What I Didn't Learn about Myself from Surfing: Part 2

In my last post I wrote about learning to surf in San Diego and some of the things about myself that prevented me from surfing well.  In the end, I realized I already knew these things about myself but I also came to appreciate some of my strengths in my surfing experience:

I’m not afraid of learning new things or experiencing new things (even sometimes scary things).  I had traveled across the country by myself, to a city I had never been to, where I knew no one.  I was in the Pacific Ocean with a surfboard and a surf instructor I had just met.  As Randy and I were about knee deep in the water, he told me about the jellyfish.  Apparently sometimes there are jellyfish in the water by the sandbar we were on, and they sting.  So Randy showed me how to do the “Jellyfish shuffle” by more slowly moving my feet forward rather than taking big steps in order to allow the critters to move out of the way before stepping on them.  Randy told me a few other people learning how to surf had gotten stung. 

I don’t give up easily.  I don’t even know how many dozens of times I fell off that surfboard.  Sometime I barely even managed to get going forward in a wave.  But time after time I forced my way back out against the waves to try again.  When I failed to get up using one method of getting up on the board I tried another way.   I was determined to surf and my actions reflected it.

I’m not afraid to fail.  While I had visions in my mind of me surfing like the professional surfers, I had a pretty good idea that this wouldn’t be the reality.  I knew learning to surf would be hard and I knew I wouldn’t be an instant success, but I did it anyway.  Also, I wasn’t afraid to fail big.  I’m really glad there weren’t many people on the beach that day because I’m sure some of my falls were some of the most ungraceful things I’ve done in my life.

I’m not afraid to dream and do what it takes to make my dream a reality.  As far as dreams go, learning to surf isn’t a huge or important dream, but it is something that I’ve wanted to do for a while so I made the plans and figured out a way to make it happen.

I know when it’s time to rest and renew.  This is something I’m still learning to be good at, but when I was surfing I demonstrated the skill well.   When I had tried my best, I had fallen more times that I could count, and I was just plain tired and hungry, I got some seriously delicious nachos and ate them on the beach while watching the clouds roll by and listening to the waves.

What I Didn’t Learn About Myself from Surfing: Part 1

I was in San Diego last weekend in part to cross something off my bucket list: learning how to surf.  I sort of learned how to surf.   I had a few decent surf rides, but I won’t be entering any surf competitions any time soon.

My surfing instructor, Randy, told me I was a challenge to teach.  He didn’t mean it in a bad way (although I immediately took it as an insult).   He meant that he was grateful for the challenge of trying to figure out the puzzle of the way my brain does/doesn’t communicate with my body and help me surf.   

Randy kept telling me that I needed to stop thinking about certain things and thinking in certain ways because this thinking was preventing me from standing up on the board and surfing.  However, I can assure you that there wasn’t much consciously going on in my brain other than wanting to be a cool surfer.  After I had returned the surfboard I continued to think about what Randy had told me about my thinking.  Maybe if I wasn’t actively thinking about the things Randy told me not to think about, perhaps it was on an unconscious level that I was thinking things that prevented me from succeeding.  This makes sense because the things that Randy told me were preventing me from surfing were the same things that I know I struggle with in life.

I’m afraid of failure and I think about failure too much.  Randy kept telling that I was thinking about falling.  He me that as long as I was looking to the side of the board rather than straight ahead toward the shore I was going to fall.  If I was looking to where I would fall, I would fall.

I am slow and too deliberate.  Randy wanted me to stop thinking about it as a bunch of different steps and just quickly push up, get my feet in the right position on the board, and stand up.  Instead I took things slowly, one step at a time.

I need to feel in control all the time.  I was taking it one step at a time because pausing at each step allowed me to make sure I was completely balanced before I went on to the next step.

I hold on to what I know rather than letting go of what is holding me back.  Even when I did manage to get my feet close to the right places on the surfboard and get into a somewhat upright position, often I failed to stand up all the way because I was left hanging onto the side of the board for stability.  I knew the board, I knew I was safe when I was holding on to the board, so I held on in an awkward half crouched position.  Randy told me to stop thinking about being unbalanced and just let go.

