Andrew Schwab is a notable author, journalist and lead vocalist for the rock band Project 86. He has written for magazine publications including: Relevant, AP, CCM and HM. He is a published author with 4 available books, including his latest FAME IS INFAMY, available now on the store button above!
Ah, the holidays. Sinatra sang, It’s the most wonderful time of the year. And for many, it is. It is a time to reflect with joy, to give gifts with cheer, and to celebrate with family and friends,
For others, however, the holidays can serve as a glaring reminder of the dysfunction in our lives. In the place of glad tidings, some of us find ourselves ensnared by bouts of depression and hopelessness, which in certain cases has been made worse by the current economic landscape. For a growing number, this season can inflame an increasingly common issue in our culture: addiction.
It is a problem which has reached epic proportions. Everywhere we turn, someone is battling a deadly habit. Addiction has infiltrated all aspects of culture, from the media and music to sports, from Mel Gibson to Tiger Woods. Television shows like Intervention and Celebrity Rehab have become popular fare. And for every Robert Downey, Jr. there is an Amy Winehouse, a Michael Jackson, or a Kurt Cobain.
Addiction is not just a problem for the famous, however. There are over seven million drug and alcohol addicts in the US at present, according to the US Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration. And recently, the medical establishment has expanded the term “addict” to include any compulsive behavior—not just substance abuse. Culture as a whole has embraced this expanded definition as well. This means that individuals can be labeled addicts if they overindulge in sex, if they drink too much coffee, or even if they play too much XBOX.
We are a society which has become defined by our vices, and by the term “addiction” itself.
The problem has even infiltrated the walls of the church. As a professional musician, author, and speaker who has traversed Christian culture extensively, I have encountered hundreds of “believing addicts.” The leading Christian addiction recovery program—Celebrate Recovery-boasts nearly a million members. With numbers such as these, it is obvious that evangelicals are following the trends of the secular mainstream.
Subsequently, there are millions in treatment and recovery programs. The walls of AA, NA and Celebrate Recovery are bursting with those desperately fighting to end the cycle. Steps are worked and meetings are attended, yet relapse abounds. And here is a staggering fact: Most recovery programs have a success rate of less than twenty-five percent.
Having witnessed so many caught in the cycle of attempted recovery and tragic relapse, I can’t help but wonder if our culture-and more specifically the church-is missing something important in all of this.
Is addiction a disease that afflicts certain unlucky people, or is it a symptom of something greater that occurs in every human soul? And should the goal of recovery be to simply eliminate destructive habits, or should the end be something deeper?
Jesus taught that humans are born incomplete, with an emptiness that is a consequence of living in a world that is imperfect, painful, and sinful. Therefore life, for each of us, is an attempt to fill this void; We are each “coping,” in a sense, with living a broken existence, separated from God by evil—both around us and inside of us. We each cope in our own way: some with benign outlets such as working, studying, family, or creativity, and others with more self-destructive activities such as alcohol abuse or compulsive gambling.
But Jesus proclaimed there is no way to quench the thirst inside us for peace, no way to properly “cope” with living this broken existence but one:
Knowing Him.
Perhaps an incomplete diagnosis of the problem has left us emphasizing the symptoms. Perhaps labeling those caught in a destructive cycle as addicts neglects the fact that we all have the same need: to find our soul’s satisfaction in God alone. And maybe this has made recovery more difficult in the process.
C.S. Lewis wrote, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that we were made for another world.”
Perhaps addiction, then, in light of this, is a symptom of every person’s need for spiritual renewal. Maybe recovery, then, is more than just the elimination of our deadly habits, but the reconciliation of our souls with our creator. In this sense, perhaps we are all addicts in need of recovery, afflicted with the disease of sin. And if so, we must look at the prevalence of addiction in our culture as a signpost for the spiritual bankruptcy of our society, the need for a return to faith.
If you find yourself feeling empty, depressed, or alone this holiday season, perhaps instead of running from those emotions, it is time to sit in them. If your wounds are reopened at the sound of carols or the smell of pine, instead of running to your deadly habits, listen to the cry of your heart.
The fact that there is a void inside should remind us why the holiday exists. It is a celebration of His entrance into our world, of His desire to bring us back to Him, and most importantly, of His desire to heal our pain and make us whole again.
And in this realization, it is possible that true, lasting recovery can be found.
Psalm 91:1-8
He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress,
My God, in whom I trust!”
For it is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper
And from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with His pinions,
And under His wings you may seek refuge;
His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark.
You will not be afraid of the terror by night,
Or of the arrow that flies by day;
Of the pestilence that stalks in darkness,
Or of the destruction that lays waste at noon.
A thousand may fall at your side
And ten thousand at your right hand,
But it shall not approach you.
Sometimes it is easy to forget that Jesus is not only our savior, but our protector. I know I forget this, because, let’s face it, life is constantly coming at us with new obstacles.
But here in Psalm 91 He promises to not only guard our souls, but also our mortal selves, if we remain close to Him. I love the imagery that the writer uses in these verses, because he describes God like a great bird, implying that we are his small, fragile hatchlings. So, when rain comes he literally covers us. And when we fall from the nest he flies down, snatches us up, and returns us to the safety of the nest. This is extremely comforting in uncertain times.
I need to be reminded that He cares about our safety, and that He does not desire that we experience unnecessary pains in this life–self-inflicted or otherwise. He promises to preserve us through difficult seasons. He tells us we do not have to fear the recession the world faces, nor anything else, because despite the forces of calamity and darkness which surround us, we will always be provided for and covered.
So, if these are His promises, how do we reconcile this with the very real difficulties we encounter daily? Does God not live up to his word when bad things happen?
