Whining Isn't Winning

Sarah and I love to play games--card games, board games, mind games, etc.  We've been learning and teaching them to each other since we started dating.  But I can still remember the first game Sarah set out to introduce to me:  Phase 10.  Not only was it a comical yet somewhat frustrating evening, it was also an introduction into a silly dynamic that is now an ongoing part of our relationship.

This is how that day went early in our relationship when Sarah taught me Phase 10:

Sarah had made a special trip to Bellevue that day to hang out, and while I was finishing a project, she had cleared a spot in the living, laid out a blanket, and set up a picnic lunch for us.  I finally joined her to let the learning begin.  What Sarah hadn't yet learned about me and one of my family traits is that I tend to be a tough learner.  Not necessarily a slow learner, but to be sure, a tough learner.  It's something I inherited from my dad.  When it comes to learning new things, the initial "hump" may be a bit more challenging to get over for us than most.  It just doesn't come to us immediately, and an immediate feeling of defeat and frustration quickly sets in.  

And so, as the teaching began and my lack of success at the game bloomed like a hibiscus before us, I grew sour and frustrated--just like clockwork.  Sarah's feelings were hurt and she too began to grow frustrated--it's just a game... she would patiently repeat from time to time--why are you making such a big deal?  The more Sarah excelled at the game and seemed to run further and further ahead of me, the more soggy and whiny I became--like father, like son.  Finally Sarah gave me the ultimatum I needed:  if you can't learn to play this game without making such a big deal about it, then we aren't going to play.  I agreed I'd settle down and we made it through our first game of Phase 10.  Sarah won by several phases, and I felt like a failure.  Nevertheless, we began another round.

As round two began, Sarah again started to pull ahead right from the start.  I did my best not to start whining, but it seemed as though I could hardly control it.  Sarah looked at me and asked are you really still doing this?  It's a game.  Somebody has to lose.  I agreed but still complained about about the fact I was losing even though I was just learning.  Yet we plodded forward, with Sarah beginning to feel more and more guilty with each successful turn--I'm sorry J, this is just how it's turning out.  

Finally I hit my lucky streak.  One successful turn led into another great turn.  Soon I had caught up.  Sarah was happy for me and said See?  Now you're getting the hang of it!  By the close of that game, I had pulled ahead and won the game.  Sarah asked if I felt better and if all the previous commotion was worth it.  I agreed it wasn't and apologized.  We ended up playing two more games of Phase 10 that day.  I ended up winning both of them with significant margins.  By the end I was feeling quite good at the game and was enjoying myself immensely.  Sarah on the other hand, was beginning to feel frustrated:  you mean to tell me I felt sorry for you, and now I can't win a single game?  I felt badly.  I lost one game and made a big stink, while she lost the next three and was being a good sport about it.  We didn't play anymore Phase 10 that day, or for a while.  

We eventually laughed about our first Phase 10 experience, but it has seemed to haunt us as a reminder that my whining doesn't translate to winning.  The kicker is now Sarah rarely wins against me in Phase 10.  In fact, we've been through this similar process in many new games--she pulls ahead quickly, I whine immediately, and right when Sarah feels bad about winning so greatly I go on to become very good at the game, rarely allowing her the victory.  This happened to us again just the other night during Skip-bo.  I was sulking because I was behind, and yet I eventually pulled ahead to win three of our four games.  

Ultimately, however, no matter how many times I win the game, when I whine my way to final victory, I'm not really winning at all.  It does no good.  My poor wife Sarah is the true winner, no mater how many times she loses a game, because of her patience and willingness to play again and again for the shear sake of spending time with me.  She continues to have much to teach me in her patience

.  I have much to learn.

So as we begin our days today, regardless of our losses, let us each remember that our whining never leads to true winning!

More to come!

Jason <><  

No Solicitation Please!

Today's thought is short and simple--no need to sell the Gospel!

Yesterday as I was delivering my message in church, I noticed how hard I was working to present God's word in an ultra-attractive manner--highlight the drama, connect every aspect to our personal lives, add humor, reinforce with other cites of scripture, provide numerous examples, and sound convincing.

Really?  Is this necessary?

It's funny how this happens without even noticing.  Fear creeps in, and I begin to worry no one will find interest, that others won't make the connections, that it doesn't apply to our lives, etc.  How foolish we can often be.

The truth is, God's word has clearly stood the test of time and relevance.  It's the most widely printed, translated, and distributed collection in all of history.  God's story has the capacity to change the very course of our lives as well as the very course of our entire existence.  It has saved more lives than all rescue teams combined, and has changed more lives than have cumulatively filled all football, soccer, and other major sporting event arenas across the globe.  It is powerful, it is full of life, and can break through any barrier.  How could we ever doubt it?

Yet, Satan enjoys the easy attack, and at least for a moment convinces us that God's word alone isn't enough, that its success in the world and in our churches is ultimately in our control and under our responsibility, and that personal failure is worse that failing to trust God.  

Ultimately, we end up trying to doctor up God's word because we're struggling to believe in it ourselves.  This is why so many of us are terrified to speak in a church.  This is why many of us swear we have not been called to be evangelists in the world.  

But the powerful truth, whether it's in regard to preaching or sharing with others, is that God's word doesn't need elaborate proofs, heart-throbbing stories, or knock-dead presentations.  It doesn't need smooth talkers, debate pros, or holy sales professionals.