I didn’t learn anything new about myself.  I knew all this already and I was super frustrated that it prevented me from surfing well.  While my character flaws were evident in my struggle to surf, some of my character strengths came out too.  Wait for What I Didn’t Learn About Myself from Surfing: Part 2.

If Trees Worried

Fall is my favorite season.  Besides the fact that I love pumpkin everything (and for the record, I loved pumpkin everything before it was trendy to love pumpkin everything), I love what happens with the trees in fall.  I love the brilliant reds, orange, and yellow of the leaves as they change color.  I love the way the fallen leaves fill my senses as I walk or bike along the tree lined paths- the crunching and rustling sounds as I move over the leaves, the musty, earthy smell of the leaves as they start to decay, the way the leaves fall from the trees and the way the wind makes them dance on the ground.

But for all the beauty in fall, there is also death.  Plants die, the grass and plants start to lose their green, and the trees shed their leaves leaving just the lifeless looking branches.

And here’s the thing: Donald Miller once wrote, “All the trees are losing their leaves, and not one of them is worried.”

I can’t say for sure that trees actually feel emotion, but if we can imagine for a few minutes that trees do indeed feel emotions we can learn something radical.

Leaves are the life source for trees.  Without leaves trees would have no way of gathering in the power of the sun in order to turn that sunlight into food to help the tree survive and grow.  So for a tree to lose its leaves means the loss of its ability to generate food and therefore is essentially a death sentence.  

I can imagine the first fall for a baby tree is pretty traumatic.

However, the trees don’t worry.  They put up no fight as their leaves gradually drop one by one to the ground.  The trees do not selfishly try to hold on to the leaves that are destined to break from the trees. 

Perhaps the trees know their worrying will do nothing to change the weather or the fact that their leaves are going to fall off.  Maybe they aren’t worried because they trust that spring will come again just like it has every other year.  The leaves fall and the leaves return.  It’s a cycle.  The leaves have to fall in order for them to grow in the spring and the leaves have to grow in the spring in order for them to fall. Even though it seems completely illogical and terrifying in the fall, the trees know the cycle and they trust. 

Here’s the real lesson though: trees do more than simply accept what could be viewed as a tragedy, they transform it into a spectacular display of color.

It is this stunning autumn spectacle that teaches me year after year that acceptance and trust are significant but it is through choosing to use our energy to bring about transformation that worry is truly defeated. 

Thank You

Congress has gotten a lot of criticism lately, and I'd like to get on that bandwagon even though I may be a little late.  What made them think that they could just close things down when they couldn’t get along, when they couldn’t figure out a solution, when they couldn’t act like adults and compromise?  Did they not realize that their actions had awful consequences for so many people in our country and around the world?  

Most of us don't have the option to do what Congress did.  Most of us can't just say, "Well, this is too hard.  We can't figure out an easy answer or compromise, so we'll just shut things down for a while and wait for the other guys to give in or figure out an answer."  Yes, I know this is a huge simplification of the whole situation, but the real point here isn't to dis congress, but rather it is to thank all those people who don't close things down when the going gets tough. 

The truth is we all have to deal with the tough stuff.  We have to do things that are extremely difficult, we have to engage with the pain and brokenness of this world, we have to live in an imperfect world where some days one thing after the other goes wrong. 

And it’s hard.  It’s really hard.

But you do it.  Day after day.  Some days you may question why we must keep going, why it must be so difficult, but if you keep going please know that you are doing something spectacular.

There are the teachers who patiently care for and teach their students even when they don't have the resources they need, their students and parents aren’t always the most cooperative, and the system doesn’t lean toward doing what is best for the students. 

There are the pastors who are on call 24/7, counsel people through grief and crises, preach the Truth, and care for their congregation in so many ways through much sacrifice.

There are the non-profit organization leaders who make the most of few resources to do incredible work to solve some of the world's biggest problems and who help people who many would consider to be beyond help.

There are the lawyers who fight for their clients and for justice in a system that isn't always on the side of justice.

