brand new live cd that they're giving away for free at their shows and on their website. It was a lot of fun, not to mention exhilirating to be there working on behalf of those who are typically not heard, and therefore rely on voices like yours and mine to change their world.
But, the most important part of the night for me personally was not the show or the people who our team signed up for the cause. Instead, it was meeting a young woman named Soha, who is the OxFam rep on this leg of the Coldplay tour. She made sure we all knew everything we were supposed to know in order to make the most of our efforts as volunteers, plus she did a wonderful job making all of us feel welcome and important to the cause. She was born in Beirut, immigrated as a child to the U.S., and she grew up in Los Angeles.
As we were walking around the venue, she asked me what led me to become part of OxFam, as well as what kind of work I did. I told her that I do a few different things, which include being the co-founder and futurist for Second Life of Chattanooga (www.secondlifechattanooga.org), an organization dedicated to raising awareness about the issue of the sexual exploitation and trafficking of children in the U.S. She seemed very intrigued about how I came to be involved in such an issue, and I told her that a couple of years ago I heard someone in a meeting in Orlando briefly mention the issue of trafficking in the U.S. and I knew I had to do something about it.
Soha was amazed that hearing a couple of lines from someone in a meeting would cause me to take this kind of action. So amazed, in fact, that she told me she was doing a blog while on the tour, and she wanted to video me for it, letting me tell people briefly what Second Life is about, and how it fits with the mission of OxFam (the youtube link can be found at www.oxfam.org/coldplay and then look for the May 18th entry).
Once the show was over and we'd handed out the free cd's, put away all the info., taken down the OxFam tent and said goodbye to the rest of the team, Soha and I stood next to the seats where thousands had just been part of a great experience, and she had me talk for just a minute about why I was doing what I was doing on behalf of so many who are waiting for someone to set them free. As we walked out of the venue, Soha once again told me that she was inspired by my decision to do the kind of social justice work I'm doing. It was then that I told her I did this out of a sense of calling, and I finally let her know that I am a follower of Jesus, as well as a pastor.
I told her that I don't usually lead with this information, as it has a tendency to shut down dialogue because of the very crappy way so many Christians present themselves these days. Soha immediately began to tell me that she understood where I was coming from, as so many who share her Muslim faith have made it about nothing more than "the rules." We both talked about how we felt our respective faiths called us to something deeper and higher, and that we could be part of something better than our particular groups so often were known to be part of. Like those words from the Coldplay song "Clocks," we both find ourselves choosing to be, "...part of the cure," and not "...part of the disease."
We said our goodbyes, hoping to re-connect further on up the road. In the early morning hours of a rainy Monday in Atlanta, the young woman in the head-scarf from Los Angeles and the middle-aged man in the baseball cap and bandana from Tennessee were part of the cure. Thanks be to God.
The purpose of our work at this show was to get as many Coldplay fans as possible to sign a petition that calls on President Obama and the Congress to devote more energy and resources to the issue of climate change, as climate change-related disasters affect the world's poor 20 TIMES MORE than the rest of us. Coldplay has been heavily involved with OxFam since the early days of the band, so a lot of Coldplay fans know about the work OxFam does, and are proud to be part of it.
We stood in the cool rain of the late afternoon and early evening getting fans to sign the petition while the warm-up bands (Howling Bells and Pete Yorn) played, and then joined several thousand of the rest of our friends on the lawn as Chris, Jonny, Guy and Will reminded us again why this music means so much to us. Then we were privileged to help hand out the band's brand new live cd that they're giving away for free at their shows and on their website. It was a lot of fun, not to mention exhilirating to be there working on behalf of those who are typically not heard, and therefore rely on voices like yours and mine to change their world.
But, the most important part of the night for me personally was not the show or the people who our team signed up for the cause. Instead, it was meeting a young woman named Soha, who is the OxFam rep on this leg of the Coldplay tour. She made sure we all knew everything we were supposed to know in order to make the most of our efforts as volunteers, plus she did a wonderful job making all of us feel welcome and important to the cause. She was born in Beirut, immigrated as a child to the U.S., and she grew up in Los Angeles.
As we were walking around the venue, she asked me what led me to become part of OxFam, as well as what kind of work I did. I told her that I do a few different things, which include being the co-founder and futurist for Second Life of Chattanooga (www.secondlifechattanooga.org), an organization dedicated to raising awareness about the issue of the sexual exploitation and trafficking of children in the U.S. She seemed very intrigued about how I came to be involved in such an issue, and I told her that a couple of years ago I heard someone in a meeting in Orlando briefly mention the issue of trafficking in the U.S. and I knew I had to do something about it.
