Romance–Even though she knows you could live without her, you make her feel as though you wouldn’t want to. -Author unknown

“The greatest privilege, the greatest duty of any man is to be happily married.”
–Theodore Roosevelt

Many years ago, I heard a wise man describe our culture as one of “commitment cripples.” His point was that our cultural artifacts are less and less promoting commitment as a value to be pursued. The other values of convenience, personal comfort, and individual fulfillment have gradually replaced commitment in the core values of American life. Certainly this is true in the arena of marriage.

Over the past nineteen years of my own marriage, I have come to cherish marriage to my wife as a blessed friendship to be nurtured and guarded not as a dirge but as a celebration. What do I mean? We’ve all heard the joking references to marriage as a “ball and chain” experience, a life full of demands, honey-do’s, jealousies, and reduced freedoms. Certainly, with the demands of living, the pressures of job and children, and the mysterious challenges of growing older, marriage is tough enough without the negative view of it as drudgery. In this way, the marriage bond is reduced to a funeral dirge of robotically-obeyed duties offered to an abstract ideal—to stay living in the same house for the sake of the children, or to avoid the hurt of divorce. Sadly, with this view, some couples settle for a negative, constraint commitment as simply a lesser of available evils.

But marriage is meant to be a celebration. The loving, life-long commitment of a man and woman is designed to be a mosaic of love for a lifetime. Indeed, what starts as a roman candle of infatuation and first-love intensity deepens, matures, and flows over time into a confident assurance of full acceptance. A knowing glance, a supportive hand, a wink of the eye, a life-long conversation. How does one stoke the flames of such a celebration? It means in the everyday, carving out time for one another. It means nurturing shared experiences, not just giving in to the current of life’s pressures, which will surely carry us down the river of “irreconcilable differences.” It means guarding my mind, words, and actions to maintain the loyal love for my beloved that gets us through life’s hardships. It means not entertaining images of other people in my mind, not fostering intimate relationships with those of the opposite sex outside of my marriage. It means not joking about divorce or threatening separation in the course of a disagreement. Yes, it takes work, initiative, energy. But, it is not meant to be work of cold, robotic duty, but passionate and joyful commitment.

Indeed, marriage is a process of celebration. Seeing it as such does not erase its challenges, but it assuredly gives us a fighting chance in the battlefield of life. Blessings on your day…

When you stop seeing beauty, you start growing old.
–Bono, Summer Rain.

I have thought and written at length about the blessings we receive as we grow older, if we are willing to embrace them– the increased wisdom gained through a life of humble self-correction, the growing appreciation for the things that matter most, the pool of life lessons that guide us in future decisions. Indeed, contrary to the message of youth-oriented pop culture, growing older is not a curse, but a blessing. Recently, however, I have become aware of one great temptation as I grow older as well– the loss of wonder.

When I was in seminary, I had the privilege of taking several graduate courses on public speaking. One of my professors warned our class, however, that with such training and knowledge, we might be tempted to be overly critical of public speakers when we hear them. After trained, the idealistic student would tend to see all public speakers through a hyper-critical lens of evaluation, missing the message while micro-managing the medium. I found this to be true. With knowledge and training come great temptations to pride and arrogance– the loss of humble gratitude and appreciation.

The ancient Greek philosopher Plato said that all philosophy begins with Wonder, a passionate, yes, emotional impulse to probe, to hunt for explanations. Once discovered, however, knowledge can tend to steal the very passion that fueled its discovery. Francis Bacon observed that wonder dies with knowledge. Once we understand a matter, we are tempted to let the knowledge become assumed, taken for granted information, like forgotten wallpaper in the interior of our lives. Of course, the lesson here is not to remain ignorant or to shun learning, but to stoke the flames of enjoyment and reflective appreciation as a personal, spiritual discipline.

Children live a life of wonder so grand, so sweeping. With wide-eyed enthusiasm, a child will deny herself sleep and food to experience the next big thrill. I’ve read that children can read the same book, listen to the same song, or watch the same movie countless times because they are learning something new with each fresh exposure. Minds like a sponge. I want this kind of wonder. But, alas, the more I learn, the more I am tempted to a yawning complacency. British journalist G.K. Chesterton wrote that weariness in life comes not from too much pain but from weariness of pleasure. That is, it is in the loss of appreciation for simple pleasures that the pains of life then begin to take center stage, to erode our joy, and a complaining spirit sets it.

