What I always say on Easter

The following is my so-called Easter Manifesto, which I read at the conclusion of my Easter sermon at FPC in Reading each year. I know the time has come and gone, but perhaps you may still enjoy it.

The scope of redemption is every bit as far-reaching as the scope of the fall. When mankind chose disobedience, every aspect of the universe was corrupted, including every aspect of our lives. And redemption is God's answer to that corruption, redemption is the renewal of every aspect of our lives. Nothing is outside the realm of the fall and redemption: not work, family, sexuality, music, recreation, visual arts, mathematics, engineering, philosophy, communication--nothing. Hence why the Apostle Paul writes that Christ's death was for the reconciliation of all things.

In each aspect of our lives we have a choice: renewal or perversion. Obedience or disobedience. This is true for bankers as well as stay-at-home-moms, for writers as well as engineers, for actors as well as scientists, for mechanics as well as musicians, for government employees as well as small business owners. Each one of us can choose to perform our duties at work in a way that pleases God, in a way that restores and reconciles our particular institutions or vocations, or to perform our duties in such a way that is a perversion of God's will.

If we choose obedience in our jobs, we will be renewing the industry, institution, or vocation in which we work. We will be reconciling it to God. Al Wolters writes, "The gospel affects government in a specifically political manner, art in a peculiarly aesthetic manner, scholarship in a uniquely theoretical manner, and churches in a distinctly ecclesiastical manner. It makes possible a renewal of each [aspect of creation] from within, not without."*

It is a mistake to separate the so-called "secular" from the "sacred." Such a distinction leads to either complete disengagement or complete assimilation. This is why we see churches and traditions that encourage their members to avoid the "secular world" all together, suggesting that it is completely evil and without hope. This is also why we see other churches and traditions completely assimilate to the "secular world" without thinking critically about any of its aspects. From a biblical perspective, there is no secular /sacred divide. Everything belongs to God. The creation was good when God made it, but human disobedience has marred it. Redemption is here to renew it. Technology is not evil. It can be used for evil (biological warfare), or it can be used for good (medical advancements). Sexuality is not evil. It can be practiced in a deviant manner, contrary to God's intentions for it, or it can be celebrated and practiced as the blessing it was given us to be. The same can be said for art, music, writing, dancing, food, drink, exercise, agriculture, education--in essence, all aspects of life.

We are invited, we are called by God himself, to join in this effort of reconciliation. We are called to choose obedience. We are called to renew the institutions we work for, the traditions we belong to, the families we raise, and the communities in which we live. God's Spirit renews each one of us, and empowers us to work for the renewal of every aspect of life. The question that lies before us today is, will we respond to his call? Will we have an active faith that joins God in his effort to reconcile all things, or will we passively sit by and await an ethereal existence in some far off, spiritual place?

Will we answer Jesus' invitation for forgiveness and reconciliation, and join with him in the cosmic effort to restore all things? Will we work to renew the Reading Hospital? Will we work to bring restoration to justice in Berks County? Will we work to achieve God's will as we raise our children? Will we commit our lives to bringing renewal and reconciliation where we work, whether it's at McDonald's or Macy's? Will we bring hope, faith, and love into the Reading School District? Or Wyomissing? Or Wilson? Will we faithfully communicate and allow people to experience God's grace through the music we write and perform?

My hope, my vision, my challenge for us today, is that we might be a people who answer God's call. May we be a people who join with him in the restoration of the universe, in the reconciliation of all things, in the renewal of every aspect of our lives. May we be a people who celebrate the resurrection, and live in light of its significance. Amen. 

* Albert M. Wolters, Creation Regained: Biblical Basics for a Reformational Worldview (2nd ed.; Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2005), 90. 

