When Jumping is Out of the Question

When I was three years old, my parents signed me up for gymnastics classes. Every Tuesday, my mom would drop me off at Tumble Kids, where my gymnastics instructor would show me how to do cartwheels, splits and the rope climb. I would show up in my turquoise shorts leotard and my high socks (because I was just that awesome) ready to conquer the world, or at least the 5-part obstacle course. But there was one part of the studio that I made sure to steer clear of: the foam pit.

Now, you have to understand, this foam pit was unlike any other that I have since seen at a gymnastics studio. Instead of the usual 2-3 foot high jump, this one had you suspended 8 feet in the air – high enough to be terrifying, but low enough to not actually be life-threatening… or so they claimed.

Unlike most of my peers, I was not fooled by the pool of squishy, cushioned cubes that was sure to catch my fall: that pit had “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!” written all over it. There were just too many things that could go wrong. What if the pool was too shallow? What if I hit my head on something? Padding or no padding, there was no way my instructor was going to convince me that taking that leap was a good idea. Jumping was out of the question. Maybe I was being a wimp, but I like to tell myself that I was being smart.

Over time, my fears have changed… well, sort of.

When I think about the whole scope of fears that I have experienced from infancy to the present, I notice a common thread: I fear things that have the potential to hurt me or hurt the people that I love. Physical and emotional comfort are very important to me – most people would likely say the same thing about themselves. Whether you are afraid of spiders, injuries, or unhappiness, you are ultimately concerned that you or somebody close to you will experience some sort of discomfort. Pain and fear go hand-in-hand; I have no reason to fear something that will surely bring joy and pleasure, but anything that could cause harm must be handled with the utmost caution.

Thinking about this topic, I began considering the many aspects of my life that can be shaded by fear. Decisions, relationships, career, even leisure time. These are all areas that can be greatly impacted by the presence of fear. If I am afraid of letting down my friends by not showing up to an event, I might end up inconveniencing or disappointing somebody else in my effort to attend. When I fear being wrong about something, I instantly become less teachable and more prone to pride and stubbornness. In these cases, fear places me at the mercy of other people’s opinions, which – inconveniently enough – are constantly changing. There’s just no winning when the good grace of every person in your life is your measure of success.

Some times fear can serve as a motivator, but more often than not, it is more of a hindrance than anything else. The only fear that is truly good is fear of God, which leads to a genuine desire for His will to be done in your life. When Jeremiah the prophet says “I do not know how to speak; I am too young” after God proclaims His plan for him to be a prophet to the nations, the Lord responds to Jeremiah’s fear of inadequacy with “Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you” (Jeremiah 1:8). Fear of God is rightly placed fear; all at once, He has complete power to either destroy or deliver us. What other thing or person in your life can you say this about? In the end, even when fear of God leads us to encounter trials – which it surely will at some point – this fear is the only fear worth living in because it is of the God who has the ultimate authority to dictate and guide our lives.

Going back to my dreadful foam pit debacle – several years later, I visited the studio where I had previously taken gymnastics classes. To my surprise, I was remarkably underwhelmed when I saw the foam pit. What once looked like a death trap had suddenly become something much less daunting. It was a pit of foam cubes with a diving board hanging over it – clearly harmless.

Turns out, there wasn’t much to fear after all.

That’s Just How I Feel

In my three months of blogging, I’ve been open about my weekly thoughts, my religious convictions, my love for writing, and my views on art. In short, you know a lot about my mind, but if all that you know about me is what I’ve shared in this space, you don’t really have a good reason to care about what I think, because – well, because you still don’t know much about me. With that in mind, I think it’s about time I start sharing some details about myself with you.

Instead of sharing my name, grade, and favorite brand of toothpaste — as much as I love that game — I’m just going to share how I feel. Literally.

About a month ago, I purchased a magnifying glass to use at work. As a proofreader, I spend a great deal of my time reviewing copy decks and digging through artwork for tiny details and errors. Part of my job is to find things that nobody else has found. Considering the fact that I have had glasses since I could say the word and I once mistook a person doing crunches for a duck – no but seriously, it was concerning – I’m not surprised that my eyes need a little extra help in doing a job that demands such precision. So naturally, I bought a magnifying glass and have since been referred to as Sherlock Holmes on more than one occasion in the office.

They – the often-quoted knowers of all things certain, that is– say that when one of your five senses is particularly dim, you likely have another particularly sharp sense that offsets the dim one. If you have notoriously bad hearing, you might have an exceptional sense of smell, or visa-versa. My close friends – and lets’ be honest, probably most of my acquaintances – can tell you stories that attest to just how horrible my eye-sight is; many inanimate objects have been mistaken for people, many random strangers have been mistaken for friends, and yes, even family members have gone unidentified at times.

