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. 

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. 

Get Your Junk Together

I am by no means a car guy, but I have become quite the car trouble guy.

I have had too many surprise mechanic bills in my life so checking stuff under the hood "just to make sure" is a regular part of my routine. I usually do not really know what I am looking for but at least I am trying.

A few weeks ago I noticed some gunk in my radiator and even I knew that probably wasn't good. Casey asked when the last time we had an engine flush was and I had no idea. We concluded that "gunk + not really knowing anything" was enough grounds to go get it checked out.

After a much longer wait than I anticipated, the mechanic came out into the lobby to talk to me which I have learned is never a good sign.

"You see you've got car stuff in your car stuff, which is a common problem for your kind of car stuff considering the car stuff, car stuff, and car stuff. So we are going to have to car stuff and car stuff it so that we can get to the car stuff to fully car stuff it right. All in all it will cost you a lot."

In hindsight, I am pretty sure that the mechanic used actual specific words and terms but for the sake of not embarrassing myself  I just wrote what I heard. I responded,

"Wow, that's a lot. I can't afford that right now, can you just do the engine flush now and I'll worry about fixing whatever that is when I get a second job and sell one of my kidneys?"

Then the mechanic leaned back and started speaking in smaller words so that I would actually understand what he was saying.

"Well, the problem is your junk is holding everything together and I am afraid that if I flush it then you will only have more problems."

And then I realized my mechanic had turned into a therapist. My junk was holding everything together?

The biggest surprise about all of this was that the car was running totally fine. There were no weird noises or smells or anything else that would be a cause of concern. I could have kept driving for several hundred miles before anything seemed wrong. This isn't the first time that a mechanic has told me something like this but it is the first time I really thought about what it means to be held together by junk.

People and vehicles naturally accumulate wear and tear just by doing their job day in and day out and until something goes terribly wrong we usually have no idea about what condition we are really in. Eventually the junk just becomes part of who we are and actually for a time keeps everything moving. In my own life, I have spent the last several years collecting anxiety, pride, fear and restlessness (to name a few) and I have come to realize that I actually depend on these things to "get the job done" and make it through each day.

Vices look like virtues when they are shown to have a sliver of functional utility. Anxiety and restlessness worked well to give the appearance of a strong work ethic and personal drive. Pride was pretty good at motivating confidence and strong willed determination. Fear was awesome at making me look conscientious and strategic. And the truth is that I could have gone on a lot further just carrying my junk around before anybody had any clue.

After the mechanic explained his diagnosis several more times and pulled out flash cards to get me to understand I asked him if this was a job that had to be done now or if it could wait awhile. I've learned that is a good question to ask when you don't have much money but also don't want your car to burst into flames at the next red light.

"Honestly, if you were planning on only keeping this car for a few more months then I'd say forget it and let whoever you sell it to have to worry about it. But if you want to get another 100,000 miles out of it then I suggest you take care of it before anything else goes wrong."

And there lies the difference between being a fully functional human being that happens to be carrying around a bunch of junk and being a fully functional human being that has taken the time to deal with some stuff: Longevity.

I think I could go pretty far at the pace of life I am at right now but not forever. Eventually my junk will catch up to me. I want a few more years out of my car. I want a few more years out of my life. I don't have time to drive around with junk anymore, even if that junk actually helps me sometimes.

There are two things I learned about dealing with junk from finally getting around to getting this thing fixed. It is both expensive and inconvenient.

Praying "create in me a clean heart Oh God" is signing your name to the bill of whatever it will cost you, which will always be more than what you expect. And taking the time to really deal with stuff will be hugely inconvenient. My fully functional vehicle had to temporarily sacrifice its function while it was being worked on. Dealing with the junk that keeps you going means you may not be able to do things that you used to as well or efficiently as you used to do them. People might actually notice that you don't have every detail of your life totally together (gasp!).

But the cost and inconvenience are worth the longevity you gain.

When I picked up my car after almost a week in the shop the mechanic handed me the keys and said "here's to another 100,000 miles."

I want that mechanic to be able to say that about my life because I have the long term in mind and have the strength and obedience to get the tough job done even though I know it will cost me.

Well not him per se, he is just my mechanic and that would be a little weird.

My Hips Don't Lie

There are very few things that feel as manly as having and old war wound.

Get a bunch of guys together for any period of time and you will inevitably find us comparing scars, injuries, and stories from our past that people tell us we should be ashamed of for how stupid they were but we are actually still proud of. 

I love playing this game as much as the next guy because this is one I usually win. I was a pretty clumsy child who really liked the idea of being a daredevil. Well, I liked the idea of being known as a daredevil more than actually being a daredevil. 

But as cool as it sounded to tell people I was limping around because of "an old track and field injury" it lost it's appeal when it actually started hurting. A lot. All the time.

It was my sophomore year of high school and I was in the middle of my first season running track. I had only recently fallen in love with distance running a few months before so I knew almost nothing about injury prevention. So when I complained to my coach about a constant throbbing pain starting in my hip and shooting its way down to my knee I had no idea what to expect. 

"I'm pretty sure your issue is your IT band, or iliotibial band if you want to know the fancy name for it."

"That's terrible. How did I get an iliotibial band? Will icing it get rid of it?"

"You don't get rid of an ilitibial band, Kyle. It's that really long tendon that connects your hip bone to your knee and can sometimes get inflamed if you don't stretch it right or you put too much stress on it."

"I knew that, just making sure you are staying current the latest innovations in first aid" I said as I twitched the hair out of my face to look cool.

"Whatever. Go sit down and take an Advil."

Minor Scales

When I was thirteen I received my first guitar and it was magical.

The moment was magical, not the guitar itself but that would have been cool too.

I do not remember a time that I was not wooed by face melting guitar soloes reminiscent of the era of big hair and spandex. I always wanted to be Marty Mcfly knocking the socks off his parent's sock hop.

So I cheated.