I know, by faith, that God allows difficult things to happen to us for a reason, for a purpose. We must believe this, even if we do not always understand why he is allowing it at the time. He knows what is best for us, even if we do not.
And by faith, we must not forget that His ultimate plan is to draw us near to Him, which cannot happen without some difficulty in life. The fact is, we would not rely upon Him if life was always roses; we would only rely upon ourselves.
We must cling to the idea that even when challenges arise, God is allowing just enough tension in our lives to produce reliance upon, while still using His great wing to shield us from real destruction. He takes great pains to negotiate this balance, and rather than contradicting Himself, he is always drawing us closer to His embrace through the difficulties we face.
Share a story about a storm below, and tell us how he provided shelter throughout it…
So we are always of good courage. We know that while we are at home in body we are away from the Lord, for we walk by faith not by sight. Yes, we are of good courage, and we would rather be away from the body and at home with the Lord.
- 1 Corinthians 5:6-8
When I stop and think about it, I spend a good deal of time throughout my day in a state of distraction from one undeniable fact: one day my life is going to end. I realize I do this for several reasons.
First, I have a natural tendency to want to pretend that heaven is possible here on earth. So, I store up physical treasures like HD televisions and iPads and sweet BBQs, as well as non-physical treasures like Lake Tahoe snowboarding adventures and Pacific Ocean fishing trip memories.
Second, I have a natural proclivity to lay up anchor here, to think this place is my home. So, I cling to things I do not want to ever let go of—like my youth and my health and my dog. These are things of great value, but just like my life in this place, they are not permanent, or at least they will not exist in their present state for me beyond my stay on earth.
Third, sometimes I have doubts. I think to myself, What if all this God business is just a made up story and there is nothing waiting for me on the other side? What if when you die, that’s it, your body melts into the dirt and your mind just shuts off like a dead 9-volt and you are forgotten?
But when I read scripture like the passage above it defies my natural tendencies and doubts. I am reminded that this life is not my home, that though HDTVs and snowboarding trips and dogs (in no particular order) are great, they pale in comparison to what lies ahead. Or at least, I know by faith that though I cannot see what is ahead, I can trust in God’s character; I know because of all he has done for me in the past that he will not sell me short in eternity.
I will have a new life and a new body and a new home waiting for me that is so superior to what I have now that I cannot even fathom it. It will be like moving from a cheap one-bedroom studio in downtown Compton, Los Angeles, to my own castle in the Swiss Alps.
This is why we read Scripture—to be reminded of the things that we so naturally forget. So, do you have a passage to post below that will remind us of other things we may be forgetting?
I thought it would be cool to share some thoughts on my readings on a more consistent basis here.
Keep deception and [a]lies far from me, Give me neither poverty nor riches; Feed me with the food that is my portion, That I not be full and deny You and say, “Who is the LORD?” Or that I not be in want and steal, And profane the name of my God.
Proverbs 30:8-9 NASB
We cannot be consumed with the future because the future is not guaranteed. And even if it is, our time on earth is so, so short. We are to ask for our DAILY bread, and to focus on the now, because the future is in God’s hands. This is comforting to me because, lately, I spend so much time thinking about the variables which lie ahead – How will I be provided for ten years from now? What will I do? Where will I live?
All we can do is make a list of the ways we are blessed and provided for today. All I can do is reflect on the divine provisions I have been given right now, and it will force me to acknowledge that Jesus is real, he is here, and he cares for me.
The reason why he says give us this day our DAILY bread is because if we have enough—not too little or much, as Solomon put it in Ecclesiastes—we will neither become complacent, nor will we starve. Our only recourse is to be thankful for what we have today and rely on God for what will come in the next 24 hours. In the meantime, we commit fully to our work and seek Him with all our might.
This is a life of success, achievement, and most of all, peace.
I would love to hear your feedback below. Check back regularly for more…
I shot a Desert Eagle for the first time not long ago. I am not going to lie–it was nothing short of freaking AWESOME. At .50 caliber, it’s one of the most powerful handguns around. Just handling it, unloaded, is an experience that inspires awe…the weight, the feel, the potency. I was actually just a tiny bit nervous to shoot it because they have been known to tear fingers off, if handled incorrectly while firing.
So there I was, holding the unloaded “king bird” in my hands, when I was handed a full clip. My heart raced as I locked in the rounds and cocked it. Then, I looked down the laser scope at my target–a suspended clay pigeon thirty yards away. I made sure my grip was firm. I held my breath as I eased my index finger toward my palm, preparing for a loud crack, and…
BOOOM!
It was so much more powerful than I expected. As the gun exploded, my arms lurched upward. My whole body tilted, threatening to topple. If I hadn’t been gripping the gun so tightly, it would have rocketed out of my hands and flown twenty yards behind me. The world fell silent, as the shot echoed into the forest around me. It was deafening. It was the loudest noise I had ever heard in my entire life. And it was completely, utterly amazing.
As I fired off more rounds, I felt power surge through my veins. And I couldn’t help thinking…If this gun was fired at a human, how devastating would it be? It wouldn’t just leave a hole. It would leave a flesh crater. The picture of this only increased my fear, awe, and respect for the violent machine I held in my hand. I thought to myself, this gun is deadly.
But then, a random quote popped in my head for some reason. It’s a stupid quote, and one that I had dismissed the countless times I had seen it on bumper stickers and t-shirts. Nevertheless is was appropriate:
“Guns don’t kill people. People kill people.”
As I fired off my last round and glanced down at the Eagle, the quote kept repeating inside my head, blipping like a neon sign. And at that moment, another thought occurred to me: If I don’t chamber a round, aim, and pull the trigger, this hand-held cannon is nothing more than a benign piece of metal.
It was then that I realized that this cheesy slogan applied to another, parallel concept in the lives of many us:
Destructive habits. Addictions. The cycle of repeated sin.