Soha was amazed that hearing a couple of lines from someone in a meeting would cause me to take this kind of action. So amazed, in fact, that she told me she was doing a blog while on the tour, and she wanted to video me for it, letting me tell people briefly what Second Life is about, and how it fits with the mission of OxFam (the youtube link can be found at www.oxfam.org/coldplay and then look for the May 18th entry).
Once the show was over and we'd handed out the free cd's, put away all the info., taken down the OxFam tent and said goodbye to the rest of the team, Soha and I stood next to the seats where thousands had just been part of a great experience, and she had me talk for just a minute about why I was doing what I was doing on behalf of so many who are waiting for someone to set them free. As we walked out of the venue, Soha once again told me that she was inspired by my decision to do the kind of social justice work I'm doing. It was then that I told her I did this out of a sense of calling, and I finally let her know that I am a follower of Jesus, as well as a pastor.
I told her that I don't usually lead with this information, as it has a tendency to shut down dialogue because of the very crappy way so many Christians present themselves these days. Soha immediately began to tell me that she understood where I was coming from, as so many who share her Muslim faith have made it about nothing more than "the rules." We both talked about how we felt our respective faiths called us to something deeper and higher, and that we could be part of something better than our particular groups so often were known to be part of. Like those words from the Coldplay song "Clocks," we both find ourselves choosing to be, "...part of the cure," and not "...part of the disease."
We said our goodbyes, hoping to re-connect further on up the road. In the early morning hours of a rainy Monday in Atlanta, the young woman in the head-scarf from Los Angeles and the middle-aged man in the baseball cap and bandana from Tennessee were part of the cure. Thanks be to God.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Re-connecting
I heard from a long-time friend yesterday, someone I hadn't talked to in quite a few years. During college and for several years after he and I were closely connected and stayed in regular contact. As so often happens as we move through our lives, however, we lost touch after a while, and went several years without hearing from each other. But, through the wonders of Facebook (the social network that seems to be almost exclusively staked out by middle-aged people at this point), we found each other a little while ago, and yesterday we had out first real time, voice to voice conversation in quite a while.
It was one of those times that you've probably experienced before, as if we'd had taken a brief break in an already on-going conversation, and then picked it back up with, "Okay, so what was it you were saying?" We laughed in the same way, shared the same confidence and fear about life and ourselves, expressing some of the same hopes and doubts, only now through a middle-aged filter. God, it was so good to talk to him, this life-long friend of mine, the older brother I never had until he came into my life all those years ago. Some face to face time for later this year was discussed, and is greatly hoped for.
These re-connections always leave me wondering about both friendship and what it means to be the person I am. Friendship is a tricky thing, something I take very seriously, a fact that I have found over the course of my life places me in a minority. What most people call friendship is really nothing more than our being acquainted with certain surface facts about another person, all the while knowing little to nothing of the truth about that person, who they are in their most hopeful place, as well as in their darkest. One of my on-going frustrations is that it seems many people are satisfied with this surface acquaintance, as it makes the whole idea of friendship much more linear and sanitized than I believe it was ever meant to be. These surface acquaintances also allow others to rip you apart when the real truth of you, the one they never took the time to get to know, begins to come out, shattering not only their view of you, but also their view of themselves, pointing out the disconnect between what you might need from them and what they're willing, or maybe even equipped, to give another person.
When it comes to being myself, each time I re-connect with a true friend such as the one I spoke with yesterday, I can't help but be reminded of who I hoped to be all those years ago, as well as who I swore I'd never be, and how I've tricked myself a bit on both sides of that equation over the years. My friend yesterday reminded me that at least some, maybe even a lot, of the person who hoped to become certain things in his 20's still remains, only maybe the man in his 40's knows a bit more about what is worth becoming and what isn't than the guy in his 20's knew. He also reminded me that true friends also want to occupy the space of failure and it's accompanying pain with you, as the true friend knows that pain is sacred, but when shared becomes powerful and life-giving as well.
So, yesterday my friend and I gave a bit more oxygen to each other's dreams, as well as experienced a bit of the life that only pain can bring. We were and are two men still becoming, still hoping for the best, still believing we will find what it is we're looking for, and that we will celebrate those discoveries together.
It was great hearing from you JWD. It was also great to hear from myself.
It was one of those times that you've probably experienced before, as if we'd had taken a brief break in an already on-going conversation, and then picked it back up with, "Okay, so what was it you were saying?" We laughed in the same way, shared the same confidence and fear about life and ourselves, expressing some of the same hopes and doubts, only now through a middle-aged filter. God, it was so good to talk to him, this life-long friend of mine, the older brother I never had until he came into my life all those years ago. Some face to face time for later this year was discussed, and is greatly hoped for.