My eyesight is certainly not my greatest asset, but what I lack in vision I make up for in hearing. As a pastor’s kid, I had a lot of early opportunities to practice listening. Sermons, weddings and Bible studies always meant prolonged periods of hearing other people talk. Once I got past my antsy years of “do I have to come?” and “dad, my butt hurts,” I started to love attending church events. The boredom faded, but the skill of listening stuck with me. Some people feel a very strong need to be heard, but I would rather listen.

My mouth probably moves more from eating, yawning, and sleeping than it does from talking. As a general rule, I don’t open my mouth until I know what I’m going to say, why I’m going to say it, and who it’s going to impact. I often have a hard time expressing myself on a moments’ notice because I worry that what I say will not actually be true to how I feel or what I think. Some times, I need to say something untrue in order to call it what it is. Until a thought has passed through my internal processor, I don’t trust it.  I realize how powerful words are and I try to use them very carefully. For many people, talking is a main form of expression; in moments when I feel the need to express myself, I usually reach for my journal before I reach for my cell phone.

And that’s just how I feel.

These few physical attributes don’t paint the whole picture, but I like to think that they create an outline. Now that we’ve got an outline, it’s time to start splashing some color on the canvas.

To Tell the Old, Old Story

Originally, this post was going to be about me and my nifty new magnifying glass, but I decided to share the Gospel instead.

Growing up in the church, our congregation would often sing a hymn called "I Love to Tell the Story." As the song conveys, Christ's story is one that brings great joy. Because of His story, I am invited into a relationship with the God who knows the depths of my heart. In this deep knowledge, He knows my areas of weakness, and He challenges me to grow in patience, peace, and boldness, each day inviting me to experience His love in different ways. These challenges play a role in the process of sanctification that He is constantly refining me through. In this process, I’m reminded that “[I am] not [my] own; [I was] bought at a price” (1 Corinthians 6:20). 

In 1 Corinthians, Paul reminds the church of Corinth that, “because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.’” (1 Corinthians 1:30). By making such a statement, Paul suggests that by becoming wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption, Christ allows us to dwell with in Him and enjoy communion with the Father. We are not capable of beginning or carrying out these processes on our own. God brings about our salvation by beginning a refining work within us and “bringing it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6).

The actual deeds that brought about salvation were Christ’s descent into humanity, His perfectly sinless life, His death on Calvary and His resurrection. The author of Hebrews tells us that Christ has made “salvation perfect through suffering” (Hebrews 2:10). Despite its excruciating severity, the suffering of Christ has become all too easy for us to forget. By evading the reality of His agony, we prevent ourselves from deeply appreciating His sacrifice. For we know that “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight” (Ephesians 1:7-8). We find peace and assurance in His affliction. 

Christ’s agony was able to overcome our sin because “he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source” (Hebrews 2:11). In His human form, we are united to Christ in the origin of our creation. We have been created by God the Father; Christ redeems our incredibly flawed relationship with the Father by setting forth Himself as the perfect sacrifice. In Him, we are forgiven, born again, dead to sin, blessed, called, saved, and he list continues. Christ's sacrifice establishes the connection between us and the Father.  We now possess freedom in Christ, who offers salvation through faith. Christ endured suffering on our behalf and He longs for us to be sanctified. His extension of salvation to sinners allows us to arrive at God’s end of perfect and complete sanctification.    

This is the story of Jesus Christ and Him crucified. His desire is for us to know Him and to proclaim His name boldly. My initial plan for this post was much different than what I've written, but this message is one that is close to my heart and I felt prompted to share it. 

Lord as Lion

James Turrell, a contemporary artist, currently has an exhibit at Los Angeles Museum of Contemporary Art (LACMA). The exhibit consists of a room that Turrell created to experiment with the nature of light; an observer steps into this white-walled room and approaches what looks like a colored screen at the far end of it. After standing in the space for a moment, the light begins reflecting differently on the walls and it appears to be changing the colors of the room. You experience these colors changing, but you don’t really understand how or why they are changing.

After experiencing this exhibit and discussing it with others, I was thinking about my experience of God’s will and His character. How my understanding and perspective on His work in my life is dependent on where I am and the light that He is shedding on my heart and circumstances. When thinking on the vastness of His character, I came across the Book of Amos in the Old Testament, and it got me thinking about some characteristics of God that I don’t often dwell on. 

At the beginning the book, Amos proclaims, “The Lord roars from Zion and utters his voice from Jerusalem” (Amos 1:2). From here, he boldly speaks of the Lord’s judgment on Israel, Judah, and all of the surrounding nations. Amos’ proclamation of the Lord roaring from Zion communicates a couple of details about God’s character— namely that He is Protector and Corrector of His chosen people. 