Here’s how:
I can’t tell you how many people I have met and spoken to over the last few years who have some sort of dealing with habitual vice. Whether it is porn, substance abuse, or some other compulsion, addiction is a virtual epidemic in western culture today. A parade of TV shows, radio programs, books, blogs, websites, and movements are dedicated to dealing with this issue because it is such a common dilemma.
And for every individual story I hear—whether face to face or in the media—there is usually a relapse scenario associated with the person in question. It seems many of us are still searching for a way to solve the addiction riddle, many times to no avail.
I believe the reason for this is because most fail to acknowledge that addiction, while deadly, is just a symptom of a deeper spiritual sickness. In other words, the habit itself is not the problem, but rather the problem lies further beneath the surface.
I don’t want to trivialize anyone’s particular situation with the words that follow. I understand how difficult addictions can be. And I am not a licensed counselor, pastor, or doctor, so I am not making any sort of professional diagnosis here.
However, I firmly believe (from my own battles with deadly habits, along with countless encounters with others who have had problems in this area) the following: except in extreme cases of chemical dependency, most stay in their cycles of destruction because they cannot forgive themselves, and thus cannot find the forgiveness of God.
Here is what I mean: We feel guilty when we give in. Then we believe we are unforgivable and unlovable. Because of this, we give in to hopelessness, which keeps us repeating the same routine. These habits, therefore, are like guns…and when we continue to load the chamber with the ammo of shame and hopelessness the habits are bound to continue to be deadly.
But the truth is, vices are have little power in and of themselves without these bullets.
And the fact is, no matter what you are caught up in, you are not alone. There are probably many people around you who are dealing with similar issues, even if you don’t know it. And many times, the most difficult part of breaking these cycles is not in saying “no” to our demons, but in letting ourselves off the hook. This is where another, opposite, but equally powerful concept comes into play:
Repentance.
When we repent, we aren’t just saying, “I won’t do that again.” It is much deeper than simply promising to resist. It is first and foremost an acknowledgement of your own humanity, your own propensity to fall short. This admittance, while humbling, is also nothing short of liberating. When you realize you fell not because you are worthless or a failure, but because you are genetically prone to rebellion, you also begin to realize that you cannot conquer your vices by your own strength. And in this sense, we are all “addicts” in so far as we are all addicted to rebellion against our creator, and we will all “relapse” into sin again at some point.
Isn’t it freeing to know that we are all in the same boat? That, in and of itself, should begin to loosen the grips of destructive habits on your soul.
Upon internalizing these truths, it is then possible to forgive yourself, to let go of shame, and then truly rest in God’s forgiveness. And when we rest in God’s forgiveness, his Spirit enters us, and gives us His power—supernaturally—to say “no.”
This is, as Aslan proclaimed in The Chronicles of Narnia, “The Deep Magic.” It is beyond human comprehension, or logic, to explain the power that God has over our weaknesses through forgiveness.
Understand that repentance is the great disarmer to your vices. When loaded into the chamber of the sinful habits of our past, it transforms seemingly dangerous weapons into cartoon pistols which shoot nothing but paper signs which read, “bang!”
When you repent, you invite God’s spirit into the situation. He gives you the power to say “no.” Repentance, then, is a decision that is backed the almighty himself, who then enters our hearts and transforms our desires. But this cannot happen if we do not first learn to forgive ourselves.
If you can forgive yourself, I believe it is possible to heal from any habit.
So the next time you see a gun—or better yet, some dude in the midwest wearing a “Guns don’t kill people…” shirt, remember this:
Addictions don’t kill people. People kill themselves when they fail to forgive themselves then repent.
As a man, there are a few things in this world I refuse to accept. For example:
*I cannot accept that ice dancing is a legitimate olympic sport.
*I cannot accept Yorkie Terriors. They are not dogs. They are gerbils.
*I cannot accept that yellow lights mean that red is soon to follow. Green means go. Yellow means go faster. The evidence of this flawed philosophy can be found on my most recent $378.00 ticket, which I received from the state of California, complete with photo, shot by an automated camera at an intersection six blocks from my house.
*I cannot accept the three Star Wars prequels. Duh. Or Michael Bay’s film renditions of my favorite childhood cartoon, Transformers. Duh, again.
*I cannot accept the fact that Buffalo Wild Wings is bad for me. How can something that tastes so right be so wrong? The nutrition information must be lying–there is no way that each wing has like seventy grams of fat. It’s just chicken meat and sauce!
*I cannot accept the fact that I must consult the manual when building IKEA furni. Dude, it’s IKEA. A three-year-old CHILD can put those things together. I do, however, acknowledge that I have several bookshelves, side tables, and dressers in my home with backward legs and upside-down handles, THROUGH NO FAULT OF MY OWN.
*I cannot accept Steak without A-1.
*I cannot accept a male who drives a Jetta. Especially a white Jetta.
Whenever I am asked by the universe to swallow any of the above, I go into a shutdown mechanism, not unlike the red ring of death on an Xbox 360. And just like a 360 isn’t supposed to be bumped while running, I was not programmed to comprehend or accept the above. It’s just not in me.
And on that note, I would say acceptance in general is something I “struggle” with.* To be honest, I have a hard time bowing to the fact that there are certain things in life that are out of my control. These are things like growing old, or having to put my needs second in order to be a good husband.
What I have discovered, though, is that my level of peace is directly proportional to my level of acceptance. And likewise, my anxiety is fatally linked to my battles against my own circumstances.
I have found that without acceptance, the walk of faith becomes less like a joyous stroll on an open road, and more like heavy steps through waist-deep sewage. And I think I am not alone in this. It seems like many of us have a hard time with this concept. Some cases in point (yes, another list):
*We cannot accept the choices we have made, so we carry guilt like an anvil.