These re-connections always leave me wondering about both friendship and what it means to be the person I am. Friendship is a tricky thing, something I take very seriously, a fact that I have found over the course of my life places me in a minority. What most people call friendship is really nothing more than our being acquainted with certain surface facts about another person, all the while knowing little to nothing of the truth about that person, who they are in their most hopeful place, as well as in their darkest. One of my on-going frustrations is that it seems many people are satisfied with this surface acquaintance, as it makes the whole idea of friendship much more linear and sanitized than I believe it was ever meant to be. These surface acquaintances also allow others to rip you apart when the real truth of you, the one they never took the time to get to know, begins to come out, shattering not only their view of you, but also their view of themselves, pointing out the disconnect between what you might need from them and what they're willing, or maybe even equipped, to give another person.
When it comes to being myself, each time I re-connect with a true friend such as the one I spoke with yesterday, I can't help but be reminded of who I hoped to be all those years ago, as well as who I swore I'd never be, and how I've tricked myself a bit on both sides of that equation over the years. My friend yesterday reminded me that at least some, maybe even a lot, of the person who hoped to become certain things in his 20's still remains, only maybe the man in his 40's knows a bit more about what is worth becoming and what isn't than the guy in his 20's knew. He also reminded me that true friends also want to occupy the space of failure and it's accompanying pain with you, as the true friend knows that pain is sacred, but when shared becomes powerful and life-giving as well.
So, yesterday my friend and I gave a bit more oxygen to each other's dreams, as well as experienced a bit of the life that only pain can bring. We were and are two men still becoming, still hoping for the best, still believing we will find what it is we're looking for, and that we will celebrate those discoveries together.
It was great hearing from you JWD. It was also great to hear from myself.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Rocket Man
Shortly before my 9th birthday (back in the Stone Age of 1969), my dad asked me what gift ideas I had for that year. Since I knew we would be taking our regular summer trip to Florida to see my grandparents, and I knew when we would be there, I told him that I wanted him to take me to Cape Kennedy and let me see the launch of Apollo 11, the first manned space flight to the moon. My birthday is July 15, and the launch was scheduled for the 16th. That morning my dad, my grandfather, my younger brother and myself got up early and headed to the Cape to watch Armstrong, Collins and Aldrin take off on what at the time was considered by some to be an improbable and impossible trip. I can still clearly remember the sight of that space ship in the distance, the roar we heard and the shaking we felt as it lifted off, and then the way the rocket looked against that blue Florida sky. As a then 9 year-old boy, I was absolutely amazed at the sight, as was my then 30 year-old father and my then 52 year-old grandfather (I guess I wasn't paying attention to the reaction of my then 6 year-old brother). No matter what your age, to witness men climbing into a rocket with the intent to land on the moon was something by which you could not help but be amazed, especially if you were there to watch them begin the journey. A few days later, Neil Armstrong summed the whole thing up, as he took his first steps on the surface of the moon, calling it "one small step" for him, and "one giant leap" for the rest of us.
I have always been captivated by the idea of going far, of going where maybe no one else is willing to go, or even thinks possible to get to in the first place. Just this week I have been reminded of my own desire to fly, to explore and to be part of something that is a giant leap for not only myself, but many others. Maybe I've thought about it because I've run up against some more of those people who think going far is neither possible or good. As I look back over my life to this point, I recognize the presence of these people throughout my journey, but it seems they have been especially present over the last decade, with some of them showing up at their cowardly worst over the last few years. In the past few months, some of them have shown up again, reminding me of the fact they have no intention of blasting off into the unknown, and telling me I have no business thinking that I can or should either. One of the most dangerous things these people can do is to vilify those who dream of flight, of exploration and discovery. How selfish/short-sighted/cowardly must a person be who chooses to cover their own fear of the unknown by attacking those who decide that their own fears and uncertainties, no matter how deep they may be, will not keep them from boarding the rocket and strapping in for the ride of their lives? I guess the answer to the question would be, "very."
But, these ground-based critics always seem to gain an audience, and the audience appears to give credibility to the criticism leveled at those who long to see where the rocket will take them. And, no matter who you are or how thick-skinned you might be, the criticism does take a toll over time, especially when those who remain on the ground are convinced that those who they criticize can't feel pain. Or, even worse than that, they could care less about the pain their criticism inflicts. This week has reminded me of how my desire to be on the rocket is perceived as a threat by some people, a threat that in their minds must be contained, if not stamped out completely. To help me better understand this, my wife just this morning compared those of us who desire the adventure of the rocket with the critics and their choice to live their lives on a carousel. Even if there are those who appear to be in the "lead" positions on the carousel, she pointed out to me that they're still doing nothing but going in a circle, "leading" others nowhere. Given the context in which I want to fly, it also appears that the carousel stops every seven days for the "leaders" and their "followers" to celebrate how great it is to be on the carousel.