The image of the Lord as a lion encourages us to consider His character as Protector. When a lion roars, he does so in an effort to protect his young, who are unable to protect themselves. Roaring is a defense mechanism to deflect danger and promote safety. The Bible tells us, “The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love” (Psalm 103:8). God carries all of these characteristics while also being our fiercest Protector. His roar is a warning to us when we are in sin; in alerting us to our own sinfulness, He offers a form of protection that is ultimately flowing from His love and compassion for us.   

Amos also introduces us to God the Corrector. Most of the passages in Amos consist of the Lord proclaiming judgment upon them as they persist in their sinful behavior. He explains to them the severe consequences of their disobedience. He makes known the reality of their sinful condition. The rebukes that God gives are clear evidence of his relentless advocacy for his disobedient children. In Amos 3:2, He speaks again to Israel, saying “You only have I known of all the families on the earth; therefore I will punish you for all your iniquities.” Israel is God’s chosen nation – they are known and adopted as God’s children. Out of this close intimacy comes the need for severe discipline for the sake of correction.

Through Amos’ prophesy, God confronts Israel with their sin and gives them many opportunities to turn away from it. When they do not take these opportunities, He uses His absence as a means of reminding them of their overwhelming need for His presence. After proclaiming the turmoil and tragedy that will unravel when God leaves His people, He assures them “I will restore the fortunes of my people Israel” (9:14). He is infinitely aware of our inability to follow Him without His guiding presence and yet has chosen to move away in what would seem to be hopeless abandonment. Thankfully, God does not threaten to leave us without ever returning. He will welcome and receive them when they turn back to Him. 

So, the God who created us is also protecting us by correcting us. His compassion and grace are made known through His rebuke. Unlike the disorienting light in James Turrell’s art exhibit, God’s light serves as a source of direction and peace. His will and character are infinitely complex, and it is only by His light that we can view them with clear eyes. 

Whatever is True

About four years ago, I watched the movie Blue Valentine. It was easily one of the saddest movies I had ever seen.  The bleak message of the movie is that love won’t last and people won’t live up to your expectations. The movie juxtaposes the story of two young and hopeful lovers with the disappointment and cynicism of their older selves later in life. I walked away from it feeling deeply unsettled by the world that it was trying to convince me of.  

Great movies reveal something true to their audience. They won’t make you feel sadness for the sheer sake of it, and the same goes for happiness. While some movies explore realities that are more complex than others, I believe that every movie should uphold a sense of purpose – it should demand that questions be asked even when definite answers seem unattainable.

Blue Valentine was trying to convince me of something that I still don’t believe: namely, that love ends in disappointment. Even though I don’t believe in this message, encountering the movie’s world made me deeply unsettled and filled me with anxiety. So here’s my question: was it worth it? Did the return of insight that I gained from watching this movie trump the peace of mind that I paid to encounter it?

Earlier this week, my answer was “No way!” After conversing on this topic with an art professor from my alma mater and some thoughtful fellow graduates, my answer has changed to “I really don’t know, but probably.”

Based on these conversations, it seems like the answer boils down to three main considerations. First, we must consider the importance of the artist’s intention in the audience’s experience of the piece. Ultimately, the viewer is the arbiter of meaning while interacting with a piece; if I don’t know anything about how, why, or for whom a movie is made, I will attach my own interpretations and impressions to the piece and I will react accordingly. In the case of my Blue Valentine experience, I didn’t know going into the movie that the director had created the film as a means of working through challenges he faced as a child in a broken home. Does this new understanding of the artist’s backstory shade my understanding of the movie?  Probably somewhat

Second, we must be attentive to the cause of our uneasiness. Is uneasiness the appropriate reaction to what you are seeing? For example, when watching Schindler’s List, I am rightly unsettled by the evils committed against Jews during World War II.  When watching 12 Years a Slave, I am rightly unsettled by its visceral portrayal of the slave trade. In these cases, the initial reaction of uneasiness is ultimately purposeful when it becomes sympathy for human pain.

Finally, we must develop and abide by personal boundaries. I know that horror films cause me more anxiety than they’re worth, so I tend to stay away from them. Some people – police officers, doctors, lawyers – don’t like watching movies about their professions because they don’t want to think about work during leisure time. Others who have experienced certain trials in life – abandonment, cancer, loss of a family member – stay away from movies about such topics because they bring back unpleasant feelings from the past. As we grow in self-knowledge, we become more and more capable of identifying areas of sensitivity and creating personal boundaries.

I’ll admit that it is difficult to anticipate what category a movie will fall into before watching it. Trailers give us a snapshot, but some times they don’t quite hit the target on the actual issues in the movie. But we can get in the habit of asking ourselves these questions after watching movies.  Over time, this will help us parse out what it means to engage with art in a way that enables us to seek and discover truth.

“Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things” (Philippians 4:8).