*We cannot accept our circumstances, so we desperately strive to create new ones, putting pressure on ourselves to find our dream jobs, dream spouses, dream homes.
*We cannot accept our very selves–our bodies, our skill sets, our gifting–so we battle with envious feelings toward those around us. Or we concoct exaggerated online personas to compensate.
But what if God has us right where he wants us in every way?
If you can learn to accept who you are, where you are, and what you have done, you will find that life will fall right into place. Maybe the bad decisions you made in the past are the key to someone else’s healing. Maybe the job that you despise is actually training for something greater on the horizon. Maybe you are meant to be single right now, because you aren’t yet ready for the person God has for you.
If you can learn to accept everything–every detail of your circumstance–and stop fighting against your current situation, you will find a new, magical place of contentment. After all, it’s safe to assume God must know what He is doing. He made you didn’t He?
Remember…not my will, but thy will.
If you can accept, you can trust. If you can trust, you can have faith. In having faith that God knows what He is doing you will find that when you look in the mirror you will see someone who is not fatally flawed, but uniquely designed. And in viewing life through this lens you will be less apt to compare your biceps, stature, spouse, car, or guitar playing abilities to someone else’s.
You will then see that any circumstance in your life, while not necessarily perfect, is absolutely ok.
And in that, self-esteem, confidence, and peace is sure to follow.
*”Struggle” is a stupid word that is a soft, delicate way of saying you blew it. It was coined, no doubt, by someone who was very afraid of offending his fellow believers. Let’s face it: When someone says they are “struggling” it usually means there is very little resistance or battle taking place. We should replace the word “struggle” with a more honest phrase like “blatantly defiling and desecrating myself with.” For example: I am struggling with pornography. For these reasons, If I ever use the word “struggle” I always make sure it is in quotes, so you know my use of the word is at least moderately ironic. Instead of the word “struggle” let’s be men about it. Let’s just admit we screwed up, repent, and move on. Otherwise, we are just making allowances for more “struggles” in the very near future.
We all know the passage in the Bible in which Jesus tells the Pharisees the greatest commandment…
“‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.” (Matthew 22:37-40 NIV)
I have personally read this passage about 9.36 million times, and each time I have given most of my attention to the first part. You know, the loving God part. I usually just skim the second part, primarily because I figure that following this command will be easy if I just nail the first half of the passage. This has always been my interpretation, if I am 100% honest.
However, I have learned recently that obeying the second greatest commandment is perhaps the most difficult task in the world, and I have been petitioning God to reconsider it. My thinking is this: I am pretty sure Jesus would revoke this commandment if he was forced to live next door to my neighbor.*
His name is Chuck. And I think God planted him next door to me to prove, among other things, that my Bible interpretation skills are pathetic.
The day Chuck moved next door is one which will live in infamy for the Schwab family. On that evening several years ago we were eating dinner, minding our own business. Then, out of nowhere, we heard a wretched, painfully annoying sound coming from the street in front of our house. It sounded as if a chainsaw, a thousand angry bees, and a weed wacker were all thrown into a blender and mixed on the “frappe’” setting. The sound startled me, and I almost choked on my dinner. Annoyed and confused, I ran into the street to find the source of the commotion and put a stop to it.
And there he was, my new neighbor. In all his splendor and glory. He wore Costco board shorts, a wife-beater, and had a gigantic Coors Light (in a koozie) at his feet. In his hands was a large remote control, with which he was driving an RC Car. He controlled his little vehicle with exaggerated twists of his arms, bending his knees for emphasis, like a DJ for a nu-metal band.
“Howdy neighbor!” He shouted to me without taking his eyes off the zipping, mini 4 x 4. I waved, trying to be polite, but unable to hide my grimace. Here, before me, was a forty-year-old man driving an RC car. This could not be a good omen.
And sure enough, a series of events over the next several weeks confirmed my suspicion that Chuck was, without a doubt, the neighbor from the deepest layer of the fiery pit.
First, there was the 4th of July, his first holiday in the community. To celebrate/assert his dominion, he proceeded to cone-off the whole cul-de-sac (as in, keep the residents from parking in the spots reserved for them near their own homes) so he could clear space to light illegal fireworks.** He also decided the optimal spot to light said fireworks was six feet outside my back door. And each time one of his mortar blasts went off, my dog shot explosive diarrhea on the carpet, then went into convulsions. He did this while driving his RC car, of course.*** When my wife and I asked him (politely) to move his operation, he moved it all of ten feet. At this point we just assumed he wasn’t very good at math, avoided any further drama, and decided to take our dog to a relative’s house for the evening.
A few days later, I found a threatening letter on my car (which was legally parked in a spot near our house), stating I would be towed if I did not move it into my garage immediately. After some detective work, we (my wife and I) discovered that our HOA did not, in fact, write this letter, but rather Chuck did, simply because he wanted my parking spot. I do not lie. We confronted him, but he flatly denied the whole thing, citing a conspiracy by the housing board to frame him. After doing further research, I learned that I was not the first victim of Chuck’s “HOA letter” in the neighborhood. In fact, he had targeted several other cars in the community. At this point, alarm bells were ringing.
A few weeks later we noticed new landscaping in Chuck’s front lawn, highlighted by a couple hundred large stones (which looked expensive). These stones had no business being in his lawn, and frankly, they looked ridiculous. While pulling out of our garage one afternoon he was standing in the street (Doing what? You guessed it! Driving his RC car!). Before we could escape his attention, he began bragging–with a straight face–that he stole them from the lawn of a millionaire who lives in one of the affluent communities nearby. We smiled awkwardly, rolled up the car window, and pulled away. Silence ensued between my wife and I as we drove. And as we did, we both though the same thing: No way this guy is for real.