Beyond the Edge of the Board

Recently I've been wondering what it would be like to transcend. The thought occurred to me as I sat in on a meeting one night. The participants (I was merely there as an observer) were arguing with each other. It seemed obvious to me that the issue being discussed wasn't worth the way people were treating each other--which is probably true in most arguments. The discussion was largely inconclusive by the end, at least on a superficial level, but on a deeper level it certainly accomplished the engendering of ill-will and distrust between the parties involved. And so I thought to myself in that moment: What would it be like to transcend?

It reminded me of a scene from the David Lynch/Mark Frost television series, Twin Peaks. In this particular scene FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper (played by Kyle MacLachlan) is being interviewed by Internal Affairs agents who are investigating him on various, serious charges. The charges are false, but if convicted Cooper would not only lose his job with the Bureau but also go to prison. He chooses not to defend himself, and the investigating officer goes off the record to urge him to "play the game" in the right way--to make "the right moves." In response, Cooper says: "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. And I've started to focus out beyond the edge of the board." Beyond the edge of the board. As I sat in that meeting it occurred to me that that's where I want to be. As Cooper explains when asked what he means: "The sound the wind makes through the vines. The sentience of animals. What we fear in the dark and what lies beyond the darkness...I'm talking about seeing beyond fear...About looking at the world with love."

When life hands you lemons, use them for their nutritional qualities--whatever they are... I'm not a doctor.

I don't know about you, but when bad crap happens to me I tend to just freak out. There isn't a whole lot of introspection going on at the moment of bad crap arrival. Which betrays a pretty telling thing about my viewpoint on life: I generally assume that obstacles or difficulties in life should be avoided at all cost. I used to think it was near impossible to argue with such a statement, until I read an argument against it... and it was a good one.

Our good friend Epictetus thinks that such a view is downright silly. In his treatise entitled, "Concerning Divine Providence," Epictetus asks his audience why they complain when bad things happen to them. Most of us probably would think it's fairly obvious why we complain when bad things happen to us, but apparently it's not. Epictetus contends that bad things are essentially the only things that make us better. Without all those difficult circumstances and trying times, we would have nothing to show for our progress in this life. We would be static. He utilizes an example to prove his point that would have been particularly relevant to his Greek-speaking audience: Heracles. Now, to us in the West, that would be Hercules. Hercules was known for accomplishing a great deal of "feats" in Greek mythology (we probably all read about them in middle school at some point), including killing a particularly nasty lion, an ugly snake-like creature with numerous heads called a hydra, capturing a fleet-footed deer, and a frightening, feisty boar. You may remember this. Epictetus asks the question: What if that lion never existed? What if the hydra wasn't available to fight? What if that deer was fat and slow? OK, well, he didn't really ask that last question but he would have if he had thought about how funny yet relevant to his argument it would be. If Hercules never went through those hardships, what would he have become? Certainly not a hero. He would have been just one more slob, sitting on his rock or whatever they used for couches back then, doing whatever they did before the NFL monopolized the attention-spans of all adult males in the western hemisphere of the earth.

Epictetus says, Look, God gave you all these abilities and faculties with which you can overcome hardship and become stronger having done so. Why waste that? Why avoid those difficult times and obstacles? Don't you know that God provides even them for you to use for your benefit? Once again, the author of the Epistle of James in our New Testaments says essentially the same thing (I pointed out the similarities between the Epistle of James and its contemporary philosophers like Epictetus in a previous post). James writes in 1:2-4: "Consider it to be completely joyous, my brothers, whenever you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. Let endurance have its complete effect, in order that you might be complete and whole, lacking in nothing." James goes on to remind his audience that God is the giver of all good things, which in this context seems to even include these so-called "trials."

Now, it is worth pointing out that tragedy seems to be something different than "trials." I do not think that the death of a loved one is what God ever wants--in fact, if the Bible is true God never actually wants death for anyone, not even his enemies (cf. Ezekiel 18:32)! What seems to be more in view here for each author are the more mundane disturbances that we all experience on a more or less weekly basis in our lives. Like your car breaking down, or that new co-worker who is rude and annoying, or that neighbor who insists on making his ice sculptures with a chainsaw every Saturday morning starting around 5:00am. You get the picture. These are all potential opportunities for advancement, as they say in the business world (at least, that's what I hear they say--I work for a church).