The point made by my wife that impacted me the most was the fact that in spite of my desire to go where the rocket may take me, I seem to still fall back into needing those on the carousel to give me their approval for being on the rocket in the first place. How ridiculous is that, looking to people who do whatever they can to keep me off of the rocket, as well as to keep the rocket itself on the ground, to finally celebrate me wanting to fly? Ridiculous indeed, and I thank God that once again my amazing wife has pointed out to me what should have already been obvious to me, but I somehow missed.
What is your rocket? What does adventure mean to you? Have you even asked yourself those questions? Or, did you once ask those questions, but have the critics on the carousel caused you to finally abandon your dreams and betray yourself so that you haven't given any thought in a long time to where the rocket might take you? One thing I know about the critics on the carousel...they will be no kinder or affirming to you even if you decide to jump on the carousel with them than they were when they perceived you as a threat to the security of their carousel culture. The more I live, the more I realize that the only people worthy of even hearing your dreams are those who actually know what it means to dream, who refuse to remain on the ground with the rest of those who tell themselves lies every day just to cope with the fact they stopped dreaming a long time ago. The people with whom you know you can share your dreams and who know they can share theirs with you are the ones who know that the small steps taken that lead to giant leaps are not taken on the ground, and most definitely not on the carousel of self-deceit and falsehood.
Plus, I've always thought the music played on those carousels was really lame and creepy.
I have always been captivated by the idea of going far, of going where maybe no one else is willing to go, or even thinks possible to get to in the first place. Just this week I have been reminded of my own desire to fly, to explore and to be part of something that is a giant leap for not only myself, but many others. Maybe I've thought about it because I've run up against some more of those people who think going far is neither possible or good. As I look back over my life to this point, I recognize the presence of these people throughout my journey, but it seems they have been especially present over the last decade, with some of them showing up at their cowardly worst over the last few years. In the past few months, some of them have shown up again, reminding me of the fact they have no intention of blasting off into the unknown, and telling me I have no business thinking that I can or should either. One of the most dangerous things these people can do is to vilify those who dream of flight, of exploration and discovery. How selfish/short-sighted/cowardly must a person be who chooses to cover their own fear of the unknown by attacking those who decide that their own fears and uncertainties, no matter how deep they may be, will not keep them from boarding the rocket and strapping in for the ride of their lives? I guess the answer to the question would be, "very."
But, these ground-based critics always seem to gain an audience, and the audience appears to give credibility to the criticism leveled at those who long to see where the rocket will take them. And, no matter who you are or how thick-skinned you might be, the criticism does take a toll over time, especially when those who remain on the ground are convinced that those who they criticize can't feel pain. Or, even worse than that, they could care less about the pain their criticism inflicts. This week has reminded me of how my desire to be on the rocket is perceived as a threat by some people, a threat that in their minds must be contained, if not stamped out completely. To help me better understand this, my wife just this morning compared those of us who desire the adventure of the rocket with the critics and their choice to live their lives on a carousel. Even if there are those who appear to be in the "lead" positions on the carousel, she pointed out to me that they're still doing nothing but going in a circle, "leading" others nowhere. Given the context in which I want to fly, it also appears that the carousel stops every seven days for the "leaders" and their "followers" to celebrate how great it is to be on the carousel.
The point made by my wife that impacted me the most was the fact that in spite of my desire to go where the rocket may take me, I seem to still fall back into needing those on the carousel to give me their approval for being on the rocket in the first place. How ridiculous is that, looking to people who do whatever they can to keep me off of the rocket, as well as to keep the rocket itself on the ground, to finally celebrate me wanting to fly? Ridiculous indeed, and I thank God that once again my amazing wife has pointed out to me what should have already been obvious to me, but I somehow missed.
What is your rocket? What does adventure mean to you? Have you even asked yourself those questions? Or, did you once ask those questions, but have the critics on the carousel caused you to finally abandon your dreams and betray yourself so that you haven't given any thought in a long time to where the rocket might take you? One thing I know about the critics on the carousel...they will be no kinder or affirming to you even if you decide to jump on the carousel with them than they were when they perceived you as a threat to the security of their carousel culture. The more I live, the more I realize that the only people worthy of even hearing your dreams are those who actually know what it means to dream, who refuse to remain on the ground with the rest of those who tell themselves lies every day just to cope with the fact they stopped dreaming a long time ago. The people with whom you know you can share your dreams and who know they can share theirs with you are the ones who know that the small steps taken that lead to giant leaps are not taken on the ground, and most definitely not on the carousel of self-deceit and falsehood.
Plus, I've always thought the music played on those carousels was really lame and creepy.
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