Friday, December 28, 2012

Wisdom of the Jaded Father

My biggest hope is that you never grow up to learn the truth in life. That you never learn that nothing in this life is real. That nothing in this life is trustworthy. That nothing is forever and nothing will ever truly care. They say ignorance is bliss and son, that's the best way to live. Don't search too hard because one day you might find it. Don't waste your time looking. The disappointment of never knowing is truly far less than the disappointment of knowing. 

If only I could turn back time and live that moment once more, that moment right before I learned. Oh how I would savor it like the last drop of honey tea on a cool November evening. It would be like the fresh breeze coming off a field of overgrown daisies; sweet, refreshing and fleeting. That moment is precious I tell you. More valuable than you could know. It is the instant that life goes from all things good to pain and discontent. Those last few seconds before you learn are the freest you'll ever be again. It'll be the last time you'll ever smile of genuine happiness rather than happiness in-spite of. The last moments before you begin a life of buts, ands, ors, what-abouts, how's bouts, and then agains. It is the last moment of your youth. 

I hope, truly hope you never grow up to learn the truth. 

Friday, May 25, 2012

By Chance


Plots are for stories, accidents for life. Chance seemed more significant than choice.
-John Dufresne, Johnny Too Bad

            It is by chance that I read these words in the last hour of my bus ride to Scranton just after Gail’s stop. It is by chance that I was even on that bus. By chance that I woke up this morning with the spontaneous idea to buy a ticket to LaGuardia to take a bus to the Port Authority in Manhattan to take the 11:00pm bus to Scranton, PA. It is by chance that I sat in the last empty row of four seats leading me to give up my seat so that a little girl and her father could sit next to each other and it is by that chance that I ended up sitting next to Gail.
            Gail is a middle-aged black woman who lives in Mount Pocono, a onetime Brooklynite from the Adirondacks. She is a gentle woman; she speaks softly but is assertive. She has just a dash of grey coming in around her temple and her voice is reminiscent of an old time Blues singer. She works for the police department in Brooklyn doing clerical work but desires so much more. A missionary at heart, Gail mobilizes people from her congregation and hits the streets to bring the love of Christ to those in her neighborhood. Wanting to serve and love better Gail recently received her certification as a Nursing Assistant so that she can offer more to her community. She wonders if it’s possible to go to another country to do missionary work.
            As I sat by myself in the very last row of the airplane headed to LaGuardia I hoped that I’d meet someone interesting on the bus and that we’d have great conversation. Gail is more than interesting she’s inspirational. We discussed daily life, aspirations, and religion. I taught her about the Chinese language and she taught me about the bus route. Mostly though, Gail taught me about myself. In the two hours I spent seated next to Gail I learned about who I am, how I relate to God, and why I love people the way I do.
            Gail got off the bus the stop before mine, leaving me with forty minutes to coast through the darkness of Pennsylvania in deep reflection. The last twelve hours have made me come alive inside. It was as if God was breathing air into my lungs for the first time. I was overwhelmed with joy and appreciation. It made me realize that in people I find God and in spontaneity I find his freedom. I’ve never been one to fly through the clouds or stand beside the mountains or look out on the ocean and be amazed by what God had created. To say to myself, “there is a God and this is his work.” But on that bus I looked around and said just that. Look at the people that God has created, he is real and they are his works.
            While Gail was getting ready to leave the bus she turned to me and said, I hope we meet again. I told her, we will one day. Until that time comes though I will think about Gail often. I will pray for her and relive that moment over and over again in my head. I will tell friends about her and work parts of that moment into future conversations. As my memory fogs I will remember the experience differently. Things about Gail will change and how I speak of them will too, but what she taught me will remain. What I take away from this trip will forever be valuable.
            I might have made the choice to go though with my idea, to change my flight ahead, or to switch seats with that little girl, but it was the chance in this trip, in that moment, in this life that is most significant. 

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Fortunately, We're All Unfortunate

Today, as I skimmed through Facebook I noticed a comment on a photo that struck me. The person was commenting on the size of a guy’s nipples saying that they were the smallest nipples in the world. A strange comment in itself but it made me think of a comment my aunt made to me the other day. My aunt was commenting on the excessive amount of hair I had growing from my head and face.

She said, “unfortunately, people will judge you and you don’t want them to think badly or little of you before they get to know you.”

To which my mother said, “I understand what you’re saying but I don’t think his hair necessarily detracts from the kind of person he is.”

To which my aunt responded, “yes, but that is because we already know the true James.”

To which I said, “I don’t want to associate with people who don’t want to know me because of the way I look. The way someone looks would never stop me from getting to know them and I want to be friends with people who are like me.”

The conversation volleyed a few more remarks before fading away, but when I read the comment on Facebook I couldn’t help but be reminded of it. Nipples. One cannot even have tiny nipples without eliciting a remark from someone. My aunt was right, unfortunately people will judge me before ever knowing me; however, it’s unfortunate for reasons other then some people choosing to think I’m homeless or a terrorist or even worse, A HOMELESS TERRORIST! It’s unfortunate because there are people who hate themselves based on what others think of them. Right this moment there are people attempting to starve themselves into acceptance and when that doesn’t work they are heaving themselves over the toilet to empty as much stomach content as possible. It’s unfortunate because right this moment there are people undergoing surgery so that when others look at them they’ll be more widely accepted. It’s unfortunate because there are hundreds of millions of people around the world abusing drugs and alcohol in an attempt to forget how unfortunate they are.

What’s even more unfortunate though, is how easy it is for us to propagate the notion of visual acceptance. I say us because I am far from being free of this. I care way too much about the way others look at me, which I take in and then regurgitate into a shallow web of opinion and thought processes. I have become so numbed to the effects of visual judgment that I will without thought mention to someone how small their ears are, how orange their skin is, how outgrown their hair is, how chapped their lips are, how abnormally tall they are, etc which are sadly all real instances. This is the most unfortunate of it all. That I accept it, is shameful and disgusting.

Yet, there is beauty to this all. We’re all unfortunate. We’ll never appease others and will always struggle to satisfy our opinions. I’ll never meet the romantic vision of self and life that I have in my head. I’ll never look a way that everyone else approves of. I can though, be everything the Lord wants me to be. I can exist from a place of love. I can see past opinion. I can think beyond my typical thought process. I can notice a trait unique to someone else and use it to encourage that person. I can propagate differences. I can choose to see souls rather than bodies. I can know love, I can love, and I can be love; and in love I can choose an acceptance beyond visual acceptance.

Although I don’t struggle with befriending people because they look or are a certain way I don’t do anything to live in resistance to the acceptance of being unfortunate. I don’t use the radical grace of Jesus to stir me into a blind love. I don’t consciously choose to live beyond the chains of visual acceptance or to partner with the Lord in an attempt to remove them entirely. This is unfortunate but so are we all, which is why we are fortunate to have a God who contends for his people. Who provides acceptance and changes hearts.