What Really Matters

It's hard to see the forest for the trees, the light for the darkness, or the hope for the pessimism.

Things get muddled. Things get messy. It's just life. And sometimes, life sucks.

Yeah, I know "pastors" shouldn't say that, but "pastors" are people. And we say "sucks" just like Paul said "garbage" in Philippians 3:8 (hint, the word he used was closer to the other "s" word than we might be comfortable with than it was trash), because life is messy, and we get hurt, too.

And just like that- I've lost my sight of what I needed to talk about.

See how easy it is? We let our minds run rampant and we see all the junk we need to look past, and only see that. We see our problems, our enemies, our junk- and we can't see what we need to to live.

We (read: I) spend a good portion of my life looking at what I don't have or what I wish I had. I'm not just talking about that Black Camaro I'd love, I'm talking jobs I wish I had, money I wish I had, time I wish I had, friends who I wish were closer geographically, friends I wish were closer generally. It makes one miserable and lends often to the "Life sucks" bumper sticker theology i struggle with of late.

And it's stupid because it's not what really matters.

So, what does matter? What makes this life joyous, fulfilling- life giving? I'm no Curly from City Slickers, so I can't give you the "Just One Thing" speech as I squint into the sun under my dirty cowboy hat with a cigarette perched perilously from my lips. Mostly because I think there is more than just ONE thing- but also because cigarette smoke makes me choke.

I do agree that it's what you have to figure out for yourself. For me, I could give the church answer that for me it's Jesus- but that would be slightly dishonest. I love Jesus, and He does matter the most to me, but in my devotion to Him I've come to see the other things that matter- as a part of my relationship to Him.

My wife matters because I love spending time with her. She is my balance when I tilt too far, my voice of hope when my mind gets too dreary. She loves me, and is truly a helpmate for me. She hurts when I hurt, laughs when I laugh and celebrates when I see victory. She reminds me of how Christ loves and forgives when we don't deserve. She is gracious and compassionate, and it rubs off on me.

My kids matter in ways that are hard to express. Leslie and Kenna bring such joy to my life, and I long for good, quality time with them (and their mother). Not just time spent with them, but time spent loving on them, cheering them on in gymnastics or the little art project they decided to do. Time spent listening to their giggles, and their surprisingly sophisticated humor. Time spent watching Phineas and Ferb. They give me but a glimpse of what God must feel when He looks at us- Hope and joy, mixed when anticipation of what will come.

The rest of my family matters to me- especially my mother and mother-in-law. They are two ladies who show so much strength and resilience, they inspire me. Their insight and wisdom often guides me, even when they don't know it.

Sunsets matter, because they are beauty before the dark. Reminders of glory we've not yet known fully.

Good music matters. Doesn't matter if it is Crowder or Kansas, a hymn or a rock anthem. If it speaks to you, it makes a difference.

Good stories matter because they often hide a bit of deeper Truth. Movies or books, TV Shows or Comic Books take us another place, yet often point us to something God is saying. At least, they do for me.

Moments of peace matter more than I can relate. They are too fleeting, and too few, but those seconds of respite are glimpses of hope.

When life sucks, these are the things I must remind myself to think of. And when I think of them, I must also remember that they are all gifts of God. God is the Father of pleasure, and I fine pleasure in the things that matter. As James 1:17 says:

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

So ultimately all things things matter. Not in some divided loyalty kind of way, but in a "these things matter because God placed them in my life." When I give my heart to Him, I am able to enjoy these things all the more.

And the forests of fears, the darkness of doubt, and the plumes of pessimism disappear in light of Him who matters most.

Seeing the Dark, or How to Keep Stress from Eating You

There have been times when I will wake up in the middle of the night, and the dark is so deep that I get disoriented. I forget where the lamp by my bedside is, where the door is, which way is which. Having lost all sense of direction, a slight sense of panic will briefly arise and I'll kind of flail about trying to find my bearings (and possibly hitting my wife) in an effort to regain control of my faculties. These incidents last maybe ten or fifteen seconds, but they seem like an eternity. Finally, my eyes will adjust, my sensibilities return, my wife asks, "What'd you do that for?" and normalcy and sleep soon return.