All it really needs is an honest heart, a true story, a simple trust in God's power and work, and a willingness to let go of control and fear.  God's word will sell itself, and it will be the best heard yet.

More to come!

Jason  <><

Too Much Pain?

One of the most powerful acts of love and sovereignty Jesus demonstrates in His three short years was healing.  Massive crowds resulted from His grace, touch, and miraculous power--so much so that they often threatened to crush Jesus.  To say healing in Jesus' ministry was important is an understatement.

That healing power continues to be a focal point for our faith relationships yet today.  We continue to praise and seek God in part because of this power and His promise to heal and relieve our pain, worry, stress, anxiety, and discomfort.  We cling to Peter's words in his letter and to Paul's in many of his letters encouraging us to embrace our pain and know that it will be healed for God's glory.  These words and encouragement truly resonate with us in our current time.

Yet, today I dare to ask the question, how much pain is too much ?  I love listening to K-Love and other Christians stations as I drive--especially because my CD player is toast!  However, the other day on a longer drive I noticed a consistent theme in the lineup of songs:  pain--pain of living, pain of losing, pain of stress and disappointment, etc.  I do understand how difficult our lives can be and how much stress we often carry on our shoulders.  And it will ALWAYS be a crucial part of our worship and praise as we exalt God's healing strength.

However, I'm concerned we may be making too much of our pain--that our tolerance continues to erode to the point that anything outside of what we consider intended, anticipated, likely, favorable, predicable, desirable, or pleasant becomes a significant source of "pain" in our lives.  We make jokes about "1st-world" problems and the moans of entitled whiners because of this syndrome.  In fact, it's at this point that we begin to make pain an idol.  We sing about it, we focus on it, we make everything about Sunday morning and our practices of seeking God and praying to Him mostly about relieving our pain and the pain of others.  We've become so obsessed with pain we often neglect any other aspects of our faith, of who God is, or of what God wants for our lives.  It's just like an itch or rash--the more we scratch and pay homage, the greater of a "thing" it becomes.

So today I encourage each of us to take a reality check regarding our own worship of pain.  How focused are we on it?  How often do the stories and reports of our pain get shared with others?  How often do we allow ourselves to feel pained on a daily basis by the inconveniences of life?

It may sound rough, but maybe God's inviting us each today to "get over it," to quit letting that be the only thing that we focus on, and to toughen up a bit.  Christ is our strength so that we may withstand more, not so that we have no strength on our own.  Here's to His gift of freedom in our lives today!





More to come!

Jason <><

Your Bar's Too Low!

I'm a runner.  I enjoy running.  I run as often as possible (which is 2 or 3 times a week with my Pastor's schedule).  When I'm driving and I see people on trails, my blood flow changes.  BUT, I'm not a distance runner.  I don't claim that name, own that body, have that time, and don't have any of the right gear.

But, I love challenges and slightly foolish ideas, so I signed up for the Good Life Halfsy, which is now less than a month away.  I've been running as much as I can, hoping not to get hurt and hoping to enjoy the run over just finishing it.  In the process of training, I've been struck by the results.  My training goal for ANY run or climb is to get to 7-minute miles before the event.  Usually I barely get there.  For me, that's awfully fast!  With this in mind, I had no real intention of getting to 7-minute miles for a half-marathon.  Whew!

Yet here's the kicker:  for my longer training runs, I've decided not to map the route before running it so that I would focus on running for a long time, rather than trying to be fast.  Each time I've come back from my long run, I've stared at the screen in disbelief as I log my route and time:  7:41 min/mile at 10.6 miles... 7:29 min/mile at 13.13 miles...  NO WAY!!...  That's impossible.

I'm not a distance runner.  But as it turns out, I've been given the ability to run long distances.  After about 30 minutes of running, I find myself just running, just putting one foot in front of the other, just breathing like crazy, just talking to Jesus, just singing songs about His name.  After a while, I forget I'm running.  I don't feel like I'm running fast.  I don't imagine I look like I'm running well.  I just keep going.  It feels good.  But there's no way it's actually good.

The clock doesn't lie.  There are a ton of people who are significantly faster than me.  But what's happening in my own running life is happening to a guy who hasn't ever claimed to be who he's turning out to be.

I'm thinking about this on a Monday morning because this is the story of our leadership and Spirit-following lives.  Week after week I see leader servants from the Steering Team at church tell me they aren't speakers, that they don't speak well, and that they're completely uncomfortable come out onto the stage and offer thoughts and examples that simply blow us away.  Week after week I see people insist they aren't teachers, they aren't good parents, they aren't good leaders or administrators or fundraisers, only to find themselves in the place they insist they shouldn't be, doing better than they ever could've imagined in their role!  The problem is when we set the bar way too low.

But THIS is the work of the Spirit--in the places and roles we least feel comfortable or affirmed in.  This is when the Spirit says THIS is what I do in the areas you DO NOT.  In fact, I'm pretty sure the Spirit's most difficult task is to work in the areas where we already feel competent.

So you want to grow in the ways of the Holy Spirit in your life and faith?  Let your bar be raised.  Quit deciding what you can do based on your own ideas.  Let the Holy Spirit decide!


More to come!

Jason <><