I started watching the series "Gossip Girl." I have to admit, I like it. I kind of like it a lot. There's an inherent desire to BE these characters or at least be friend with them. Who doesn't want to be a classy Upper East-ender? There's glamour and prestige and of course scandal. There's the kid who doesn't want the path his father is laying out for him, the girl seeking approval and slaying any in her path, and the outsider whom no one realizes is the most well-adjusted of the bunch. There's love and hate, joy and despair, light and dark. So life-like, really. Right? Well, maybe not...
But we want it to be that simple unfortunately we do not have professional writers scripting out our life plans or lack thereof. We have free will and make choices each day that make no sense. We lose the plot sometimes. And when the credits start rolling, we aren't bating our breath for ratings but whether or not there will be a breath tomorrow. So why the love of this kind of show?
I only ask because I need to know the answer for myself too. Why do I get absorbed in a television series? For me, I think it's the character development. it probably is for you too. I love watching the interactions of these characters as they "live their lives." My favorite episodes of Criminal Minds for example are ones where Dr. Reid or Morgan go back to their hometowns and discover something about their own story. I enjoy the episodes of House M.D. where we see the blooming relationship between Chase and Cameron or the dysfunction between House, Wilson and Cuddy. I'm drawn to these great stories about the characters I've come to share life with. But it all ends neatly in 50 minutes and I have to adjust again to unpredictable, chaotic, uncomfortably anti-climatic reality. If I could just be a part of something as exciting and moving as these characters are, maybe I would be as well-scripted and cool, for lack of a better word. I guess maybe I want others to want to be me the way I want to be Reid or Serena or Wilson. Is that too honest to admit?
One last thought on this TV World I've concocted for myself. And really it's a thought for you, my reader. What show do I identify more strongly with and why is that? Do I prefer Upper East End of NY (Gossip Girl), Newport Beach Cali (The OC), D.C (Bones/Criminal Minds)? Do I seek solace in the content of the show such as living an extravagant life (GG/OC), working tirelessly for the salvation of human life (CM), or being intelligent and wise thus making myself a required element of the team (Bones/House/CM)? What about you? Or am I the only living here in this oasis of Unreality?
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
Walking the Tightrope
"Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the Lord which He will work for you today... The Lord will fight for you and you have only to be silent." Exodus 14:13-14
There is a story I like to share about a crowd standing beside the Grand Canyon. Stretched across the great chasm is a tightrope. As the crowd watches in awe, a man walks quickly across the rope form one side to the other. Then he does so again, this time with a wheelbarrow. Back and forth he travels and the people are amazed! As he reaches the edge where the crowd has gathered, he asks a question, "Do you think I can do it again?" A resounding cry of "YES!!" replies. So he looks among them and sees a young man who seems particularly enthusiastic to see this feat repeated. The tightrope walker steps over and asks, "Do you trust that I can do it again enough that you will ride in the wheelbarrow?"
I find myself in that position somewhat frequently throughout the stages in my life. Not so much the tightrope walker, but the young man being asked to trust in something altogether out of his control. Sometimes I feel like I say "Yes!" only to get worried and anxious halfway through the journey. It's in those times that it can be particularly dangerous. You're halfway there! Jumping out or rocking the boat would mean certain death! Alas, it's happened to me a time or two.
Most often I talk myself out of the wheelbarrow before I get in. All I can see are the chasm or the tautness of the rope or the drift of the wind. All these elements warn me of what I cannot affect. So rather than trust, I cower. I lose heart. I don't think I'm much different from the whiny Israelites to whom the opening passage refers. They, far more than I, faced a great threat. And they, like me, freaked out.
"They said to Moses, "Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us in bringing us out of Egypt? Is not this what we said to you in Egypt: 'Leave us alone that we may serve the Egyptians'? For it would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness."
They couldn't see past the impending doom. they couldn't see the opportunity for God to show them something HUGE! And likewise I see the small story, the pain or discomfort or disappointment rather than the growth and joy God is showing me is available. Let me ask you a question: has there been a time in your life that was really tough? Maybe you lost hope or something rocked your world so hard you never thought it'll be right again. Maybe you are there today? I know I've been there. I think we all have moments and experiences we wish we could erase. Or somehow make easier. Sometimes we tell ourselves that it would have been a better thing if this had happened or you had gotten what you had prayed for. And the agony of knowing you couldn't change a thing! It's those times when we know in the core of our being there's gotta be something bigger than this because we know we are so ill-equipped to do this on our own.
Now, can you tell me, as you look back on those times of despair,that you are not a changed person because of them? Can you say that you did not learn something about your character and spirit when you were most severely tested? Just as the Israelites saw only the difficulty that faced them, I think I tend to take that view myself instead of trusting that God has something magnificent to show me through my trial. See the next part of the story is the most difficult...
"And Moses said to the people, "Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again. The LORD will fight for you, and YOU HAVE ONLY TO BE SILENT."
See, it all comes back to whether or not we trust that God can run that wheelbarrow across the tightrope. We've seen him do it again and again. We get excited to see the miracles in others. We shout "YES!" when we feel strong or want to see God's presence in our lives. But when confronted with an opportunity to really place everything in His hands, we shy away. We close shop and retreat. I find myself gathering into myself all the pieces I've let out so as to keep them as my own rather than see whether God will give or take away. Why do we do that? Why do we assume that our ways are better? Or that somehow God does not understand the depth of our desire or need? When in fact, God is the One who gave us the capacity to desire, the weakness to make us humble enough to need Him, and the joy of wonder when we are redeemed from the trial. I expect he rejoices greatly in that moment that we realize we cannot do this but by His grace and mercy. He rejoices not because we are broken and hurting and wrecked, but because finally, wearily, blessedly, we are once again in His hand.
