Think Like a Commuter

26.

This is approximately the number of DAYS each year that I spend commuting to work. Two and a half hours a day, five days a week, for fifty weeks. And the hard numbers don’t account for traffic jams, car accidents or other delays that inevitably come up when you really need to be somewhere on time.  

So roughly one month of my year is spent in bumper-to-bumper traffic. If I think too hard about that, I might cry, so I’m not going to.  Instead I’m going to think about something I heard on the radio last night… while driving home from work.

It was an interview on KPCC about the decline of Christianity among young adults in the U.S. NPR’s religion and belief correspondent, Tom Gjelten, shared some very telling stats and observations about the state of Christianity today.

He suggested many reasons for why our generation seems to be more resistant to Christianity than those before us. He mentioned that our culture of individuality and uniqueness is impacting people’s desire to associate with churches; in an effort to create a personal brand, some young adults end up rejecting religion completely because they feel that it confines or labels them in a way that they cannot control. They are less inclined to join groups in general because they ultimately desire to be set apart from the pack. With this growing religious disparity in this upcoming generation, he projected that this decline of Christianity will continue, as the number of parents raising children with Christian values will slowly decrease.            

After listening to this brief radio interview, I was left to consider the thought process behind this so-called imminent decline. I believe that individuality is important and that young professionals need to consider crafting a strong personal brand for themselves, as well as a strong sense of self. But I also believe that this sense of self is not something that should or can be shaped solely by introspection, emotion, personal experience or a resume.

Every person has been created by God, and therefore is uniquely and intimately known by Him. With this in mind, the notion that associating with Christianity will damage one’s individuality seems misguided. Jeremiah 10:23 reads, “I know, O LORD, that the way of man is not in himself, that it is not in man who walks to direct his steps.” Our creator knows us better than we know ourselves, so our self-understanding will always be incomplete without Him at the center of it.

There is much more to be said on this topic; these are just a few of my personal thoughts on it. Gjelten mentioned a handful of other hypothesis for the reason behind this decline. You can find his complete KPCC interview here. It got me thinking — maybe it will do the same for you.

Hitting the Clear Channel

When I hear the word “rest,” I immediately picture myself lying on the couch in my stretchy pants with a good book in one hand and a cup of warm coffee in the other. Usually, there’s chocolate involved. There’s always a blanket involved. If I had a dog, he would be in the picture too. I associate these many comforts with rest.

This past weekend was one of rest, but it wasn’t a weekend of stretchy pants and chocolate– at least, not entirely. It was a weekend of conversation, laughter, and adventure, but it was restful.

A group of close college friends and I had planned this weekend getaway, hoping for a chance to recharge and to catch up on each other’s lives. We shared news from our families, struggles from recent months, amusing YouTube videos, and goals for the coming year. We were all facing different circumstances, but we were able to lend encouragement where it was needed.

There is a certain kind of rest to be found in the support of those closest to you. Often times, being engaged and present in our friendships can feel like a form of rest because it allows for vulnerability, and vulnerability is refreshing. When I’m surrounded by people who truly know me, I am at ease. I am experiencing rest.

After this weekend, I felt challenged to consider the true meaning of rest. The idea of Sabbath in the Bible is helpful in shaping our understanding of it. Jesus rebuked the Jews who accused Him of sinning when He performed healings on the Sabbath. There is error in the notion of Sabbath rest as a passive disengaging from the surrounding world. Rest is active and intentional– it allows us to briefly step away from our daily grind, but in doing so, it sheds light on our priorities and can lead us to reevaluate them. At first, the idea of rest as being active may seem contradictory, but think about it: are there any instances in the Bible when rest is defined as total removal from absolutely everything? Even the act of meditation is one of attentiveness.

Since we’re on the topic of rest, think about your television set. Watching television is something that many people associate with rest, right? This might feel a little off topic, but stay with me for a minute.

The television at my house has way too many channels; finding the one I’m actually looking for is close to impossible. More often than not, I find myself clicking aimlessly through the in-between channels, holding firmly to the logic that the one I’m looking for is bound to pop up sooner or later. Wading through the noisy static of each passing channel, I’m relieved when I finally land on one that my eyes can rest on and my mind can engage with. 

I think this is a representation of how we are meant to experience rest. While going about our daily tasks and running from place to place, we are surrounded by noise. As we shuffle through the static of the many channels of life, it’s easy to shift onto autopilot, impatiently anticipating whatever upcoming weekend plans are on the calendar. Some times, our restful weekend plans really do consist of sitting on the couch with a good book and a cup of coffee; more often than not though, weekends are spent doing things that we enjoy, spending time with people we don’t see during the week and engaging in activities that refresh us—at least, that’s the dream.