We do not get to choose whether or not these things happen to us, but we do get to choose how we react to these things. We can choose to worry. We can choose to whine and complain. We can choose to act like it's not even happening. But none of those decisions will accomplish anything. If we choose to use these hardships for our own personal growth... well then, now we're speaking Epictetus' language.

Most of us try to secure the Good Life for ourselves by doing everything in our power (which is not much) to avoid obstacles and challenges. We think that the Good Life is one that lacks all hardship. But according to Epictetus and the authors of the Bible, that's not exactly true. In fact, it is completely false. The things most of us spend our time worrying about and fruitlessly trying to avoid are the very things that give us the potential to improve. Living the Good Life means recognizing that we can't control events, we can merely control our response to those events, and thus we can utilize whatever happens to us to benefit our own personal growth and development. For the Christian, this means we use those hardships to form ourselves into God's own likeness, so that we can experience that much more of what the Kingdom of God has to offer, both now and forever.

Anxiety has the startling capacity to kill obedience... and other things we learn the hard way.

We all worry. Some of us worry more than others, for sure; but it seems to be universally true that anxiety plagues each one of us to some degree. I spoke about this briefly in a previous post, citing an excellent Taoist parable about the pointlessness of anxiety. This time I want to deal specifically with Jesus' thoughts on anxiety, as they are presented in Matthew's account of the Gospel. To do so, we should really take the time to read Matthew 6:19-7:12 in its entirety. So here it is:


6:19 Do not save treasure for yourself on earth, where moths and rust destroy and where thieves break-in and steal; 20 but save treasure for yourself in heaven, where moths and rust don't destroy and where thieves do not break-in or steal. 21 For where your treasure is, there also will be your heart.
22 The eye is the lamp of the body. Therefore, if your eye is good, your whole body will be shining; 23 but if your eye is evil, your whole body will be dark. Therefore, if your light is actually darkness, how great is that darkness!
24 No one is able to serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will cling fast to the one and despise the other. You are not able to serve both God and money.
25 Therefore I say to you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will wear. Is not life greater than food and the body greater than clothing? 26 Consider the birds in the sky, how they do not sow seed or harvest or gather into the storehouse, yet your heavenly Father feeds them; are you not far superior to them? 27 And who among you by being anxious is able to add a single moment to your life? 28 And why do you worry about clothing? Look at the lilies in the fields, how they grow. They do not labor or spin; 29 but I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory was clothed like one of these. 30 But if that is how God clothes the grass in the fields which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the oven...aren't you much more valuable, you who have little faith? 31 Therefore do not be anxious saying, What will we eat? or, What will we drink? or, What will we wear? 32 For all these things the Gentiles seek to acquire; for your heavenly Father knows that you need all of these things. 33 But seek first the Kingdom and its righteousness, and these things will be given to you. 34 Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious about itself; each day has enough trouble of its own.
7:1 Do not judge, so that you will not be judged. 2 For by whatever judgment you use to judge, you will be judged yourself, and by whatever measure you measure out, it will be measured out to you. 3 How is it that you see the speck in your brother's eye, but you do not notice the whole beam of wood in your own eye? 4 Or how can you say to your brother, Allow me to remove the speck from your eye, while the whole beam of wood is in your eye? 5 You fake play-actors! First remove the whole beam of wood from your own eye, and then you can see clearly enough to remove the speck from your brother's eye. 6 Do not give what is sacred to dogs, and do not cast your pearls in front of pigs; lest they trample them with their feet and, having turned around, tear you to pieces.
7 Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened for you. 8 For everyone who asks receives, and everyone who seeks finds, and to the one who knocks it will be opened. 9 Who among you, if his son asks for bread, will give him a stone? 10 Or if he asks for a fish, will give him a snake? 11 Therefore, if you who are evil know to give good gifts to your children, how much more so will your Father, who is in heaven, give good things to those who ask him! 12 Therefore, whatever it is you would desire that other people do to you, in that manner you should treat them; for this is the Law and the Prophets.