We all know of the stereotype of the ‘grumpy old man.’ I have found that it is not one’s chronological age that makes him so. One can be a ‘grumpy old man’ at the age of twenty-five, or one can be a vibrant, winsome soul at the age of eighty-eight. It is in the loss of enjoyment, the inability to recognize and rejoice in beauty, that makes us truly old. Here’s to growing in the wonder in the simple things today.

If you can’t control your peanut butter, how can you expect to control your own life?  — Bill Watterson, Calvin and Hobbes.

Any fool can criticize, condemn, and complain but it takes character and self control to be understanding and forgiving. –Dale Carnegie, American lecturer, author 1888-1955

Within me is a potent instinct for control. Control of my time, control of my possessions, control of others for my own benefit. Within the heart of humanity this engine powers much change in our world, both for good and for evil. In his masterpiece, The Discoverers, author Daniel Boorstin traces the world-changing discoveries that shaped human history. One of the chief discoveries is that of the clock. According to Boorstin, it was precisely the human thirst for control that drove the invention of clocks and wristwatches. Ancient time was kept with the seasons and apparent movement of the Sun across the sky. But it was for our desire to control time, to harness it to our own planning advantage, that humanity developed ways to divide time into hours, minutes, and seconds. With greater, more incremental time awareness came the reality of production, achievement, and control. But how much do we control time and how much does time control us? An Asian proverb says that Westerners have gods on their wrists, while Africans maintain, “All Westerners have watches; no Westerners have time.”

It is our illusion of control that is deadly where our relationships are concerned. I have battled this tension– where my control begins and where it ends– extensively in especially where parenting is concerned. The task of parenting involves control every day–where to draw the line, when to discipline, how much freedom to allow. “Daddy, can I watch a movie?” “Mommy, can I have a play date?” “Daddy, Andy hit me!” All such phrases from our children test our control boundaries. As a parental “work in progress,” I have gone back and forth in my own response to this control struggle. In times of control obsession, I have mistakenly assigned an issue like how much food can be reasonably left on my child’s plate to be of life and death in its importance. But then I swing my pendulum to swing to the opposite extreme– passively withdrawing and holding to an “anything goes” pattern that fosters irresponsibility in my child.

The quotes above show two sides of the control coin. There is a sense in which I have no control of my circumstances in life. Yet, I have great control in how I respond to those circumstances. In the on-going battle for control, a lesson I have learned is that progress involves an active surrender. It is presumptuous and wrong of me, on the one hand, to hunt rabidly for control of my life, my time, my property, my children. Do I really own land? Is my money really mine ultimately? Are my children’s choices ultimately my responsibility? Resoundingly no! Each day, events occur all around me that are completely beyond my control and my right to manipulate. This realization is bedrock in the life of faith.

Yet, on the other hand, I am not completely powerless either. Pastor and author Chuck Swindoll has observed that “life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I react to it.” In that space between how it is and how I feel things ought to be is a powerful opportunity for choice. Will I embrace a grateful, resolute heart for what is good and right? Or, will I put on the garb of “victim” and resort to complaint or lashing out in anger to try and manipulate my world? True freedom springs from a choice made in this pivotal space.

“Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space lies our freedom and power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” – Stephen Covey, Seven Habits of Highly Effective People.

I would rather be ashes than dust!
I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze
Than it should be stifled by dryrot
I would rather be a superb meteor,
Every atom of me in magnificent glow,
Than a sleepy and permanent planet.
The proper function of man is to live, not to exist.
I shall not waste my days in trying to prolong them.
I shall use my time.
–Jack London

In times past, people who made profound impact upon our country lived aggressively. That is, there was less of the victim mentality and more of the resolve to grow through difficulty, to confront personal weaknesses, and to strive for a better tomorrow. Daily living was exceedingly difficult. To accomplish anything of lasting value meant to take purposeful initiative.