When we finally hit that clear channel on the television, we are not just left with a blank, noiseless screen that demands nothing of us. Rather, we are left with a lucid and intentionally crafted moving image that we are meant to actively engage with. Ideally, we would walk away from whatever show we were watching with a new thought to consider— possibly a new perspective on an issue. Rest is hitting that clear channel and participating in the picture it presents – it’s not just watching it move.

Last weekend, we rested. We laughed, we prayed, we talked, we swam. We cooked, we ate, we explored, we wondered. We floated along the lazy river, wanting to play “bumper cars” with tired parents who just weren’t into it. We quipped about details of the weekend that reminded us that we still haven’t totally mastered this adulthood thing. We explored what looked like a post-apocalyptic ghost town in the middle of the desert. We bought way too much ice cream and left it for whoever stays in our room next. We did all of these things and called them rest, and the word felt fitting because it was. 

Countertop

We all have a unique story about how we identified our talents and realized our passions. This story may still be a work in progress for you — in many ways, it is for me too. But this week, I want to share a post about the simple but meaningful moment in which I first thought, “wow, maybe I’m a writer.” 

The following is a short non-fiction narration that I wrote about that moment. 

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Mrs. Gruber didn’t have favorites. She praised us when we did assignments well and critiqued us when we did them poorly. Even in sixth grade, this was the kind of teacher that I needed—a brutally honest one.

Once a week, Mrs. Gruber would select a random topic and ask us to write a sentence about it. She wouldn’t grade them, but simply used them as a tool to develop our imaginations. One time, she asked us to write a sentence about a monkey on a trampoline. Another time, the subject was a clown in an amusement park. We were told to include as much detail as possible without making the sentence a run-on.   

This exercise would rarely end with a single sentence for me. In no time at all, I would have an entire fictional scene surrounding this one image that the teacher had presented. I would write for as long as the exercise lasted, some times even writing more at home if my imagination prompted me.

One day, Mrs Gruber simply asked us to write a sentence about ourselves. This was a bit more difficult for me than our previous prompts, mainly because it was not fiction. It had to be about something real. After a while, she noticed me writing with what must have been particular enthusiasm. I suppose this made her curious.

“Lara, come here please. Bring your paper.”

I sat, bug-eyed and trembling. It wasn’t until the second “Lara...” that I finally arose and began walking toward her. She smiled at me as I approached.

“Looked like you were working pretty hard over there. Can I take a look at what you’ve written?” she asked.

I timidly handed my paper over to her and watched as she read over it. I can’t remember the exact sentence I had written, but I remember that it was about my height and I had alluded to needing a stool to reach the countertop. Before I could ask her not to, she was reading the sentence out loud to the class.

Then she turned to me and simply said, “You’re a very talented writer. Keep at it.” She handed my paper back to me and I went back to my seat, slightly embarrassed but mostly beaming.

As silly as this may seem, I identify this vivid moment of praise in my early childhood as the moment in which I acknowledged my interest in writing. Looking back on it now from my 20-something-college-grad perspective, I can identify the educational process that was at work that day.

The sentence itself was likely not very impressive by academic standards. I was no child prodigy and there is no doubt that my sixth grade teacher had read thousands upon thousands of sentences that were far more memorable than “I stepped on a stool to reach the countertop.” Even so, Mrs. Gruber’s reaction was so genuine that I, as a young student, was led to consider writing to be one of my true talents.

John Dewey, a 20th century American educational philosopher, wrote a book called How We Think, in which he considers the relationship between a teacher’s attitude and that of her student. He writes, “Everything the teacher does, as well as the manner in which he does it, incites the child to respond in some way or other, and each response tends to set the child’s attitude in some way or another.”

Mrs. Gruber’s authentic enthusiasm in this seemingly insignificant moment incited a response in me. It was only after this moment of affirmation that I began to acknowledge and appreciate writing as a skill of mine. I didn’t have the slightest idea what I was going to do with it, but I knew that I had it, and at that point, that was enough. 

04.24.1915

Grandpa Harry was an orphan during the Armenian Genocide.

By the age of four, he had witnessed more death and tragedy than any person ever should.

The youngest of six boys and four girls, he and his sister were the only two of his immediate family members who had not perished in the genocide. They spent countless nights sleeping on strangers’ doorsteps with empty stomachs and nothing more than a thin layer of clothing to keep them from freezing.  

The brutal details of his childhood are haunting. Before he was even able to count, he had witnessed first-hand the very definition of human depravity. My guess is that he didn’t even understand most of what was going on around him at the time. He was faced with thoughts and emotions that were particularly unnatural for some one his age to be bearing. He had every reason under the sun to be bitter and to go about the rest of his life with a heart full of hatred.

But his story did not end with genocide.

After the genocide, he and his sister were placed in a Syrian orphanage in Aleppo. When he completed elementary school, he knew he wanted to continue his education; he enrolled in a junior high school program offered at Aleppo College, and he worked to pay his way through junior high, high school and college. While attending Aleppo College, he also came to know the Lord and slowly grew into his calling as a pastor.