I'm willing to bet that at some point while you were reading the above passage, you thought to yourself, I think he included too much of the text from Matthew--didn't he just mean to quote 6:25-34? You see, unfortunately, many people believe (consciously or unconsciously) that Matthew 5-7 is just a conglomeration of random sayings by Jesus pulled together by Matthew and placed here in one big block of teaching because he simply didn't know what else to do with them. Nothing could be further from the truth. The so-called Sermon on the Mount of Matthew 5-7 is a cohesive whole, meant to be taken together from beginning to end. I have selected the smallest portion possible to make our discussion of Jesus' view of anxiety easier to handle in-depth.

A few things need clarifying about this text before we can follow Jesus' line of reasoning from beginning to end. First, verses 22-23 seem strange and out of place to many of us. Not only does the analogy of "good eye" versus "bad eye" make no sense to us, but the verses prior discuss material wealth as do the verses immediately following--so why throw this random saying in here? It helps a great deal to know that a "good eye" was a common idiom in Jewish circles for generosity, while a bad or evil eye was a way of euphemistically calling someone stingy or miserly. Hence, Jesus is still talking about money. He essentially argues that how generous one is with their money is a pretty good indicator of how generous they are in life in general. Conversely, if one is stingy with their money chances are they will be stingy in just about every aspect of their relationships with others.

Second, when the Bible juxtaposes "love" and "hate" it can be a little misleading for us English speakers. "Love" and "hate," in the English language, largely refer to emotive responses. In the Bible, the words commonly translated as "love" and "hate" do not usually refer to emotions, but rather to actions. "Love" often means to treat someone or something as having great value, while "hate" (when juxtaposed with "love") means to treat someone or something as having little or less value. Don't believe me? Read Genesis 29 and Deuteronomy 21-22, the context of those passages makes little sense if one understands "love" and "hate" as being emotionally driven responses rather than conscious actions. The same is true for Malachi 1:2-3, which is notoriously quoted by Paul in Romans 9:13 (one of the most grotesquely misinterpreted statements of Paul, to say the least). Jesus is not saying that if you "love" God you will hate money and wish that it never existed, nor is he saying that if you "love" money you will have some kind of emotional hatred for God. He is simply pointing out that, in life, the priorities of God often run completely counter to the accumulation of material wealth, and in those moments you will have to choose which is more important, God or money. Which will win out in those situations? There can be only one! Winner, that is, and highlander.

Third, and finally, 7:6 is somewhat confusing. Pearls and pigs and dogs and us being torn to pieces? Weird. In the context, however, it should not surprise us. Jesus has just said that we must refrain from judging others (especially because we have faults of our own that are far greater than the minor things about which we tend to criticize our neighbors). In the same vein, Jesus then states that we should refrain from forcing ourselves upon people. If they don't accept what we think is true and right, that is their choice; any efforts to force or coerce them to our side will end only in pain and suffering for both parties. This is 100% in line with biblical wisdom on this topic (cf. Proverbs 9:7-9).

Jesus concludes this section with the famous statement that we should treat other people as we ourselves would like to be treated. This, he says, is the technically correct way to obey Yahweh's Law (at this point, please note that Jesus began his sermon by telling his audience that he wasn't repealing or nullifying Yahweh's Law, but was rather teaching them the right way to obey it; cf. 5:17-20). Now, hopefully due to my woefully inadequate and truncated explanation of the more difficult portions of this passage, we can try to track exactly what Jesus was telling his audience.