Seriously, I had never met–let alone lived next door to–anyone like him. I thought people like him only existed on Jerry Springer. I thought he was a fictional being, like Dungeons and Dragons card traders or Miley Cyrus fans.
About a month later he brought a new dog home from the pound. It was a vicious, untamed mongrel, like something out of Ghostbusters. Chuck had to muzzle it to keep it from attacking other dogs. Of course, one day while walking our own dog, Chuck’s dog jumped out of the bushes and ATTACKED ours. As in, it bit our dog in the FACE. A canine death battle would have ensued had my wife not yanked with all her might and hoisted our own animal into her arms. Then, after the fact, Chuck came around the corner to corral his monster. He was barely able to restrain it. The thing snarled and chomped and sprayed beast drool into the atmosphere as he dragged it away. He did not apologize. He said, “Whoops, Chopper. You be nice.” I was too shocked to even respond to the guy. After the fact , while cleaning our dog’s wounds, I fantasized about smashing his RC car with a sledge hammer.
Then, finally, there was the incident which forever solidified Chuck’s label in our mind’s as not only someone who is difficult to live next door to, but as someone who should be avoided at all costs: The long and short of the story is as follows: 1. Chuck gets drunk. 2. Chuck removes his cable box from the TV in his garage and hides it in his bedroom closet. 3. While still drunk, Chuck forgets he moved his cable box, calls the police, and reports his cable box stolen. 4. Still, still drunk, he knocks on each door on our street, asking if anyone had spotted the mysterious cable box thief. He tells us to be on the lookout and to shut our garage door. 5. Chuck then retires to his house for the evening. Threats and curses can be heard emanating from his bedroom, directed towards the phantom burglar, for the thirty minutes prior to his passing out. 6. The next day, he finds his cable box right where he left it and shows no signs of embarrassment as he knocks on our door and tells us we can sleep easier, because the thief has been identified.
To say Chuck is an awful neighbor would be the understatement of the year, if not decade. And his mere presence in my proximity has highlighted something about the second commandment to me that I had previously not considered:
It is freaking tough to love your neighbor when he has no consideration for your feelings, needs, or human rights. In fact, keeping the second greatest commandment is next to impossible. Even if the command read, “Do not perform a rear naked choke on your neighbor” I would have a tough time obeying, at least when it comes to Chuck.
Which leads me to the question, Why did Jesus give us a command that is so difficult to keep?
I have thought and prayed long and hard about this one. I have come at it from every angle and these are my conclusions:
Jesus knew that each one of us would be wronged by other people, and plenty of times throughout our lifetimes. He also knew that our natural, gut reaction as fallen humans would be to seek retribution, justice, or retaliation when we are wronged by another. We want to react, we want to do something when people infringe upon us.
He created us to be individuals of action. It’s in our programming, our DNA, to do something about it.
For example, it would be really, really satisfying to shoot a cannon ball through Chuck’s living room window at 3 AM on a Tuesday. It takes a lot of energy to restrain myself from doing this, mostly because it is the most awesome idea ever.
But notice the commandment doesn’t say “Restrain yourself when your neighbor wrongs you.” That is not what God asks us to do. He tells us to love our neighbor, period, as we would love ourselves, in all circumstances.
I believe he commands this because, above all else, love is an action. Again, since we are created to act and react, to be creatures of motion and response, he tells us what to do about it. We were not created to sit passively. And this is the reason why doing nothing when we are infringed upon is actually the hardest thing in the world.
That’s not all. By telling us act in love, he is actually telling us to do the very thing that is the opposite of what is natural, expected, and deserved. He is asking us to be a source of confusion to those around us. And in so doing, he is drawing attention to Himself.
I think that is pretty cool.
By actively seeking to love, even when the person does not deserve it, we are engaging in a momentum-shifting, nature-altering event. We are killing our own sinful wills, and allowing God’s spirit to take control of our arms, legs, feet, face, and tongues. We are, in essence, transacting an event that makes no logical sense, which can only be attributed and explained as supernatural.
Love given when it is not deserved is baffling. Dumbfounding, confusing. And I like the idea of baffling someone in the name of something supernatural.
For many months, I contemplated confronting Chuck, knowing that if I did it would only evoke defensiveness, and most likely more shenanigans towards my family on his part. So then I took to avoidance. Whenever I saw him, I just looked at the ground. But it was only recently that I began treating him like a normal neighbor…saying hello, being kind, using the attitude of love as my guide, even when I didn’t “feel” like it.
Every time I say “hello” to him I can see the confusion in his eyes. Though he baffled me with his antics, I think I baffle him even more when I respond with kindness.
And I think that’s they way Jesus wants it.
*Yes, I know God doesn’t reconsider commands. And I also know that He already is fully aware of my neighbor. While not theologically accurate, these statements are meant for comedic effect. You know, like LOL, haha, ROTFL?
**Sadly, in California the only fireworks that are legal are sparklers, snakes, firecrackers, and cones. This is reason #147 why California is overrated.
***Of course. Obviously. Duh.
What makes you more frustrated than anything else?
Is it injustice? Ignorance? Ke$ha?
While you think about it, I would like to tell you about something that happened to me recently that left me pretty upset.
The scene was set in Los Angeles. It was my wfie’s brithday, and we were visiting the Griffith Park Observatory. I have many fond memories of the GPO from my childhood, but I had not visited it for many years. And this was my wife’s first visit. So, needless to say, we were both excited to spend the evening there, going to planetarium shows, learning interesting factoids about heavenly bodies, and enjoying the view–the greatest view in southern California, I might add.