His pastoral calling brought him to the United States, where he spent seven years pastoring in Chicago, Illinois and twenty-seven years pastoring in Fresno, California. He had an abiding joy that was evident to all who knew him— a joy that could not be explained by anything other than the deep grace of Christ.

This is the story of a four-year-old orphan in Syria who chose Christ, and in doing so, provided a powerful witness. We as the Armenian people of today are faced with the same choice.

We have been deeply offended and hurt by political leaders’ refusal to acknowledge the Armenian Genocide. We share stories about relatives who were directly impacted by its atrocities, and we’re dumbfounded as to how they could be classified under any other term. I believe that it is important for us to continue pushing for acknowledgement of the genocide, but not without remembering that forgiveness is the cornerstone of the faith that our people died for in the first place.

My grandmother recently wrote a book, which included the transcript Grandpa Harry’s 90th birthday party speech. I won’t include all of it here, but there was one part in particular that stood out to me.

As he reflected, he shared, “The Lord has been good, very good to the four-year-old boy left orphaned in the streets of Homs, Syria, with many other boys and girls. They were homeless, hungry with bare feet, begging for food. Many of them perished from starvation and disease. By the grace of God, I survived.”

Today is April 24th, 2015. As Armenians, we refer to this day as Armenian Martyrs’ Day. It is the 100-year anniversary of the genocide that my grandfather and so many others suffered through. In the past century, the Armenian people have proven that this genocide was not successful. It did not destroy our nation and it certainly did not destroy the faith we stand for or the God we serve. I cannot attribute the resilience and strength of the Armenian people to anything other than the power of God who guides us.

The love of Christ radically transformed a man who had every reason to lead a life of bitterness and sorrow. This love offered healing and gave my grandfather hope and and purpose - that purpose being to glorify Him in all he did. This is our God. 

On Wandering

“The simple fact that a door is open does not confirm that walking through it is the right thing. “

When I heard these words, they gave me pause. The pastor was preaching on the importance of being good stewards of our opportunities. He emphasized that our lives are rich with opportunities to share and honor Christ in our actions, words, and decisions; when we take these opportunities, we open ourselves up to His transforming love.

With a wide range of beliefs about how to discover one’s purpose in life and understand God’s will, it becomes particularly important for us to know where our confirmation and direction comes from. Often times, we allow convenience to become our key standard of discernment. “If this door is open, “ we think, “then that must mean that God wants me to walk through it.” The Lord plans and orchestrates every detail of our lives; even so, Scripture does not support this notion that the readily available option is always the best one. Often times, it is quite the opposite.

When I think about the ways in which God guides His followers, I’m reminded of the Israelites in the Old Testament. A friend of mine once told me that geographically speaking, the Israelites could have realistically traveled from Egypt to the Promised Land in a matter of months. This was much more shocking to me than it should have been. There are very few locations on earth that it actually takes 40 years to travel to; by “very few,” I mean none.  But that’s beside the point.

Here’s my point. If the Israelites’ journey through the wilderness was one that could have been traveled in less than a year, it’s safe to say that in their 40 years of travel, they at times felt like they were taking the roundabout path because… well… they were.  They would go one direction for days only to find that they needed to turn back and take another path. They were wandering.

This reality is quite telling of how God works in our lives today. Ultimately, everything God does in our lives is meant to grow us in holiness and draw us closer to Him. With this in mind, we must remember that holiness is a high calling and it doesn’t come without surrender and faith. Through Christ, we are counted holy before God. The fruit of this holiness however is not easily cultivated. Some times, it means going through challenges or even following paths that we think are right just to find that we need to turn back because they don’t align with the holiness to which God calls us.

Proverbs 3:5-6 tells us to “Trust in the LORD with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.” When I read this passage, my eyes immediately focus on the “he will make straight your paths,” and subtly avoid the “do not lean on your own understanding.” The Lord will make our paths straight, but He in doing so, He will require us to “lean not on [our] own understanding” and to “be not wise in [our] own eyes.” God’s direction in our lives redefines what it means to be led safely home. It teaches us that the easy path is not always the right path and that our strength and purpose can only be found by trusting Him.

All things considered, we need to approach each opportunity with discernment and wisdom. Yes, the Lord certainly leads us through our circumstances. There have been countless times in my life when I have seen His hand guiding me in a clear direction through surrounding circumstances. In those situations though, circumstance was not the only factor on my mind.  Scripture, prayer and mentorship were at the core of these decisions, and my circumstances simply supported the affirmations that I was receiving in these other areas.

With each opportunity that we have to honor Christ, we also have the opportunity to dishonor Him. Some times, honoring Him means taking the opportunity that’s right in front of you; other times it means walking away.

Make Christ known in each of your decisions. Be a discerning steward of each opportunity.