Thursday, May 9, 2019

Imaginary Hamster

God keeps killing my imaginary hamster and it really bums me out. You might know what I am talking about.

Inside of me- deep down in the inner workings or my being- there is (sometimes) what I imagine as a hamster running furiously on his little imaginary hamster wheel. The wheel spins to life all the gears and mechanisms that make living life to its fullest possible and I am able to go forth into the world as a healthy and growing Christ follower who enjoys life and is pretty stoked about the spiritual and emotional progress he has made. And all the while my little furry friend just keeps going and going. 

I will go for months with this little imaginary hamster just running along on the wheel that keeps me moving forward with no complaints. I'm happy because there is something inside me that keeps me going even when I feel like giving up, something that makes clearing out distractions and spending meaningful time in prayer actually possible, and something that defaults all circumstances to peace and joy no matter how difficult they would usually be.

But then one day I start moving and realizes there is no spinning hamster wheel to get things going. Maybe my hamster is taking a quick break. He'll be back up and running soon. Ok, it's been awhile. Rise and shine little buddy! Time to carpe that diem. Oh.

The only response from the hamster is an empty wheel that has slowed down to a standstill. 

The hamster is dead and now I have to keep everything going without him. I still have to wake up each day and power through the to-do list. I still have to love people and act Christlike and be happy about it. I still have to set aside time to pray and read the Bible even though I may not feel anything from it. I have to work for what used to come easily. I have to keep pressing on towards the goal with no inner sense of persistent motivation to do so. 

Have you ever felt this way? Maybe you started a Bible reading plan, a diet, or a personal resolution and it was a little rough at first. But then you keep working at it and it got easier each day to achieve your goal. You were making visible progress and that motivated you to step it up a notch. You started enjoying the process and even though the goals were getting more challenging you took them in greater stride because you felt yourself getting stronger. And then one day you woke up and everything in you was fighting against the desire to achieve that goal. You couldn't point to anything that happened to derail you but you also couldn't deny that the motivation to even try and get back on track had disappeared. 

This is when I get mad at God. Things were going great and I was getting closer to Him and the person He created me to be every day. What is the point in making it needlessly difficult again? What is the point in taking away all that I had built up and leaving me on my own? It is in these moments that I realize how much I had been relying on the little guy in there for what I thought was my own doing. I thought I was really getting better at being joyful and loving but it turns out the hamster was doing all the work. I thought I was getting better at being patient and seeing the world from God's perspective but it was only the spinning wheel inside of me that made it possible. Without that inner drive I had no progress at all. 

When this happens I do what any sane person would do. I try to give that hamster mouth to mouth CPR. I pull out tiny defibrillators and pray I can bring him back. I need him to keep working so I can keep working. But after I spit out all the electrically singed hamster fur I realize that this might be a hopeless cause. I am on my own now. 

What God has to frequently remind me of is that Jesus never promised me a hamster that would do all the work for me. He never promised an inner sense of calling and drive that would make following Him and His commands easy. He never promised a sense of persistent momentum that would keep me moving closer and closer to Him. In fact, He promised the opposite. He equated obedience to Him with total self-denying surrender. Mourning, sorrow, persecution, and loneliness were not just possibilities but were presented as guarantees for anyone who claimed to be His. Obedience to Christ always meant obedience to the cross of Christ. Being a disciple without discipline was our idea, not God's.

When I begrudgingly remember this I realize that having that hamster for as long as I did was nothing more than a blessing from God's grace and kindness, not a right that I deserved. Seasons of ease are gifts not promises.

Maybe God thought I could use a break from the struggle of life. Maybe He knew that it would be enough to encourage me through a harder season later on. Maybe He just wanted to bless me for a season. I don't have to know the motivation or purpose behind being blessed with a season of ease to have enjoyed it while it lasted. Who am I to get mad at Him for taking away what was never promised in the first place? 

Following Jesus over the course of a lifetime is an uphill/downhill/darkest valley/mountain top kind of trip and will continue to be so until we arrive at our final destination with Him. Some days we will find walking in His footsteps the easiest and most natural thing in the world. Other days not so much. On those days we will have to rely on the structure of routine discipline and the accountability of community to keep us headed in the right direction until God provides for us another imaginary hamster to get things going for a time. Those days are not as fun but they are where real growth happens. 

Lately I have been in an interesting season, theologically speaking, that has caused me to explore some of the daily disciplines that kept Christians going in the right direction for hundreds of years that are very different than the Christian traditions I've grown up with. Things like praying the Daily Office, fasting, spending time in silence, and reading liturgy and hymns. The truth is I need something to keep going inside of me when my fleeting feelings feel otherwise. I may write more about this journey of exploration into historical Christian practices at a later time because so far I have learned a lot. 

I've always preached that following God is about relationship, not religion or ritual. I still believe that but now I am coming to realize how important ritual can be in maintaining or maturing a relationship. There is far more to marriage than a weekly scheduled date night but having that date night scheduled immovable on the calendar has certainly enriched my marriage. And needing to set a reminder on my phone to call a family member might seem insincere but if it helps me do what I would have regretted later in building a relationship than the ritual becomes essential. Scheduling time to pray, reflect, and be silent before God only sounds like mindless routine until you go a few days without a hamster of inner motivation and realize that unless you stick to a plan there is no way you'll stick to a walk with Jesus. 

We need rituals in place in our lives because some days we have the benefit of imaginary hamsters and sometimes we don't. Of course the rituals (or daily routines, disciplines, or habits) can't be everything but they go a long way in keeping our feet moving forward. I'm done waiting for a new imaginary hamster. I'll keep spinning with or without him until one day I won't have to. 




Monday, May 6, 2019

Horticultural Intelligence

There are some things I fail miserably at but never want a second chance for a do-over.

Processing the grief of losing someone I love is one of them. 

When I lost my brother almost nine years ago I failed pretty badly at the whole grieving thing. I know people will tell you that there are no right or wrong ways to grieve but there are certainly healthy and unhealthy ways which in my mind means basically the same thing. The way I grieved was pretty unhealthy. I know that now but couldn't have known it then and I certainly never wanted another opportunity to learn from my mistakes. I was content using what I had learned to help other people grieve better but then we lost Dad and now I have to personally put to the test all the theories I had of what I should have done differently.  

Last time I buried everything I could as quickly as possible and got back to work on living my life. But what I discovered much later is that feelings are rarely ever just buried. They are usually planted.