I enjoy reading stories about rites of passage. There’s something fulfilling about a person leaving behind the safety they’ve known, facing a challenging personal quest and triumphantly returning as a respected member of society. They have faced danger, survived the experience, been changed by it and as a result have crossed over the threshold into adulthood. Why are these stories so cathartic? Perhaps because our society doesn’t have any definite rites of passage. Learning to drive, getting a job, buying a house, getting married, and raising children can all be important steps in our lives, but do this things transform us into men or women? True, getting lost in the woods, searching for an animal companion, leaping face first from a tower, or hanging from hooks embedded in the skin all seem like pretty strange ways to prove someone has reached that certain level of maturity. Still, there was at least a clear way to do so. Such methods don’t make sense to us anymore, but I wonder if we really are missing out on something those practices were meant to accomplish.

In the end, I think a lot of us simply prefer stagnation. We don’t want to leave the comforts of childhood to face real danger on our own. We don’t want to prove ourselves because it’s too much effort. We don’t want to be tested in case we discover that we’re failures, even though by not trying we’ve automatically become so. I find myself tempted to fall into the Peter Pan syndrome, not wanting to grow up, face difficulties, make sacrifices, and accept responsibility. I’m not saying we shouldn’t find joy in the little things of life. I truly admire those who find satisfaction in simplicity and I hope to follow their patterns. We should be thankful in all circumstances. But I must be on guard not to find contentment in the mundane. Have I resolved to build sandcastles on the shores of experience when an entire ocean awaits for me to explore? Am I so afraid of leaving behind what is comfortable that I’ve chosen a life of spiritual paralysis? These are things I must ask myself.

Thankfully, God tests us, whether we like it or not. I often remind myself that everything is a test. In a rather extreme example, God had Abraham prove his faithfulness by offering the one thing he cared about most, his only son. And not just any only son, but the one God had promised Abraham even though he and his wife we far beyond child-bearing years. Sure, God already knew the outcome beforehand, but I wonder what effect the experience had on Abraham and his son Isaac (who, I believe, was a young man at that point). And what an encouragement that story is to us now. Unlike many tribal rites of passage, God’s method is not a one-shot deal where failure is irreversible. Instead, we are constantly being tested. Testing is a purification process, comparable to the way gold or silver are refined through fire. Remarkably, God can work even through our failures. So I hope that I will face the next challenge willingly, seeing it as an opportunity for growth, knowing that, while it may seem terrifying, the outcome far outweighs the deceptive comforts of just giving up.

Thoughts flee like fish. They seem so beautiful when one swims near me, but when I reach in to grab and pull them to the surface, refractions of memory distort my vision and they scatter. It takes a concerted effort, a serious determination on my part to actually write something worth reading.

I’ve been thinking about writing a lot. It’s something I want to do, something I need to do. This might mean that I’ll stop posting here for a while, save the occasional “this is what’s happening in my life” posts. Then again, it could mean I’ll be writing more posts. Hard to tell. I’ve been saying it for a long time, but I really, really need to write. Here’s a few random, scattered thoughts that I’ve brought up before they slipped out of my hands back into the watery depths.

I visited some mud caves in Ocotillo with a few friends on Saturday. They were inspiring (the caves I mean, though the friends weren’t half bad either). I’d really like to do more cave exploring in the future. It’s a lot of fun and I feel that I am at a place where my personal fitness would not be a hindrance to exploring the more frequented caves. Plus, it’s just fun to say that I’m going out spelunking.

I celebrated my sister’s birthday and it was a good reminder of how thankful I am for her, and, as a matter of fact, for all my family.

After purposefully putting it off for a long time, I did a quick read-through of my High School Senior Year Book (not sure if all those capitals were necessary, but best to play it safe). I wouldn’t say it brought back a flood of memories and emotions, but rather that they slowly drifted in one by one, and are still returning. I’m amazed at how insightful some people were with what they had written to me, sometimes people I barely remembered. I was shocked by an encouraging note written by a girl who had committed suicide a couple years later. That event impacted me significantly, and probably always will. I thought if there was any way I could go back and somehow prevent such a tragedy from happening, I would, without a doubt. In another note, someone warned me against letting my talents go to waste. It made me reflect on how little I use my creativity now compared to how often I used it back then. I wondered why that is and how I can change it. Reading through those notes, I felt like I now understood some of those people from my past (and myself) better. I thought of how vain many of us were back then and how vain I continue to be today. And yet, I know I’ve grown a lot. I don’t know if I’m a whole new person but I’m definitely a different person from before.

