In and From and To and Through

Always Doing, Never Being

I’ve been living three different lives. 

For the past four months, I’ve been working 50 plus hours a week writing freelance news articles, tutoring foster children and parking exotic cars at a fancy hotel. Even though my tax forms have the same name on them at all three jobs, people view me as a different person at each. 

As a news writer, I’m seen as the young professional with lofty ambitions and a commanding voice. 

As a tutor, I’m the friendly intellectual who cares for children in a charitable way. 

As a valet runner, I’m a low-skilled peon used only for menial acts of service, worth $2 or $3 in tips. 

Regrettably, I’ve allowed the perspectives of others to shape the way I perceive myself, so much so that it sometimes feels like my identity is split three ways. After months of this, I’m horribly exhausted. 

Although I’m in the minority of people crazy enough to work three jobs at once, I think my exhaustion comes from a common problem: always doing, never being. 

As people, we constantly want to define who we are based on what we do. We question the value of our identities, so we scurry about accomplishing goals and checking off to-do lists hoping to justify our existence. But this is counter-productive. 

Say what you will about The Beatles musical Across the Universe, the film offers some great insight into this problem. In one scene, the Princeton drop-out Max has a heated dispute with his Uncle Teddy at the Thanksgiving dinner table.

“What do you actually intend to do with your life,” the flustered uncle asks Max.

“Why is it always about what will you do?” asks Max. “Do. do. do. Why isn’t the issue who I am?” 

“Because Maxwell, what you do defines who you are,” the uncle says.

“No Uncle Teddy, who you are defines what you do,” Max retorts. 

Max sums it up perfectly. Our identities will constantly shift, twist and suffer if what we do determines who we are. Yet if we know who we are, we have the freedom to do anything and remain true to ourselves. I know numerous self-help books offer ways to “find your core” and “exercise self-preservation while overcoming obstacles,” yet I believe this simply adds to the list of to-dos and never reaches the source of true identity. 

I love the way the contemplative Catholic author Richard Rohr unpacks Psalm 46. He writes,

“Be still and know that I am God. Be still and know that I AM. Be still and know. Be still. Be.”

Only the one who created us has the right to say who we are. In Isaiah 43, our Father in Heaven says, “I have called you by name, you are mine.” In rooting ourselves in God and his love for us, we break the vicious cycle of always doing and never actually becoming who we were made to be.

The Lie of Exteriors

The summer before eighth grade, I convinced my mom to buy me a trendy new wardrobe. 

Being a middle schooler circa 2001, I picked out a jumble of over-sized, striped Tommy Hilfiger polos, thinking, I now have the coolest clothes. This year is going to be different.   

Naturally, school began a month later and nothing changed. I was still an average student with an average amount of friends and an average middle-school lifestyle, despite my suave new polos with tiny red and blue emblems. 

Looking back, I see how absurd and immature my expectation was that a few expensive shirts could change my 13-year-old life. Sadly though, I think most of us still make the foolish assumption that external changes will solve our internal problems. 

For our lack of fulfillment, we travel to exotic places. For our stress and frustration, we buy smartphones, iPads and cars with built-in computers. For our loneliness, we edit our profile pictures and write introspective blogs in an attempt to be known. 

Ultimately, these exterior changes simply mask the truth in our hearts. While they bring temporary highs that promise fulfillment, they ultimately burry our souls deeper in dissatisfaction and keep us from living out of our true identities. 

Working part-time at a fancy hotel in West Palm Beach, I see this often. The other day a woman arrayed in designer labels came and stood next to me as she waited for her car. We talked briefly. 

“How are you today ma’am?” I asked.

“Well, I’ve been on vacation for so long— two years now. I’ve got to get out of here,” she said. 

“Wow, that is a long time. Where have you been?” 

“Egypt, Israel, Hawaii, Italy… I’m exhausted. I don’t know what I’m doing,” she lamented. 

This woman has the world and all of its splendor at her fingertips, and yet her life still lacks meaning. I’m not implying that possessions, travel and occasional luxuries are inherently evil, but when we use these things as Band-Aids to cover our inner-turmoil, we simply let the real problem fester, leading to further decay. 

Although there is no easy solution, I believe it starts by recognizing internal struggles require internal solutions.  

I love the way David prayed, “Search me and know my heart, O God.” He recognized that all the treasures in the kingdom of Israel would fail to meet his soul’s desires. He settled for nothing less than intimacy with the God of the universe.

Christ said that true life is found in knowing and being known. Only his Spirit can whisper life into the true interior of who we are. We have to stop believing the lie that exterior changes will cure our souls and start opening ourselves up to his transformative love. 

An Infamous Conversation.

After praying alone in the Palestinian wilderness with no food or shelter for 40 days, Jesus probably looked pitiful.

His ragged clothes would have drooped off of his malnourished body, while his stomach probably twisted and churned with extreme hunger pains. His filthy appearance would have made modern homeless people look like Banana Republic models. 

At the height of this pain, the devil spoke to him. 

“If you are the Son of God, tell this stone to become bread,” he said, with an eloquent accent.  

Although most of us picture Satan as a long-horned goblin in a red Halloween costume, I bet he looked more like a heavenly prince, arrayed in celestial robes and jewels. His royal appearance alone would have been enough to tempt the best of us. 