Jesus begins by talking about material wealth (verses 19-24). He tells his audience that the pursuit of material wealth will (at times) be completely opposed to the purposes of God, and in those times they should choose God over money. If they do this, money will not master them--rather, God will. This is important, because if his audience can depose money as the master of their lives then they might finally be able to live without persistent, lingering anxiety (verses 25-34). Jesus argues that anxiety is pointless for several reasons: 1) worrying never actually secures you what you need--you can't get the money you think you need by worrying about; and, 2) God is well aware of all of your needs before you even voice them to him. Therefore, he says, concern yourselves with the more important things, the value and goals of God's kingdom, and let God take care of your material needs. If his audience would put this into practice, they would also be free to stop judging other people and stop forcing themselves on others who are different from them (7:1-6). Why do we gossip about others and talk about them behind their backs? Isn't it primarily to take the spotlight off of our blatant flaws and inadequacies? Talking badly about others is always an effort to improve things for ourselves, because we have this sneaking suspicion that we are lacking somehow. Why do we argue with people over meaningless things? Each of us has experience in this, either with a spouse, friend, or family member--pretty much anyone with whom you spend a good amount of time. After about three minutes we realize that neither of us actually cares who won the NCAA Basketball Championship in 1998 (it was Kentucky, by the way... in your face, Jerry!). Rather, the reason we are arguing is because we have this need to be affirmed that we are right. Somehow, that affirmation will make us feel more adequate. So we force ourselves on those who disagree with us in a poorly disguised effort to make ourselves feel better about our own faults and weaknesses. None of this, Jesus says, is necessary, because God is like the best possible parent you could ever imagine who provides good gifts to his children (verses 7-11). Even we, though we make many terrible decisions and mistakes on occasion, know how to give good gifts to our kids. How much more so, Jesus asks rhetorically, does God--who is perfect, without fault--know how to give good gifts to us? All we need to do is ask and rely on him, and he will provide for us everything we need. We won't be lacking in any respect. And if we could somehow ultimately get that fact into our tiny little brains, we might--for the first time ever--be able to treat other people in the way we ourselves would like to be treated.

Do you see the brilliance of Jesus' argument? The climax rests completely upon the foundation he has built for it throughout. True obedience to God is not possible unless we are transformed from the inside-out in each of these vital aspects of our lives. If we don't trust Jesus, if we don't believe him, if we don't think that what he says about money, anxiety, lust, honesty, judgment, prayer, or any other aspect of life is true, then we simply will not be able to truly obey Yahweh's stipulations. But if we truly do accept Jesus, believing and trusting him on every topic, then we will be free to obey God.

Imagine your life without any anxiety about money. Imagine your life without any feeling of insecurity or inadequacy. Imagine your life with God providing every single one of your needs perfectly like the best possible parent would. Imagine your life without any backbiting or gossip or talking badly about friends, family, or neighbors. Imagine your life without needing to be right all the time, because you knew that "being right" or "being wrong" says nothing of your actual worth as a person. If you can even conjure up a glimpse of what your life would look like, rest assured that that fleeting image is an incredibly small piece of what life in the Kingdom of God looks like. It is a piece of what obedience looks like. Obedience to God looks like that! That is eternal life. Jesus offers each one of us the opportunity to enter into that life this very minute. It is not something that is given to us after we die in some ethereal existence in the clouds. It is something that is open to each one of us right now, and something that lasts forever. It is a journey, of course; we don't get everything worked out all at once and nor does Jesus suggest that we will. But it is a journey that we can begin today and will continue for eternity. It is, as far as I can tell, the Good Life.

Why bother, if...