For my sister’s birthday, I’d bought her a book she really wanted by Donald Miller, one of her favorite authors. In the opening, he writes about memories, how infrequently they are retained and how a friend of his deemed them so important as to write them down so as not to forget. I do think they’re important and there are few things I love more than creating really great memories with people and being able to later reflect fondly upon times gone by. And yet, I don’t believe memories are all we have, despite what some may say. Memories, even those that are lost, still effect us some way, still shape who we are and who we become. I thank God for the way He created our minds to work and I marvel that His grace remains whether we remember or forget. I think there is sometimes a beauty in forgetting. Is He not the One who chooses to remember our sins no more?

So my friend Morgan posted this recently on her blog and I really got a kick out of it. Not only do I find it humorous, but also fairly accurate social commentary. Seriously, we’re so ungrateful and we take so much for granted. We feel as if we are entitled to everything we have. I really need to keep myself in check when it comes to this.

A while back I was talking with a friend about people I’d known who had been making some poor choices in their lives. It amazed me how some people who claimed to be Christians could follow lifestyles there were anything but Christ-like. I told my friend, “I guess they just don’t live what they believe.” But he wisely corrected me, pointing out that they were living what they believed, though not what they claimed to believe. I was struck by that idea: we all live exactly what we believe. When I think about it that way, but with the critical eye fixed on my own darn self, my faith appears to be so minuscule.

If I really lived out the things I claimed to believe to their logical outcome, I have a feeling my life would be drastically different from the one I’m now living. So what can I do? The only thing I know to do: go humbly before God, thanking Him for His grace and pleading for the transformation of this doubting heart. Only He can plant the seeds of hope and cause faith to sprout from the rocky grounds of unbelief. Only He can give me victory over the shortcomings of my sinful flesh so that heart, mind, body, and soul all work in unison toward the completeness that only Christ can offer.

For starters, in case you hadn’t yet heard I’m now a full-time employee at Vicon: House of Moves, where I was previously working as an independent contractor. It’s fairly exciting for me considering that I’ve been working in the motion capture industry for around 3 years now as a contractor and I’m now going to be hired on as an employee for the first time.

Also, I’ve attended two churches up in LA so far. The first was a smaller (but nice) church called The Vineyard in West LA, the other one was a big, fancy, modern Presbyterian church in Bel Air. I enjoyed some things about both of them and I’ll likely visit them both again at some point, but I’m still largely undecided and will, for lack of a better phrase, continue the hunt.

It’s been quite the experience having to make so many new decisions on my own, things like picking a health care program, choosing a 401k plan, and finding a new church to attend regularly. It’s not like I don’t have solid people to go to for good advice or that I regret having to make these decisions (they’re really quite a privileged and an opportunity), it’s just that these are things I hadn’t given much thought to before, things I just put off as being something that would happen “some day in the future.” It’s a strange feeling when “some day in the future” becomes today and I’m suddenly faced with a good deal more personal responsibility. I realize it’s all part of the whole growing up experience, it’s just not something I find myself naturally easing into. Still, I’m alright with that. I don’t expect life to be perfectly comfortable ride. I know there will be bumps in the road and, in all honesty, I expect the hardest bumps are yet to come.

On the other hand, it’s a little sad watching the last traces of childhood or even the remnants of young adulthood being swept away. I look back and recall with fondness when life was simpler. I realize I shouldn’t long for the unattainable past, but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen from time to time. True, all the pure simplicity of life hasn’t departed quite yet, but it’s going to take hard, dedicate effort to retain it and even win a little back. So here’s to pressing forward and doing my best not to glance back and suffer the fate of Lot’s wife; albeit a tasty salt-lick for the animals but entirely useless and immobile otherwise.

Having just written about success, I’d like to also look at greatness, since I think they tend to go hand-in-hand.

Much like success, greatness is something you can find a lot of opinions on. As a matter of fact, even the little tab of paper attached to this morning’s tea had something to say about greatness. Though I’m not sure if it’s a motto I’d live by, I found it interesting and thoughtful at the least:

“Feel great, act great, and approve of yourself.”

When I think of personal greatness, it usually involves something huge, grandiose and very recognizable. Like writing a popular book that deeply affects those who read it, saving a village from starvation, winning a race, curing a disease, leading thousands to salvation, painting a masterpiece, curing a disease, standing alone against a wicked government, traveling to the moon, that kind of thing. But I’ve got a sneaky suspicion that I’ve been looking at it all wrong.