So much of our lives are out of our control. It's no wonder that we want to plan our days, monitor our food intake and hold onto our money so nothing can shake us. ANYTHING could happen to rock our world to smithereens. We really ARE that fragile. So when we're asked simply to be silent and allow God to fight for us, something rises up in defiance. We want to be able to fight for ourselves. We want to be strong enough to do that. We want to be brave enough to stare down our enemy. We want to be our own savior. Isn't that what we are really saying?
"And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved."
There is nothing we can do to reconcile ourselves to God. We can't be strong enough or brave enough or smart enough. But we can get in the wheelbarrow and choose to trust that God can save us. We can actively move to a place of complete surrender to our Savior. I learned long ago that when we pray, we should do so with open hands. Closed hands limit what we can bear to let go and make receiving that much more difficult. Open hands may mean we lose hold of some things we want to hold on to, but we receive more than we can ask for.
There is a story I like to share about a crowd standing beside the Grand Canyon. Stretched across the great chasm is a tightrope. As the crowd watches in awe, a man walks quickly across the rope form one side to the other. Then he does so again, this time with a wheelbarrow. Back and forth he travels and the people are amazed! As he reaches the edge where the crowd has gathered, he asks a question, "Do you think I can do it again?" A resounding cry of "YES!!" replies. So he looks among them and sees a young man who seems particularly enthusiastic to see this feat repeated. The tightrope walker steps over and asks, "Do you trust that I can do it again enough that you will ride in the wheelbarrow?"
I find myself in that position somewhat frequently throughout the stages in my life. Not so much the tightrope walker, but the young man being asked to trust in something altogether out of his control. Sometimes I feel like I say "Yes!" only to get worried and anxious halfway through the journey. It's in those times that it can be particularly dangerous. You're halfway there! Jumping out or rocking the boat would mean certain death! Alas, it's happened to me a time or two.
Most often I talk myself out of the wheelbarrow before I get in. All I can see are the chasm or the tautness of the rope or the drift of the wind. All these elements warn me of what I cannot affect. So rather than trust, I cower. I lose heart. I don't think I'm much different from the whiny Israelites to whom the opening passage refers. They, far more than I, faced a great threat. And they, like me, freaked out.
"They said to Moses, "Is it because there are no graves in Egypt that you have taken us away to die in the wilderness? What have you done to us in bringing us out of Egypt? Is not this what we said to you in Egypt: 'Leave us alone that we may serve the Egyptians'? For it would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the wilderness."
They couldn't see past the impending doom. they couldn't see the opportunity for God to show them something HUGE! And likewise I see the small story, the pain or discomfort or disappointment rather than the growth and joy God is showing me is available. Let me ask you a question: has there been a time in your life that was really tough? Maybe you lost hope or something rocked your world so hard you never thought it'll be right again. Maybe you are there today? I know I've been there. I think we all have moments and experiences we wish we could erase. Or somehow make easier. Sometimes we tell ourselves that it would have been a better thing if this had happened or you had gotten what you had prayed for. And the agony of knowing you couldn't change a thing! It's those times when we know in the core of our being there's gotta be something bigger than this because we know we are so ill-equipped to do this on our own.
Now, can you tell me, as you look back on those times of despair,that you are not a changed person because of them? Can you say that you did not learn something about your character and spirit when you were most severely tested? Just as the Israelites saw only the difficulty that faced them, I think I tend to take that view myself instead of trusting that God has something magnificent to show me through my trial. See the next part of the story is the most difficult...
"And Moses said to the people, "Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again. The LORD will fight for you, and YOU HAVE ONLY TO BE SILENT."
See, it all comes back to whether or not we trust that God can run that wheelbarrow across the tightrope. We've seen him do it again and again. We get excited to see the miracles in others. We shout "YES!" when we feel strong or want to see God's presence in our lives. But when confronted with an opportunity to really place everything in His hands, we shy away. We close shop and retreat. I find myself gathering into myself all the pieces I've let out so as to keep them as my own rather than see whether God will give or take away. Why do we do that? Why do we assume that our ways are better? Or that somehow God does not understand the depth of our desire or need? When in fact, God is the One who gave us the capacity to desire, the weakness to make us humble enough to need Him, and the joy of wonder when we are redeemed from the trial. I expect he rejoices greatly in that moment that we realize we cannot do this but by His grace and mercy. He rejoices not because we are broken and hurting and wrecked, but because finally, wearily, blessedly, we are once again in His hand.
So much of our lives are out of our control. It's no wonder that we want to plan our days, monitor our food intake and hold onto our money so nothing can shake us. ANYTHING could happen to rock our world to smithereens. We really ARE that fragile. So when we're asked simply to be silent and allow God to fight for us, something rises up in defiance. We want to be able to fight for ourselves. We want to be strong enough to do that. We want to be brave enough to stare down our enemy. We want to be our own savior. Isn't that what we are really saying?
"And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among men by which we must be saved."
There is nothing we can do to reconcile ourselves to God. We can't be strong enough or brave enough or smart enough. But we can get in the wheelbarrow and choose to trust that God can save us. We can actively move to a place of complete surrender to our Savior. I learned long ago that when we pray, we should do so with open hands. Closed hands limit what we can bear to let go and make receiving that much more difficult. Open hands may mean we lose hold of some things we want to hold on to, but we receive more than we can ask for.
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