When I think of philosophers, I generally imagine a group of white-bearded (not to be confused with "white-bread", though the latter would certainly be as true as the former) men in tunics who sit around all day talking with people about esoteric theories of metaphysical existence. So when I was forced to take Philosophy 101 in college, some of my friends who were in that class with me may still remember the day when my professor said to me: "Guy, I get the impression from your attitude that you think philosophers don't ever do anything, and that philosophy in general is a bunch of pointless talk that never actually affects real life situations." To which I responded: "Yeah that pretty much sums it up." I'll never know what my professor thought in that moment when I responded like that, but by the look on my friend's face sitting beside me I think it was interpreted as being tantamount to telling my professor he was a waste of space. Naturally, he has had the last laugh, as I now spend a great deal of time reading the great philosophers in a desperate attempt to understand life and my role in the universe. Philosophers in general tend to have the last laugh.

It is perhaps an under-appreciated fact that many of the ancient Greek philosophers were convinced that just learning things about life without actually implementing them in our behavior was completely foolish. In Book I of the Discourses of Epictetus there is a chapter entitled "Concerning Progress." In it, he asks the question, what does it really mean to make progress in life? Some, he says, suggest that learning as much as possible is progress. Many people walk around having read a lot of books, having done a lot of studying, having taken a great many classes, but Epictetus wonders: What do they have to show for it? If all they do is learn this information from great teachers and philosophers, but then never actually act upon it, never actually practically incorporate it into their lives, then what was the point? Epictetus comes down very strongly on those who learn philosophical treatises and principles as if that is an end in itself. The point of philosophy, he argues, is life-change. Progress is made not when you learn that worrying about things that are out of your control is detrimental and futile, but when you actually stop worrying about things that are outside of your control.

The letter of James in the New Testament makes a very similar argument as it pertains to theological truths. In 1:22-27 he tells his audience that it is pointless to merely be hearers of God's message--rather, they should also be doers of that message. That is, they should put in practice what they learn! What is hardly ever revealed during a sermon on this text is that James is reflecting a very deep philosophical tradition that includes Epictetus and others. His audience, remember, would live in a world in which "ancient Greek philosophy" was not ancient at all, but contemporary and well-known. Luke Timothy Johnson, in his commentary on the letter of James,* sums it up well:

James here agrees with the most widespread ancient conviction concerning the philosophical life and picks up one of the main themes of protreptic literature. Theoretical correctness counts for little if one's life does not conform to the truth one espouses. The notion that some sort of profession/confession of belief or conviction could be significant if it were not demonstrated by a consistent pattern of behavior is not, in James' world, to be taken seriously.

Essentially, the idea that simply "believing the right things" about God or Jesus or the Bible is the point of Christianity, is the goal that God had in mind for his people, would be nothing short of laughable to the authors of the Bible. Not only did they personally object to such nonsense in their writings, but their entire worldview and context of experience would have rejected such a silly notion. Knowing or believing the right things was merely a first step to the ultimate purpose, which was, of course, practically living life in accordance with those beliefs and convictions.

This is not unique to James and the Greek philosophers of his day. Jesus says the same thing in the conclusion of his so-called Sermon on the Mount. In Matthew 7:24-27, the author reports that Jesus said:

Therefore, everyone who listens to these words I have spoken and practices them will be like a sensible man who built his house upon rock; when the rain came down so that the flooded rivers came, the winds blew, and it all fell upon that house, it did not fall, for its foundation was upon the rock. But everyone who listens to these words I have spoken and does not practice them is like a foolish man who built his house upon sand; when the rain came down so that the flooded rivers came, the winds blew, and it all fell upon that house, it fell--and it was a tremendous fall!

Which brings me to my conclusion: Ultimately, the goal of the Good Life is not learning how to live the Good Life--it is living the Good Life. So as we press on together, let's put into action the things we have already learned! Otherwise, we might as well not waste our time learning them in the fist place...

*Luke Timothy Johnson, The Letter of James (AB 37A; New Haven: Yale, 2005), 213.