The only problem is that we planned our trip on a Sunday. And, to our dismay, we discovered the entire population of the western hemisphere likes to visit that place on Sundays in late August. And there are exactly nine spots TOTAL in the GPO parking lot. The rest is street parking down a windy, long, steep road. On that day, the line of parked cars extended nearly a mile down the hill.
A few things about me: I don’t like walking up hills if I don’t have to. And I like parking as close as possible, whenever possible. So, I decided to take my chances with the lot. Immediately, I caught sight of a car with its reverse lights on. I raced to position and set my blinker, only to find I was too late. This happened at least forty-seven times over the next twenty minutes. Several times I even got brutally snaked by other drivers. My wife and I were soon at the ends of ourselves, fuming, contemplating giving up and going home.
But then the shrouded heavens parted and the spirit of a dove descended from the clouds. It fluttered to a tiny, empty parking spot between two cars on the curb leading into the observatory grounds. A catholic monk choir began echoing hymns all around us, and a beam of sunlight illuminated this small expanse of curb. Then, my name was spelled by butterflies hovering above this sacred, holy spot. It was as if God himself had written my name on this parking place before the foundations of the earth…
Suddenly, all was well inside the Schwabmobile. My wife and I cackled and howled with glee as I hit the gas, burned out, and floored it–quarter-mile dragster style–to the parking place. Bad mood? What bad mood? We had found victory!
After 937 moves forward and reverse, I successfully parrallel parked in the tiny spot. We grabbed our things and headed off to fun…planetary orbits and moon craters and mars rovers and wormholes. But as we began walking a teeny, tiny voice said something, barely audible, in my head:
Are you sure you want to leave your car on that red curb?
Yeah, ok, so the curb was red. And red curbs usually mean its illegal to park, no matter what. But there was a sign posted that said “No parking weekdays 8-5 P.M.” It was Sunday, which meant that I was in the clear. Besides, like I said, there was a line of cars parked against the red curb that stretched to the horizon. So, I thought to myself, there is no way a cop is going to ticket everyone. And there is no way all these people are wrong.
I thought it was impossible to get a ticket. I would have bet my life savings, my firstborn, and my wife’s spleen on it.
So, we made our way to the observatory and had a blast, not giving the parking siutation a second thought. And when we were finished we left satisfied, feeling like our day had been spent creating indelible memories. As we walked back to the car, peace like a river flowed through our beings–so much so that I was completely unprepared for what was about to take place. I was like a calm cow, grazing peacefully on top of train tracks, unaware of the approaching train engine in the distance.
But there it was–bright enough to see, even in the moonlight:
An $82.00 parking ticket from the city of Los Angeles.
Now, truth be told, I am a pretty patient guy. I don’t really have a strong temper, and I rarely even raise my voice in frustration. With that in mind, trust me when I say that there, in that moment, I would have given anything to have a few, heated words with the public servant who had placed that abomination under my wiper blade. Better yet, the people who recently decided to triple parking ticket fees in my home state. I snatched the ticket in my hand and contemplated tearing it up, but then, my conscience kicked in: C’mon, Schwab, remember who you are and who you claim to be. Control yourself…
For much of the ride home there was a battle taking place inside of me. On one hand, I felt completely justified in being angry. After all, that ticket was such a scam on so many levels. But on the other hand there was this lingering question: Is it wrong for me, as a person of faith, to feel angry when there is a good reason to?
I have heard many Christians over the years say the answer is, absolutely, 100%, no. And I know many that believe simply having frustrated emotions is a sinful act. Is this realistic, though? Does God really expect us to be emotionally vacant and stoic? What does the Bible say about it?
After doing a bit of study, I noticed that God is far from silent about his feelings about anger. My first conclusion was the most obvious one: acting out in violence, rage, or retribution in response to anger is nearly always wrong and only justifiable in scipture in extreme circumstances. Then, as I looked a little deeper, I started getting some answers to my specific question, which relates to the emotion of anger. Here is what I learned:
We are to be patient in every circumstance. We are to look inwardly and take responsibility for our emotions when they come. We are to always be in control of our reactions. I found no real exceptions to the above, save cases of purely righteous indignation, which is a rarity. These are all points about anger that most of us are familiar with.
But one thing I discovered which actually surprised me was this: God seems to anticipate that we will all get angry. In other words, it’s not the emotion of anger hat God warns us against, but how we respond to the emotion that matters. He knows that we will get upset along the way, and he doesn’t expect us to shut off our feelings. But he also assumes each and every one of us has the capacity to control ourselves in any and all situations.
Case in point: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires (James 1:19-20)
It’s not angry emotion that is wrong, but reactions to angry emotion. If you have been injured by someone else, friend, foe, or otherwise, it is not your responsibility to silence your feelings. As Christians, God does not expect us to be emotional rocks. However, it is our responsibilities to both control our reactions and resolve the situation with patience. If you are in the moment, no matter how much you feel justified in your temper flares, you have no right to explode. What God requires is for us to channel our frustrations properly.
For example, while the harbingers of death at the state of California got my $82.00, their eternally condemnable parking laws have inspired this blog.
Finally, I have discovered an exercise that works well if you are becoming frustrated. If you feel your judgment is clouding when strong emotions come over you, you must first walk it off. Get away from people for ten or fifteen minutes. Do not try to resolve the situation while your feelings are flared.
Then, as you are in solitude, pray that God meets you inside your anger. This takes discipline, but it works. When you are calm again, speak openly and honestly to the other individual involved, emphasizing how their actions or the circumstance made you feel without attacking back. In response, their defenses shoud lower as well, if they are reasonable. If they do not, state your case and move on, knowing you did your best. But before you do, make sure you listen patiently, as well. Handling yourself in this way displays the type of character that is expected of each of us as believers…
If you are upset not at a tangible person, but a situation, circumstance, entity, organization, clothing brand, or Ke$ha, your interaction may change while the principles stay the same.