There are the doctors who relentlessly search for the best treatment for their patients even after so treatments many have proven ineffective.

There are the parents who continue to love their children even when exhaustion sets in and who give second chances and show “tough love” to help their children become the people they are meant to be.

There are early mornings, long days, late nights, disappointment, tears, stress, pain, heartache, moments of panic, days of grief, fear, loss, injustice, anxiety, financial struggles, insecurity, disasters, horrific accidents, devastation, illness, and rejection.

With all this, it takes great courage to keep going.  It requires an enormous amount of endurance and patience to not give up.  Most of all it demands hope.  And for as long as you don’t give up somewhere inside of you are courage, endurance, patience, and hope.

Thank you to all of you who keep going.  Thank you to everyone who has the courage, the endurance, the patience, and ultimately the hope it takes to say, “Yes, this is really awful and I want to give up, but I will not let all that is difficult stop me from trying to bring about what is beautiful.”

You give me hope.  Thank you.

The Mess

I’m a pretty calm person.  People notice this about me.  I can control my emotions, I’m pretty level headed in difficult situations, I take things as they come, I can roll with the punches.

But lately on the inside I’ve been freaking out a little and sometimes more than a little because I’m struggling with Jesus’ teaching to “love your neighbor as yourself” (Matthew 22:39) and to care for people in need because Jesus told us “whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). 

I’ve stepped way out of my comfort zone and I’ve really tried to live these words out.  I have poured my heart, my soul, and my energy into it.

I’ve loved and tried to care for people who are difficult to love and care for.  I’ve gone deep- I’ve tried to get to the root of the problems rather than just dealing with the surface struggles.  As soon as I think I have made some progress in helping someone or making the world a better place, things just get so much more complicated and the severity of the issue seems to amplify.

And all I see is more and more complex issues.  More pain.  More brokenness.

I took steps of faith, and now all I find myself with is a mess that I have no idea what to do with.  It’s the mess of a broken world.  It’s the mess of that comes with a broken person trying to love broken people.

So what do I do with disappointment?  With heartbreak?  With exhaustion?  With the temptation to give up?  What are we to do when things are just so overwhelming and success or progress seem to be completely out of the picture? 

What does it mean that I am trying to live how Jesus said we should live and it feels like Jesus is farther away from me as I see more and more brokenness?  Did God really intend for me to be in situations where my lack of experience and knowledge leave me feeling completely inadequate and I have no idea how the reign of God will ever be present?

All these questions and concerns are going around and around in my mind and it leaves me feeling more and more anxious, overwhelmed, and unsure about what it means to live as a Christian.

I remember a time when I was younger when my mom sent me to clean my bedroom.  After some time my mom came to check on my progress, and what she saw completely horrified her.  My bedroom may have been a little messy before, but now the president might have declared it a disaster area.  Clothes taken out of my dresser and closet, papers and supplies taken out of my desk, toys taken out of their places, and books removed the book shelf- piles of stuff everywhere and I was in the middle of the mess.  My mom naturally questioned what on earth I was doing and firmly reminded me that I was supposed to be cleaning my room.  

What I then tried to explain to my mom was that in order to really clean my room it needed to get messier before it could get clean.  I was rearranging and reorganizing everything in order to make my room as clean and tidy as possible.  My mom was skeptical but the explanation pacified her.  It took me a long time to clean my room, but in the end it truly was clean.

I’m hoping the mess of life is like the mess of my bedroom.  We can see that the world is a mess on the surface.  We can bring in a dust rag and a vacuum and things might look better.  Or we can open the closet, pull out the desk and dresser drawers, empty out the storage baskets and really deal with the mess.  This may require being knee-deep or even deeper in the mess for a while, but eventually the world will be restored.  

In the meantime I sit here and try to make sense of the piles of mess around me, I try to figure out how the mess was created in the first place and what I can possibly do to fix the profound brokenness in the world.

I wish there was a simple checklist to loving our neighbor, eliminating injustice, and restoring wholeness.  But it’s not a neat and straightforward 5-step process.  It’s messy and I hate the mess.