Jonathan Edwards (1703-1758), for example, the great pastor and theologian from Massachusetts whose inspiring teaching sparked the First Great Awakening, accomplished much good in the lives of others. His sermons and writings have stirred hearts and motivated good actions for three centuries. One of the most inspiring aspects of Edward’s life, however, was his personal resolutions. At the age of 19, young Edwards began recording a set of personal commitments in his diary. Never intending them to be read, Edwards prayerfully committed himself to a series of specific boundaries to shape his heart and mind for loving God and loving others. It was their very secrecy in his diary that lends even more leverage to the resolutions’ personal impact. Over the next year of his young life, Edwards assembled carefully a list of seventy such resolutions that he would thoughtfully review and apply weekly. Imagine, seventy personal resolutions! Probing and profoundly humbling, Edward’s personal resolutions include such commitments as these…

• To pursue knowledge to God’s glory each day by writing down questions, doubts, and points of needed personal study.
• To give thanks to God as a lifestyle for the wonders of His creation, from the smallest flower to the largest galaxy.
• To avoid words that cast himself in a superior light to others.
• To err on the side of honesty at all points, never to inflate or distort the truth for personal gain.
• To be frugal, temperate and self-disciplined in body and mind.

Such personal challenge was not uncommon amongst the other early luminaries of our country. George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, and Benjamin Franklin all lived according to personal commitments they wrote down and reviewed regularly. Franklin, for example, worked painstakingly on a set of such boundaries concerning how to avoid unnecessary conflict with others, yet without compromising one’s position. Many of his practical passions made him the forerunner of modern business mentors such as Dale Carnegie (How to Win Friends and Influence People).

An experience from Benjamin Franklin’s own life illustrates the need for such an aggressive and self-scrutinizing approach to living. Franklin was a very young man, around 17 years of age, striving to make his way into the printing business, when the governor of Pennsylvania, Sir William Keith, postured himself as an advocate, vowing to become a patron for the budding journalist. He filled young Franklin’s ears with compliments and promises, one of which was to finance a trip for Franklin to London and provide letters of credit with suppliers of equipment and fonts for his printing business. Excited beyond imagination, young Franklin set out for his trip across the Atlantic, only to discover that the well-intentioned governor was big on promises and small on delivery. A mutual friend described Governor Keith as capricious; too eager to encourage others with glowing words, ringing endorsements, and implied commitments, but with very little follow-through. In short, the friend told Franklin the governor had no credits to give. From that point on, Benjamin Franklin resolved for his own words to others must always represent honestly what his heart would endeavor to accomplish. May you and I be so resolute.

Moses asked God in Psalm 90:12, “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” In an age of apathy, entitlement, and passivity, let us learn from Edwards, Washington, Jefferson, and Franklin to resolve toward bettering ourselves.

Have you ever had the opportunity to take a vacation, and tried vacationing at home instead of getting away?  In the past, as a homebody, I have been tempted to stay put when vacationing.  I love home– not just the house, but the feeling of comfort, rest, and security in my family’s home.  But, over the years, I’ve learned an important lesson– there is a depth of refreshment that only a change of surroundings can bring.  No calls, no emails, no home repairs, no stacks of mail and papers that inevitably crowd life at home.  The advantage here is obvious– getting away is an escape from the reminders of tasks yet undone, of pressures and responsibilities lurking in corners within the home.  But there are more reasons why travel is a healthy and welcome change to the pace of life.  I’ve reflected on why this change of surroundings is so nourishing and necessary.

Recently, my family took a trip to Washington D.C.  The trip was anything but restful– full of miles of walking, museum tours, metro rides, security check-points– but although tiring, it was nonetheless refreshing.  Part of the refreshment was due to the complete immersion into something different than the normal details of life.  I have always loved history, and this binge on the history of our country was a treat for my soul.  So, when planning any kind of getaway, I like to think of immersion into some area of passion as a healing opportunity to see the forest instead of the trees in life.

But there is more.  There is something about the simplicity of being a traveler that is refreshing as well.   Living out of a suitcase, with perhaps one or two books, just a few changes of clothes, not a lot of familiar distractions, reminds me of what matters most in life.  I am reminded of the classic Greek myth of the fox and the hedgehog here.  The fox is a sleek, clever animal– quick, able to dabble here and there, focusing on many things.  Often, this is like our busy juggling routine we call life.  The hedgehog, on the other hand, is a very slow and simple animal.  The hedgehog doesn’t trouble himself with many things, but tends to focus on one main thing, methodically plodding through the simple day.  I want to inject more hedgehog into my life– opting to do a few main, important, god-honoring things well rather than juggle a hundred and one less important things.  When traveling, the sheer simplicity of life out of a suitcase refocuses my soul on what matters most.