It’s not wrong to get mad. Just don’t react while you are.
Some scriptues for additional study:
In your anger do not sin. Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold (Ephesians 4:26).
Man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires (James 1:20).
An angry man stirs up dissension, and a hot-tempered one commits many sins (Proverbs 29:22).
The acts of the sinful nature are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions (Galatians 5:19-20).
But now you must rid yourselves of all such things as these: anger, rage, malice, slander, and filthy language from your lips (Colossians 3:8).
I’m not going to lie. I was a serious force in little league baseball in fourth grade. In my first year I made the all-star team, and had the best batting average on my team. And when the season concluded (with a decent all-star game performance, I might add), I was poised–in my own mind, at least–for a serious run at a major league career.
Until…
One afternoon during the summer after that first season, my dad and I were playing catch in the back yard, like we had countless times before. But early in our sesh, as I threw the ball to my dad, I became distracted by my dog, which was barking wildly at a snake or some other small creature in the grass. I turned my head to see what going on as the ball was in mid-air, travling to him. I kept investigating my dog for a moment, assuming that my dad would wait until I made eye contact with him again before he threw the ball back to me. But then I heard my name being shouted, and as I turned back to him, the ball was already in the air. I raised my glove…
But it was too late.
Then, I heard an earth-pummeling, skull-crunching, galaxy-devastating, nuclear-blast-of-an- explosion on the upper right region/area/locale of my face. More specifically, the baseball had collided with my right eye, and the world had gone black. It was .23 seconds later that I set the US decibel record for loudest blood-curdling wail by a human.
Getting hit by a baseball in the eye–even a lightly thrown one–is sort of indescribable. Imagine the sound of a wrecking ball smashing into a steel building, combined with the sound of an airplane engine being amplified through the PA system at Yankee stadium inside your head at the same instant. Then, imagine your head sitting between a head-on collision of two half-ton pickups who are speeding at one another at eighty-eight miles per hour.
That’s right, eighty-eight miles per hour.
Ok, I exaggerate. But not by much. It truly sucked, and it was quite painful.
As I wailed and scared the living excrement out of every living human within three counties, my dad rushed me into the house to get some ice. But instead, he decided to grab a hunk of raw meat from the freezer and slap it on the side of my face. This sent aftershocks of the pain radiating down the whole right side of my body. I let out another scream as he did so.
My eye swelled shut in a matter of seconds. The pain would not subside for hours. It would be two weeks before the enormous shiner was completely gone.
Though the damage to my face was considerable, the greater damage was done to my baseball mojo. It took me over a month to work up the courage to even pick up my mitt after that.
When my dad finally convinced me to get back on the field, I was more than a little gunshy. We started with batting practice. When he threw the first pitch I flew backwards, launching myself five feet from the plate to avoid the ball. All I could hear in my head was that horrendous crunching sound, and all I could see was the flash when the lights when out.
This was bad. Real bad. Baseball season was approaching. I was moving up to a higher league where everything would be faster and harder than before. All I could see in my future was the potential for another smash in the face…
How was I going to make it through the season, let alone play well?
We all have disappointing experiences in our pasts. Accidents, mistakes, poor decisions, mean acts from mean people to nice ones. And as we look to the what’s ahead, the voices from the past show up and threaten our perspective about the future, causing fear, doubt, and anxiety. They say things like these:
What if I shouldn’t have broken up with him/her?
What if we lose this house because we got an interest-only loan?
What if the person I marry ends up treating me bad, just like my parents did?
What if that dude I pantsed in junior high finds out where I live?
What if I should have been a carpenter instead of a Christian hip-hop artist?
What if I paid too much for my car insurance?
What if, by repeatedly avoiding the census takers at my door I am actually placing myself on a secret FBI list that will one day result in my being sent up the river to a special prison where they force us to watch only the Bravo network and more specifically the real housewives of Orange County, New Jersey, Atlanta, and New York on infinte repeat?
What if God doesn’t protect me in the future?
And as fear lays itself on thick, our attempts to alleviate our worry as a result are strained and difficult. Because bad things have happened in the past, more bad things must be coming. This hinders our peace, as well as our joy in the present. We stop living because our histories are haunting us, and we will do anything to avoid more pain.
But consider this, if you are dealing with anxiety about what lies ahead:
Fear of the future usually comes from an incorrect view of the past.
Remember, we all make stupid decisions. Disappointments are a part of life. Maybe we trusted the wrong person and get burned. Maybe a family member treated us poorly when we were growing up. Or perhaps we thought there wouldn’t be a cop looming under that overpass while we were doing 95. We let the big one get away. We decided to pursue Christian hip-hop instead of carpentry. But does any of this really mean our future will look the same as our past? Are we doomed to repeat history?
No. We are not.
As it turns out, we are in complete control of our pasts. Unfortunately, we can’t change it, but we can use it in any way we please. We can either use it to justify the fear of the future, or we can use it as a learning tool. Ironically, If we see the past as a reason to be afraid, we are more likely to make similar mistakes. This is a victim-like response that is passive and counter-productive. But if we choose to learn we are making a choice to take action. And in this way a troubled past becomes an ally, an insurance policy which will actually give us the best chance for a different future.
To learn from the past is to grow in faith and wisdom.
The conclusion? You need not worry. The past does not dictate the future. And wisdom gained from learning from past experiences actually makes it is easier to trust God with our futures. A wise man learns from both his missteps and his bad experiences to become a more righteous person.
This discussion brings a famous poem to mind. Many of you have heard this before, but now may be a good time for a refresher:
I was regretting the past
and fearing the future.
Suddenly my Lord was speaking:
“My name is I AM”
He paused.
I waited. He continued,
“When you live in the past
with its mistakes and regrets,
it is hard. I am not there.