Anxiety at first blush

It seems to me that anxiety is one of my biggest obstacles to experiencing and living the Good Life. There is a lot to be said on this topic, as just about every major world religion or philosophy identifies it as a hazard and attempts to instruct people on the best way to deal with or avoid it. Jesus deals with the topic head-on in his Sermon on the Mount, and I plan to deal with that passage specifically sometime in the near future. But first, I have recently been reminded of a Taoist tale I stumbled upon while in high school. It has truly left an indelible mark on my memory, as I still think about it often about ten years after first reading it. Here is the story, as recorded by Benjamin Hoff (see below for full citation) in his marvelous volume, The Te of Piglet*:

An old man and his son lived in an abandoned fortress on the side of a hill. Their only possession of value was a horse. One day, the horse ran away. The neighbors came by to offer sympathy. "That's really bad!" they said. "How do you know?" asked the old man. The next day, the horse returned, bringing with it several wild horses. The old man and his son shut them all inside the gate. The neighbors hurried over. "That's really good!" they said. "How do you know?" asked the old man. The following day, the son tried riding one of the wild horses, fell off, and broke his leg. The neighbors came around as soon as they heard the news. "That's really bad!" they said. "How do you know?" asked the old man. The day after that, the army came through, forcing the local young men into service to fight a faraway battle against the northern barbarians. Many of them would never return. But the son couldn't go, because he'd broken his leg.

This story is brilliant in both its insight and simplicity, isn't it? How many of us react immediately to events with pessimism and anxiety? I am the kind of person who hears good news and immediately attempts to imagine every possible way that it could all go badly and burst into flames. Yet the simple fact of the matter is that we do not know the future. Only God does. So when events unfold for us, we do not know how they will ultimately conclude or what implications they will have for our lives. But as Christians we believe that Yahweh is altogether good, just, and fair. So we have the confidence that, as Paul states in Romans 8, "God works all things for good for those who love him." This certainly has become a bit of a cliche in the Christian subculture and can be applied in a hackneyed way, but it is nevertheless true--as we see in the life of Joseph (Genesis 37-50). This doesn't mean that God makes sure everything will be easy for us or that we will get whatever we want--many times this is not the case, as the story of Joseph shows us so clearly. But it does mean that God's good purposes will prevail in our lives, regardless of the seeming obstacles that lie in the way.

A part of the Good Life is relinquishing our anxiety. When bad things happen to us, we must remember that we do not know how things will ultimately turn out, but we do know that God is good and is in complete control of the final outcome. Those things that at first seem like devastating setbacks may in fact be the necessary steps we take to real success.



*Benjamin Hoff. The Te of Piglet (New York: Penguin Books, 1993), 171-72. Hoff states that his version of the story is adapted from the original by Liu An (Huai-nan-tse).

**Hoff's prequel to The Te of Piglet, is, in my opinion, even more phenomenal. Hoff, Benjamin. The Tao of Pooh. New York: Dutton, 1982.

Your best...even though you aren't the best...

Epictetus spent time discussing the importance of maintaining one's honor and dignity despite what it may cost. Some people, he says, would give up all honor and dignity just to avoid discomfort. A lot of people would do the same just to avoid death. These people are essentially selling themselves short, and thus we are always impressed when we hear about a Socrates or some other character who will face the consequences no matter what they are to maintain his or her dignity, honor, or character. In citing Socrates as a role model, he points out that he [Epictetus] will probably never be as good a philosopher as Socrates, but that doesn't mean he won't do everything he can to be the best philosopher he can be. This, I think, is a very important sentiment.

How many times have you thought: Well why should I even bother sticking with this [hobby/sport/career/etc.] if I am never going to be the best at it? I should just do something else that only I can do, something I can do better than anyone else. I've had that thought many times. As a teenager, I gave up many things because it became blatantly clear to me that I would never be the best or even as good as most other people. And I think I know why we do that--at least in America today.