Further, being a traveler reminds me of the hardships that are a necessary part of life.  In fact, the English word travel comes from the French “travail,” meaning labor or hardship.  When we travel, we engage in an energy-intensive journey, as opposed to being a tourist, where we buy a catered adventure free of the nuisances that fill out the spectrum of life experiences.  I tend to slip into a mode of living where I expect leisure and rest to be the daily right.  But travel reminds me that energy-intensive process is often as important or more so than the closure of the product.  It is not just the museum that is significant, but the trip to the museum with the children on the metro that completes the experience. 

It is no coincidence that traveling imagery is often used to describe the spiritual life.  The classic John Bunyan story, Pilgrim’s Progress, reveals the process of pursuing God’s goodness amidst a life path of perils, temptations, hardships, and pains.  The pilgrim learns trust, and discovers that the hunger for more of God is what keeps his wayward heart from the wrong path.  Surely, it is the arduous journey that yields these lessons, not the mountaintop or the comfortable evening at home.  So, I enjoy my time at home, but I enjoy it even more when mixed with a measure of traveling lessons.

“I stand at the altar of Almighty God, with hatred against any form of tyranny over the mind of man.”
–Thomas Jefferson, etched into the ceiling of the Jefferson Memorial.

Recently, my wife and I had the distinct privilege of taking our children on a vacation to Washington D.C. Inspired by the history, deeply moved by the monuments, humbled by the sacrifices made by so many to secure our freedoms, we will never forget the experience. In the Jefferson Memorial, we stood amazed at the grandeur and profundity of the place and its significance—for our country and for all of us who are privileged to be Americans. These passionate ideas springing from the pen of Thomas Jefferson set ablaze not only the hearts of our founding fathers, but also inspired other nations as well with the life-changing vision of true freedom for all people. We soaked in the gravity of these words while in the rotunda of the Monument.

Upon entering the gift shop in the basement of the Memorial, however, I overheard a discussion between two people that made my heart sink. They both agreed that they had discovered the most glaring example of tyranny over the mind—religion! In their view, it is religion that is the most cruel form of tyranny over the mind of man, and that Jefferson was standing passionately against organized religion; that it is religion that is the great evil and opponent of freedom and its oppressive nature that makes separation of church and state a necessity in the mind of Thomas Jefferson. The discussion, I believe, reveals much about our culture today.

On the one hand, the current feeling in our culture is that religion is oppressive. I know this to be true in some forms of its expression. Throughout history, religious fervor can be expressed in ways that stifle joy, inquiry, and heart freedom. Judgmental attitudes, arbitrary rules applied without grace, and unforgiving attitudes have made the religious experience of some a tyranny over the mind and heart. However, this is not the sole sin of religious institutions. Over the years, I have seen oppression and tyranny take many forms, both secular and religious. Educational institutions, political entities, corporations, governments—all of them can become tyrannical. Indeed, Thomas Jefferson would have opposed religious tyranny—but not religious tyranny alone.

On the other hand, I have experienced forms of religious expression that are wonderfully freeing, empowering, inspiring, and life-changing for the good of others. I have found the message of Jesus Christ to be freeing in this way. Jefferson realized that religious belief, properly expressed, is a great fountain of good. His own heart was stirred by a belief in God that gave substance to his passions. Notice in the above quote his reference to standing at the “altar of Almighty God.” Further, consider the following quotes from Jefferson:

“God who gave us life gave us liberty. Can the liberties of a nation be secure when we have removed a conviction that these liberties are the gift of God?”
–Notes on the State of Virginia, etched in the Jefferson Memorial.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness…”
–The Declaration of Independence.

For Jefferson, his belief in God, though expressed differently than my own, was central to his belief in personal freedoms and rights. Thomas Jefferson was a staunch Deist, who believed in a distant, impersonal, and uninvolved God. Jefferson was very much a child of the Enlightenment view of God. Nonetheless, to say Jefferson was unreligious or antireligious would be a mockery of his personal beliefs. His convictions about personal, universal freedoms and rights were anchored in the concept of their being installed by our Creator. The divine origin of these rights is what made them unalterable and self-evident for Jefferson. In other words, it was as though Jefferson was warning, “No person or government should mess with what God Almighty has created in the heart of humanity.” I am NOT saying that we should require all people to have a belief in God (such a posture would be the tyranny against which Jefferson warned). What I AM saying is that freedom to worship God and respect for such religious belief are the overflow of Jefferson’s ideal.