I was struck with reflective wonder when I read this quote by Mother Teresa in a book titled, Becoming the Answer to Our Prayers:

“We can do no great things, only small things with great love.

It is not how much you do but how much love you put into doing it.”

In a magazine called Consp!re (it’s published by the same people that wrote the book I just mentioned) I read an article about a family who had committed their whole lives to serving just one person. It got me thinking about what true greatness is and how God might view greatness. In my thoughts of greatness, the focus is often on me more than the other people who would benefit from whatever great thing I did. But greatness should really be about others. Do I value people so much that I’d be willing to give my whole life to help a single person, even if it involved giving up some of my own comforts and even if that person was a very difficult individual to help?

Am I willing to do the small things, the needful things, the things that might not give me any honor or recognition at all, things that the world hardly bats an eye at? Things like sweeping a dirty orphanage floor, helping a stranger move, being the first person to show up at church just to wipe down the tables, giving someone a ride home, making a lunch for someone else, quietly praying daily for one in need, singing songs and reading books to your children, or taking the time to listen to a person who just needs someone to talk with; greatness can be found in such things as these. I pray that my eyes will be opened to see that not all greatness is accompanied by loud bells and flashing lights, most of it is done quietly and discreetly. It may be that in Heaven we will be surprised to find the most treasured things we’ve done were things we hardly noticed or remembered. Perhaps some of the most wonderful accomplisments are those that never received any praise from man, things that only our Heavenly Father sees. Such are the things I aim for.

“Success takes a moment to recognize and a lifetime to achieve”

-Me

I thought that one up while sitting at my brother’s graduation a few months back. Success is something that is often on my mind. What does it mean to be successful? How do you measure it? To be honest, it’s a topic still shrouded in mystery to me. How will I know when I have found it? Is it even something I want? If success is the opposite of failure then is a successful person simply someone who doesn’t fail? Or is it more than that? Teachers, parents, and leaders encourage us to strive for success, but we should be wary. The notion of success can sometimes be a deceptive one. People can commit their whole lives to follow the path that leads to success only look back later and realize, too late, that they’ve sacrificed all the most important things for a misconceived and unobtainable concept. Does success guarantee happiness and fulfillment? I can’t think of any passage in the Bible claiming success as God’s ultimate purpose for our lives. Like many things, it is not bad in itself, but it is something to approach with circumspection.

more to come…

A couple weekends ago I hung out at Balboa Park with my dad and little sister. In case you didn’t know, it’s a great area to visit if you’re wanting to feel more “cultured.” It’s got everything you could possibly want: theaters, gardens, fountains, architecture, people playing instruments that you’ve never seen or heard of before, kids performing magic tricks for money, a guy selling balloon animals, tourists, strange sculptures that fall under the all-encompassing category of “modern art” and, of course, museums. Lots of museums.

Since we hadn’t planned on spending any money, we visited a free museum. Being a free museum, it had a relatively small collection of art and the guards were on the old and tired side (not at all intimidating like the ones you might run into at a fancy museum). Still, even if it wasn’t the most impressive exhibit in the park, it had a few pieces worth looking at. A good portion of the museum had the kind of religious artwork that looked as if it might have come from the dark ages and probably should have stayed there. Most of that stuff with its ornate decoration, rich garments, inexplicably white people, and golden halos seems like such an inaccurate representation of what things must have actually been like in Jesus’ day that I can’t really relate to it. On the other hand, I enjoyed some of the more realistic portrayals of people, be it a portrait, a depiction of some well-known tale, or simply a scene from what everyday life looked like at that time. I especially liked one with a view of some ships at a harbor with a bunch of people on the dock going about their daily business.

Looking at those paintings got me thinking about the quote, “imitation is the greatest form of flattery.” Even some of our finest art is only a rendition, a copy of the original creation. And it made me pause in wonder to think that God might view us as His masterpieces. Art isn’t a thing of perfection, and I don’t think it needs to be, that’s not the purpose. And certainly we are not perfect. But I think, in a way, as God’s creation we are, or perhaps were, or rather one day will be. At least, everything was perfect at the beginning. But that’s the astounding part; God let his own creation become a living thing, something that could be separate from Him, something that could form itself in a way, even become imperfectly flawed. Yet, at the same time, He is still working in it, shaping and molding as He sees fit. It’s all a lot to take in, but it really is an incredible thing to think of ourselves as God’s masterpieces, maybe even His most prized collection, one that He deemed worth saving for eternity. When we look back, if indeed we shall one day be able to look back on it all, I’m sure we will be in awe at the skillful work of the Master and the special care He put into every little detail until He achieved the final result.