In the midst of the panic, it's not just my senses that are scrambled, its my thinking. All the things that give me comfort or security are still right where they once were, but I am unable to recognize them, or even see them as they are. The reason?

I can only see the dark.

Crazy, right? I mean, the dark isn't an object you can see, it's more of a concept. It's not really even a color. But in those moments of...whatever that is, it becomes almost tangible, almost alive, and it can be terrifying.

Now, before you write me off as a big baby who is afraid of the dark, remember this is for like fifteen seconds. I actually love the dark, and like walking in it- on my terms, which these cases are most definitely not.

Also, I'm seeing these episodes as a metaphor for some current things I'm dealing with, and probably so are a lot of others.

When a kid is afraid of the dark, what they are really afraid of is what is IN the dark that will come out and get them. The dark is a cover for truly nefarious things. As an adult we don't believe in monsters, but we do believe there are bad things in the dark- things we can't see at the moment, but we know are there.

Like stress.

Bills we know are coming. That conversation that we know we must have. Obligations that need to be met. Responsibilities to be undertaken. Consequences that are going to fall. Then, sometimes these inevitables are eclipsed by the true terrors- possibilities.

Let's face it, good possibilities rarely keep us up at night, but the possibility, the fear that tomorrow you get fired, or someone you love gets hurt, or a tornado could hit- these spring your eyes wide open.

And they are irrational.

The problem I've had lately is that these stressors- real and imagined- have become the dark. THEY are what I see, and no amount of flailing about trying to find my comforts and safeties has worked. Because I see the problem, and not the solution.

In the last few weeks, I think I've wanted to see the problem more than the solution. It makes no sense, but by wallowing in the problems I see ( and being incapacitated by them) feels easier than trying to see the solutions. Maybe it's anxiety or a mental thing, or maybe it's a spiritual one. Or both.

Two things have happened in the last 24 hours that have begun to clear the dark for me, and hopefully it can for you if you've been 'seeing the dark.'

1) Last night, our church had Restoration, a our communion service made up of lots of music, low lights, and stories of thankfulness shared by people. One person, Ashley, spoke of the need for us to just talk about how much we love Jesus, and how good He is to us more often. Usually, I write that kind of talk off as "Sunshine and Rainbows" talk, but not the way Ashley put it. There was a truth to it- a truth because she meant it, felt it, experienced it and knew it. She was not reciting some mantra the church taught her, she was speaking out of the overflow of what God was doing in her heart. By the way, that's called worship. So, thanks Ashley for sharing that we need to see God instead of the problems, if you'll forgive my paraphrasing and co-opting there.

2) Spurred on by that seed planted last night, I turned the I-pod on to "How He Loves," Crowder's radio version. I turned to that song mostly because God usually speaks louder when I listen to that song over others. Not sure why, other than it is one of the more heartfelt worship songs I've ever heard. In the midst of an always moving song, there is the lyric:

When all of a sudden
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory
And I realise just how beautiful You are
And how great Your affections are for me

I recognized my problem was that I was all too aware of my 'afflictions.' They were the dark I could see, all that I could see. As if to accentuate the point, around the time this lyric went by, the sun broke through an overcast morning sky to shine on my face, startling me. See, God talks louder when you listen to the David Crowder Band.

That's the key to getting this. You either see your problems (your dark) or you see His affections for you. You cannot SEE them both. I'm not saying feeling loved by God makes your problems go away- it doesn't. But it so eclipses them that they are gone from pressing hard on your mind. You are not trapped by them, not in a panic over them.

For me, it is a choice I have to make constantly- do I see the dark, or do I see the glory and affection of God? Generally, if I want to feel in control, I try to see the dark. Which is ironic, because when I see the dark, I am in no way anywhere near the vicinity of in control.

But if I want peace? I let the dark be eclipsed by God's glory. I look at the love He has shown me, and trust in that.