Thomas Jefferson was deeply passionate about freedom. But it was not freedom from religion, but freedom for religion. His goal was not to eradicate religion. One need only consider figures like William Wilberforce in England or Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. to know that positive religious belief motivated some profound and good changes in the world. The reason Thomas Jefferson wanted religion and state to be separate was to protect religion from state coercion or control. Indeed, I too passionately stand against all forms of tyranny, religious or otherwise. But let us not throw the baby out with the bathwater where religious belief is concerned (thinking religious belief is inherently oppressive), rather let us show respect for passionate religious belief expressed in love as a harbinger of profound human advancement.

Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and…play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. …There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and they would resign.

–Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer.

A powerful engine for personal change is in counseling what is called “reframing.” Reframing is the conscious redefining of a situation that can profoundly change our attitude about it for the better. Often, it is the way we perceive a challenge that affects our will to see it change. One counselor I knew, for example, met with a woman who had painfully endured the loss of her son. Her friends had been telling her right away to “get on with life,” and “get over it.” After several years, she felt hopeless and stuck in her intense pain. Upon hearing her story, the wise counselor gave her a surprising assignment: he asked her to go home and grieve! He told her to write a grieving journal, to cry, to share her pain with others. Within weeks, she felt improvement. Why? She needed permission to feel bad, to grieve. In a sense, the counselor reframed the pain she had felt– her friends had made her feel the pain was a nuisance, a dysfunctional problem. The counselor reframed it into a God-given love of a mother for her son broken and needing to be felt. Healing came through pain she now had permission to feel. Reframing.

This concept of reframing is applicable to much of life. How you and I perceive our challenges greatly affects how we tackle them. Is it a mountain or a molehill? Is it a duty or an opportunity? Is it another cloudy day robbing me once again of joy like an Eeore. Yet another item on the list of complaints. Or, is this challenge an expected new opportunity to demonstrate patient endurance and persistence? Reframing.

Recently, in our church, I concluded a series of teachings on peacemaking. One of the profound lessons of the peacemaking study was that conflict, though unpleasant, is actually an opportunity– to learn about myself, my needs, my weaknesses, my pet agendas, my flaws. It is in the crucible of conflict that I learn to trust in the peacemaking God more, to work through my own selfishness and control issues, and to sort through the profound and humbling nature of forgiveness. Reframing.

In his classic novel, Tom Sawyer, Mark Twain paints a picture of young Tom as a restless adventurer eager to get out of work whenever possible. When commanded by his aunt to white wash a long stretch of fence, Tom discovers a quality of human nature that is a powerful force for motivation– if a task is a chore, dutifully to be done, it is a burden we will go to great length to avoid. But, if seen as an enviable opportunity, we’ll make great sacrifices to have the privilege of doing it! When Tom reframed the white washing chore into an enviable privilege, he saw his friends actually paying him for the honor of helping. Soon, the crafty Tom was sitting back, with an ever-growing collection of trinkets paid to him by friends eager to white wash the old fence. Reframing.

Though the Tom Sawyer account is one of manipulative laziness, the same sort of reframing can spawn admirable work in our own minds. In my family, we strive to have a weekly evening of family time reserved for fun, games, prayer, and memories. One such family evening, instead of focusing on fun and bonding time, my wife and I decided to do outdoor work on our property with the children, followed by a discussion about what we learned. Hauling big branches up a steep hill, clearing an area of unsafe rocks, picking up trash, the kids were thinking, “What type of family time is this?” But in discussion later, we asked the children the question, “Does family time always need to be playing games and being entertained?” We spoke of the profound way in which togetherness as a family sometimes means hard work together, expending energy to accomplish something good. Over the years, I’ve heard some people say, “Oh, I don’t get involved in church or community volunteering because family time is more important.” In my mind, this is a false dichotomy. How is spiritual or community involvement suddenly at odds with family? They should be melted into one. Reframing.

Affliction is the good man’s shining time.

–Abigail Adams, quoted in 1776 by David McCullough

The heart is a bloom. It shoots up through the stony ground.