I once read an interview with a very popular talk show host. In it, the interviewer asked the host what people say to him on the street when they see him. The host said that the most common thing he hears from strangers on the street is that one day they will be on his show. But when the host asks them why they will be on the show--what skill/talent/accomplishment will be the reason that they are invited--the host said that just about every time, they have no idea what to say. They don't know. This is because in America the most admirable, most sought after quality is not accomplishment, it's not talent or skill, it is fame. Those strangers want to be on the talk show because it means they would be famous. They don't care what they would be famous for, and they certainly don't have any particular idea of how they would actually become famous, but that's their life goal. Some friends and I have been known to refer to this phenomenon as the Paris Hilton Effect. Paris Hilton, when she first graced the world with her presence in the land of entertainment, was famous for simply being famous. She had no special achievements, qualities, or skills that set her apart from anyone else--at least, if she did, that was not what had made her famous. She was famous for being famous.

Because we want so badly to be famous, we quickly abandon projects, jobs, or life goals that don't seem to contribute to our true objective of acquiring fame. Which is a sure indicator that we aren't actually doing what we want to be doing. We choose to adopt a hobby or a career based upon what it will acquire for us, rather than because we actually enjoy the activity itself.

This situation has certainly affected the Christian subculture in America as well (the mere fact that there is such a thing as a Christian subculture in America betrays the influence of this phenomenon). How many pastors want to be the next Rob Bell, John Piper, or Tim Keller? Probably a lot of seminary students out there think they will be. I've met some of them, in fact. And, to be honest, it is technically possible that such a thing just might happen for them. But my question is: Who cares? Since when did being famous become a goal of ours, instead of the mere by-product of a combination of doing what we love and circumstances completely outside of our control?

I don't know how this started in the Church specifically, but I have a hunch. I think it's partly due to all the talk that we received from loving parents who told us that there is something we must be really good at, something that I and only I could do well. That God had prepared some special activity or thing for me in which I will excel beyond everyone else. Now, the Bible clearly argues that God created each individual, and we know that each individual has his or her own set of skills and talents and predispositions. But the suggestion that each one of us has some special gift that will allow us to surpass all of our peers is probably a bit of a stretch. In fact, I can't even think of how someone could defend such a clearly unreasonable proposition. The downside to such well-intentioned parental assurances is that they focus our attention on how we compare to other people. C.S. Lewis once wrote that pride only exists when other people are considered. We don't want to have more money. We want to have more money than other people! The same is true with our talents. We don't want to be good at something, we want to be better than everyone else at something!

I play floor hockey with friends. I didn't do this much as a kid or a teenager, although I played it occasionally. But I have only recently, in the past two years or so, discovered how much I love to play the game. For that reason, and for many other reasons completely outside of my control, I will never be considered the best, or even anywhere near the best, amateur floor hockey player in the world. It would be a stretch to even suggest that I am consistently "good." As a kid, this would have totally defeated me. I would've dropped it fast, because why bother if you're not going to be the best or one of the best? Why bother if you don't get recognition and acknowledgment and respect? Now I realize I just enjoy playing. I don't need to get anything out of it. And when I play, I give it everything I have. Not because I think that if I try hard enough I'm going to be better than anyone else on the floor--probably not, in fact, regardless of how much time or effort I put into it; I will probably not even be as good as most of the other players. But I agree with Epictetus here wholeheartedly. Just because I won't ever be the best, doesn't mean I shouldn't give my best. I play because I have fun, and I play as hard as I can because it makes no sense to play at all if you're not going to give it everything you have.

How many of us do things because we think those things will secure for us attention, respect, love, or praise from other people? How many of us work hard, not to be the best we can be at something, but to be better than someone else? God has most certainly given each one of us certain talents and gifts. And he has also given us things that fill us with joy. More often than not, these two things overlap considerably. It seems to me that a part of living the Good Life is to do those things that fill us with joy, those things that God has blessed us with an opportunity to do, and to do those things to the best of our abilities with absolutely zero regard for how the best of our abilities measures up with the best of anyone else.