My name is not I WAS.
When you live in the future,
with its problems and fears,
it is hard. I am not there.
My name is not I WILL BE.
When you live in this moment
it is not hard. I am here,
My name is I AM.”
-Helen Mallicoat
Incidentally, I played poorly for the first part of that baseball season, because I couldn’t get that image of being blasted in the eye out my head. It took some serious soul-searching, but I finally forced myself to stay in the batters box one game about half way through our schedule. And wouldn’t you know it? I went 3-4 that game with two doubles and three RBIs. But it wasn’t until I convinced myself that the past didn’t have to be the future that I was able to play up to my capabilities.
I was watching one of my all-time favorite films the other day (High Fidelity) and there was a scene that hit me hard.* It was the scene when, in the midst of his life spiraling into chaos, the main protagonist decides to reorganize his record collection.
Rob (played by John Cusack), having just broken up with his longtime girlfriend, begins to put these thousands of vinyl records not in alphabetical or chronological order, but in autobiographical order. When asked by one of his friends why he was doing this, he simply replied because it was…comforting.
I pushed stop on the film immediately. For some reason, the idea of reorganizing my music did sound very comforting to me at that moment. Not because my life was in any way chaotic, or anything remotely tragic had happened, but, to be honest, I wanted to take on this project because I was…bored.
So I started taking cds off the shelves in my office and going through each one, updating my digital archive in iTunes. And as I did, something curious began to happen…
Now, before I go further I need to tell you a few things about my music collecting philosophy. First, I am not the typical music snob that acquires records just because someone tells me this band or that record is cool to own. In my opinion those types are not music fans, but people who like using music a means to sound intelligent and elitist. No, I am the type of music snob that only listens to music that I connect with deeply. I am what you would call an emotional music purist. I like what I like, and I have an intense personal connection with the music I choose to acquire. I prefer quality over quantity. What this means is that not only do I have a more difficult time finding music I love than most people, but I have a smaller collection because of it.
This also means I am prone to having droughts where I do not find records I love for weeks, or even months, at a time. And this particular chapter in my life has been one of the most dry yet. Perhaps my subconscious was pushing me to the great music reorganization of 2010 for this reason.
Now, if you know anything about me you know that I don’t do many things half-way. If I am into something I am really into it. And if I decide I am passionate about an activity I give it my all, or I don’t do it at all.
My wife calls this obsession.
I call it being awesome.
So, naturally, about three hours into my reorganization, I began shutting myself off from the rest of the natural world. I quickly forgot about things like food, water, and human contact in my catharsis. Stacks of cds surrounded me in all directions as my mind raced and catalogued. I was creating a master digital archive on my external hard drive so that in the event of loss, crash, or natural disaster I would have all of my music backed up…every last song, every last note. The more seconds passed, the more I became consumed and convinced that I was partaking on a mission of utmost significance.
It was about this time my wife asked me if I was feeling ok. Apparently, she had been trying to speak to me for the better part of an hour and I had been ignoring her. I just looked at her like she, not I, was the one who was nuts. Frustrated and confused, she asked me a second question–one that proved to be profound:
“Why are you doing this?” she asked.
I didn’t have an answer immediately. I didn’t say anything, in fact. Instead, I just kept pouring myself completely into the task before me. So she left me to my compulsion. But her words kept playing in my head.
Why AM I doing this?
That was when I found a dusty cd on the shelf that I had neither listened to nor glanced at for years, Aimee Mann’s Lost In Space. The packaging is unbelievable. And the lyrics are astounding. How had I forgotten about this one? Then I found Super Black Market Clash. It has deep cuts from my favorite band of all time, and stories behind the songs in the liner notes. Stoked!
And then the flood gates opened. I began rediscovering tons of music–genius music–that I had not delved into for ages. My reorganization quickly evolved into a listening party, a celebration of all these great creations that had been sitting next to me for years, collecting dust. It was beautiful. It was inspiring. And it was highly educational.
I felt more alive, more in love with music than I had been for as long as I can remember.
But then, all of a sudden, I heard a still, small voice in my head, speaking to me about a more profound truth:
Sometimes the key to passion doesn’t lie in finding new truths but in reminders of old ones.
And somehow the trivial activity before me had become a spiritual metaphor.
Do you ever feel bored and stale spiritually? Of course you do. We all do. Many of you reading this probably feel that way at this very moment.
Many times we think the solution to the dryness is usually to inject some sort of “new” into our routine–a Rob Bell book purchase, a visit to that happening church every one is talking about, a new small group, or a ticket to a men’s retreat. We are convinced that the key to keeping our passion alive is to continually ensure that there is enough fresh, contemporary spiritual stimuli flowing through the veins of our souls.
But rediscovering my old Clash and Quicksand records taught me something: Many times we think we need something brand new to re-awaken our first love, when perhaps all we need is a reminder. Maybe we just need to stop forgetting what we already know to be true.
Dear friends, I am not writing you a new command but an old one, which you have had since the beginning. This old command is the message you have heard. – 1 John 2:7
So, here are a few reminders that will bring life to you if you are feeling dead:
*God’s love is unconditional, and his forgiveness is larger than any crime you have ever committed.
*If you will stand up for Him before men, Jesus will stand of up for you before the father in heaven.
*Eternal life is real and available at this moment.
*The past is dead, but you are alive in faith.
*There is no greater peace to be found in life than intimacy with your creator.
I am not yet finished with my record reorganization, so I am going to get back to it. I just wanted to take a little break and give you a blog…
Do you feel just a little more alive now?
*Incidentally, as good as this movie is, the book is many times better. I guess this is true for most films based on books. But trust me, this is one book you must read, if you even remotely enjoyed the flick. Just my opinion.