–Bono, U2

I recall having a deep discussion with two of my children a few years ago about a concept we do not hear much of today– being “stout-hearted.” If you read much Christian literature from the Reformation period, you’ll find references to someone being “stout-hearted.” In our family discussion, my son was apt to think stoutness of heart to be a physical quality or a set of skills or abilities one possesses. But stoutness of heart was and is much more. It was more than mere courage and ambition, though both of these admirable qualities are under its umbrella.

Stoutness of heart is a quality of character involving an unshakeable resolve to pursue what is right, regardless of the hardships involved. The determination to pursue what is good and right even when no one is looking. The ambition to pursue what is just and honest even when others snicker and jeer. The love for what is noble even when those around you compromise or pursue other ends. Notice, such depth of character involves more than a mere cold adherence to duty. Doing what is good and right, truth-telling, and honoring God and others will grow over time in my life and endure through a heart celebration, not through duty alone. In this way, stoutness of heart is a groomed quality, built over time, not simply a skill or talent genetically inherited.

How do we develop stoutness of heart? How do we groom it into our families? First, I believe it involves loving the truth in our own hearts. Looking for moments to celebrate on a daily basis the truths that would guide us through life. For me, memorizing Scripture and reviewing key truths regularly, savoring them, raising my heart’s esteem for what is right amidst all that is wrong in the world around me is crucial.

Second, stoutness of heart grows over time through clinging to precious truths amidst adversity. Nothing great will be accomplished without the determined pursuit of truth amidst opposition, apathy, physical difficulty, and emotional challenge. Not that we should ever invent hardships, as life will bring a full stock of them to our lives without our trying! Yet, we should not avoid hardship either.

A lesson in stout heartedness is evident in the American Revolution. The Continental Army led by General George Washington was in many ways a rag-tag group of misfits by the military standards of the day. A group of artisans, blacksmiths, coopers, tailors, and farmers, untrained and lacking military talent, they faced the most highly-organized and disciplines army in the world– the British Army. In fact, the first four battles of 1776 were disastrous, resulting in many questioning the leadership abilities of General Washington. By war’s end in 1783, about 25,000 Americans had died, which amounted to about one percent of the fledgling country’s population. Further, the troops were ravaged by illness; small pox ran like wildfire among the American ranks. So, how did the colonists win the war? What the Americans lacked in military discipline and training, they made up for in dogged pursuit of their ideals amidst hardship. As historian David McCullough writes…

It was an army of men accustomed to hard work… They were familiar with adversity and making do in a harsh climate. Resourceful, handy with tools, they could drive a yoke of oxen or ‘hove up’ a stump or tie a proper knot as readily as butcher a hog or mend a pair of shoes. They knew from experience, most of them, the hardships and setbacks of life. Preparing for the worst was second nature. Rare was the man who had never seen someone die. …Many were missing teeth or fingers, pitted by smallpox or scarred by past wars or the all-too-common hazards of life and toil in the eighteenth century.

–David McCullough, 1776, p. 34

Such stoutness of heart is not forged overnight. It is built gradually, through the daily, weekly, monthly building into my life of what is not just urgent, but crucial. The clinging to what is good and right will not always scream out for immediate attention. In fact, such truths are often subtle, easily overlooked. Here is encouragement today to distill in life what is precious and true and hold it passionately in the face of adversity. Here’s to being stout of heart…

“If something is easy, you will not enjoy it, really.” Krzysztof Wielicki, Polish Mountain Climber.

“Behind every beautiful thing, there’s been some kind of pain.” Bob Dylan.

“A heart that hurts is a heart that beats.” Bono

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” Paul, 2 Corinthians 4:7

When I was a young man, I saw life in black and white, in monochrome. A monochrome image is one whose shades of definition are simply variations upon a single color. Mine was a monochrome world. I tended to appreciate only a limited range of values in the world around me. For example, in music and movies, it was the dramatic, bold, extravagant expressions that impressed me most. Often, I would hear of accolades given a particular musician and shake my head in wonder, as the artist seemed very vanilla to me. “What does everyone see in this guy?” was my common reaction. It was the flashy, the flamboyant, the maker of big waves that impressed me most.

But with age, I am growing gradually to live in color, in Technicolor. Technicolor was a film process developed in the 1930’s, used in famous movies like The Wizard of Oz and Snow White, that wowed audiences with its vivid tapestry of color. In a sense, Technicolor allowed moviegoers to experience the depth of the color spectrum we see in daily life. It is the appreciation of this spectrum that I am growing to savor. Subtlety of expression. I am coming with age to appreciate some of the musicians, for example, that I had once passed over. Valuing a tasteful and well-placed note and not just the speedy riff. Less is more where good music is concerned. More profoundly, I am gaining an appreciation for a quiet word well spoken, an oft-overlooked act of service, a tender expression in another’s pain, a cup of coffee with a friend and no agenda.