When Christ resisted, he increased the temptation, moving from personal gratification to worldly power, the very thing most Jews expected the Messiah to possess. 

Showing him all the kingdoms of the world, from Rome to Mongolia, the devil said, “I will give you all their authority and splendor; it has been given to me, and I can give it to anyone I want.”

Not fooled by physical possession, Jesus again resisted. 

Growing in vexation, the devil then tempted him with the most fascinating possession— spiritual power. 

He took him to the pinnacle of the temple in Jerusalem, allowing him to feel physical superiority over the law, the priests and their rituals. 

“If you are the Son of God, throw yourself down from here, for it is written, ‘He will command his angels concerning you, to guard you,’”

Yet again, Jesus resisted. 

I’m continually baffled by this story. While Jesus had the rights to the object of every temptation, he set them aside to learn sacrificial humility. I can only imagine what it must have been like laying in the desert sand, covered in dust and sores, to look up at Satan in all of his splendor and know that with the snap of one finger you could possess greater glory.

Oddly, the devil simply tried to get Christ to reclaim that which is rightly his as the Son of God— infinite provision, inexpressible power and spiritual authority. He wanted to do anything he could to prevent Christ from denying himself, learning to sacrifice and going to the cross. 

Yet he failed. Christ continually set aside his rights and “made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross.” 

Ultimately, Christ’s humility redeemed us. 

The Strangest Prayer I Have Ever Received.

A few months ago, I approached a well-known worship leader for prayer. 

I wanted to grow in my ability to lead others into God’s presence, and since this guy walks and talks in a Spirit-filled, radical Christ-like swagger, I figured he would be the guy for the job. 

When I explained my request, he joyfully agreed with a slight smirk on his face. 

He closed his eyes, laid a hand on my shoulder and took a deep breath. 

At this point, I figured he would begin a long monologue with Jesus, asking for greater anointing, quoting some scriptures and if things got really wild, possibly praying in a tongue or two. 

But he didn’t. 

He continued to breathe in until his lungs puffed up like birthday balloons. He then pinched his lips together and blew as hard as he could directly on my face.   

What… is… happening… was all I could think at the moment. 

After the first rush of foul breath passed over me, he inhaled and repeated the bizarre and never-ever-to-be-expected prayer routine.

He finished the third breath, thanked God for allowing us to meet and said amen. Although we talked for a few minutes about worship and travel, he shook my hand and walked away without ever explaining the oddity of the prayer. 

I felt weirded out in the moment, yet as I think back on the experience, I realize how powerful a breath can be. 

When God made the world, He breathed life into dust and made Adam. When I was a senior in high school and felt hopeless in sin, God breathed life into my heart and made me new in the same way. Of course, He did this through scripture and the amazing people in my life, yet those in and of themselves were not what changed me. Rather, it was His Spirit. 

That to say, sometimes, we don’t need loquacious prayer, intricate theology or extravagant worship. 

Sometimes, we simply need God to breathe on us.

I don’t know that I will spew coffee breath onto the next person who comes to me with a prayer request, but I do know that I will strive to encourage more people to rest in the presence of God rather than always trying to quote the perfect verse or pray the perfect prayer. 

Rethinking Manhood

When I was 3, I watched my dad do 250 pushups every morning. 

When I was 7, I practiced punching my dad’s hands as he taught me the universal man code: “If someone hits you, you hit him back.” 

When I was 9, I found pictures of other women hidden in my dad’s dresser, then I saw him leave my mom for one of them a few years later.

Like most other guys my age, I’ve grown up with a warped view of masculinity. I used to think a man could be measured by how much money he made, weight he lifted, women he slept with and beer he consumed. While my father certainly contributed to this, I recognize this absurd machismo has been passed down from father to son for generations. 

In fact, society still believes much of this lie today.   

Open up any issue of Men’s Health magazine and you’ll find a bombardment of articles supporting men’s selfish desires for lofty wealth, promiscuous sex and the Michael Phelps six pack.

Titles such as “How To Seduce Any Woman,” “5 Fast (!) Money Secrets” and “Meat Lover’s Indulgence Guide” reveal more than quick tips for manly living; they echo what today’s men want to become. 

I’ll be the first to admit I’ve bought into much of this (how else would I know so much about Men’s Health?), but as I grow to understand Christ as the ultimate picture of masculinity, I realize how backwards this false machismo really is.  

While society says men should selfishly consume whatever they want whenever they want it, Christ did the opposite. 

He humbled himself and looked to the needs of others, ultimately bearing the sin of the world on the cross. He easily could have rejected this burden, and yet he chose it, saying, “No one takes [my life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord” (John 10:18). 

Christ shows us that masculinity can be defined as is a willingness to take on responsibility, especially when it’s not your own. 

In short: masculinity means sacrifice.

Therefore, real men act out of love, not selfishness. They honor women, not defile them. They steward and give money, not hoard it.

As I was beginning to type this post, my friend Brice called me and told me how he and his wife were preparing to temporarily foster an abandoned child. Working in full-time ministry, he has little money and even less free time, and yet he is sacrificially caring for a child that has nothing to offer him in return. 

This type of manhood may never look sexy on a magazine cover, but I know it leads to a deeper life and lasting joy— things that can never be found in fast cars and super-model mistresses. 

Everything everywhere

Sometimes I just want to go everywhere and experience everything in life.