Why is this happening with age? I have long felt that growing older is a mixed bag of trials and blessings. On the one hand, we tire more easily, grow sore after the most innocuous of activities, and forget things more often. On the other hand, age gifts us with a better sense of proportion about what matters most, helps us to savor the simple pleasures, and provides a broader appreciation for subtlety. Part of my growing appreciation for the subtleties of life (and I assure you, I am very much still a neophyte here) comes through the very pain and difficulty, the very hardship and struggle, the very soreness and fatigue that I would think is the “downside” of aging. Famous American novelist, Willa Cather (1905-1947) wrote, “Hardship is the only thing that brings out the good in most people.” Yes, it is through the struggles, repeated mistakes, drop-dead sort of exhaustion and even exasperation of experience over time that I come to value God’s simple, more subtle blessings.

A handful of my favorite movies and songs, for example, are sad ones. Why? I don’t enjoy being sad. Why would I like these things then? It is what they stir within me. It is these movies and songs that cause me to care, to think, to examine my own life, and to savor God’s blessings. Singer Bono of U2 describes his love for the Blues in a similar way—it is in the Blues that the reality of life is captured. The Blues express the spectrum of life colors from the lofty ideals and unshakeable principles to the wrenching frailties and harsh realities of their application. We are a mixture of both bland and beautiful, of heroic and tragic, of ambitious and apathetic, of bold and fearful. I am beginning to learn that God’s richest blessings are indeed the subtle ones, meeting me in my bland, sore, tired, and everyday life. It is this that is helping me live in Technicolor…

“Quick, show me the Mona Lisa! I’m double parked.”
–American in a hurry, Louvre Museum in Paris

All of us appreciate a good shortcut. Shortcuts can save us time, aggravation, and gas. I remember in graduate school a friend explaining a nifty word processing shortcut on the computer that has served me well every week of my life since. I am always looking for wise shortcuts that allow me to work smarter, not harder. However, there are some endeavors where shortcuts can be costly.

In the business world, for example, an apt criticism of modern business is that it is so short-sighted. Immediate profitability is usually the bottom line in most business decisions. Yet, there are abundant creative business ideas that require long-range, patient discipline to groom consumer taste for the product. Sadly, many great ideas die for lack of long-range corporate vision. A classic example is Starbuck’s Coffee. Love it or hate it, Starbucks is an example of a business that actually created a market for itself. Before Starbucks, American culture settled for an “off the shelf” style of coffee because it hadn’t tasted variety where coffee was concerned. Starbucks introduced a richer, darker style of coffee that was new and different, and sought to nurture an appreciation for this type of coffee within the culture. Obviously, with sometimes two or three Starbucks on many suburban streets, the strategy worked. Long-range thinking. Disciplined effort. Saying no to shortcuts.

There are other, significant areas of life as well that do not lend themselves to shortcuts. Most of them involve sacrifice and an appreciation for process. But our culture tends to shun process in favor of product, instant value over disciplined effort. Imagine a group of people trying to write a vision statement or to codify a set of core values; their temptation would be simply to take a mission statement from another group they esteem or simply to have one of their members write their statement for them. However, it is the PROCESS of writing the statement that is just as valuable as the final product, if not more so. It is in the process of discussion, disagreement, resolution, further refinement, and final agreement that ambitious and unified vision is born. I’m sorry, but such process defies shortcuts.

Important areas of life require disciplined and enduring action over time to produce the lasting and worthwhile affect we desire. Playing a musical instrument requires years of patient practice to make the rudiments instinctive, opening doors for creative, spontaneous, and enjoyable music. Beautiful dance requires years of practiced movement to make for the seemingly effortless performance. Scientific research requires careful and attentive experimentation and scrutiny to produce trustworthy results for advancement. Yet, I fear that our entertainment-oriented culture is losing its appreciation for discipline. Guitar Hero provides the thrill and exhilaration of successful musical performance without the years of dedicated effort. Virtual reality robs our appreciation for the mundane and necessary disciplines to enhance our ACTUAL reality.