Delighting

“Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart” -Psalm 37:4

This verse has been sticking with me for a few days. Mainly because I think I really didn’t “get” it for so long. Conceptually understood, no problem – but actually experiencing it? Maybe not so much.

Truth be told, it’s very easy to default to delighting in lesser things. To whit:

1. Delight yourself in being right. Ah, always a temptation when dealing with issues of truth in religious matters. And while it’s important to think and believe in a clear and correct manner, it can also become an idol. The goal, instead of God, is right-ness. Very me-centric, and ultimately repellent to others.

2. Delight yourself in having your act together. Closely related to #1, but here, the main focus is ordering behavior and words to try to (vainly, I might add) achieve some sort of sanctified perfection. Doing it right, instead of delighting in the only One who can impart righteousness. Again, it becomes all about me. Ugh.

3. Delight yourself in stuff. Sometimes you want to pat yourself on the back for monastic self-denial. When that doesn’t work, it’s easy to swing over to delighting in food, drink, sex, vacations, possessions – whatever leads to immediate good feelings. This ends up making the gifts an idol, while neglecting the Giver. More self.

The fact is, our default setting is Me. Self. We’ll corrupt anything. It takes a supernatural work of God to loosen our grip from me-centered delights, and to begin to look at Him as the most delightful. Then the rest of it falls into line, and God is free to give us the desires of our heart. Because He’s our first desire.

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Connect with Steve Woodruff

Twitter: @swoodruff

Never the Right Time

“We can’t afford to have kids yet.”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to be married.”

“Can we really make that mortgage?”

“This is a tough time to launch a business.”

“I’m not sure just yet that God’s really real.”

It’s never the right time. You can’t be old enough, wise enough, financially well-off enough, informed enough, safe enough, sure enough.

People who lead, conquer, and accomplish great things are just as unready as the rest of us. They act anyway. Because, even if it seems like it’s not the right time to do a thing, there’s a right thing to do. The right timing is often shown by moving forward, not by inaction.

Fear says, “not yet.” And, by all means, carefully assess and count the cost. But realize going in that there will always be plenty of reasons to put off doing what you know, deep inside, you need to do.

Be bold and take action. It’s always the right time for that.

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Connect with Steve Woodruff

Twitter: @swoodruff

Playing the Racist Card

The word “racist” has been bandied about a whole lot in recent months, and a lot of its usage has been singularly unhealthy.

My conviction is that glibly calling people a racist is typically the sign of a weak mind – someone who refuses to work through the slog of principles, convictions, and ideas often proclaims a weak and unearned triumph by tarring the opponent with the term, “racist.” End of discussion? No. End of your credibility.

And, of course, actually being a racist is no less a sign of possessing a weak mind – and a skewed heart. When you view people through some hierarchy of worth based on external characteristics (with you on top, of course), then you don’t deserve a hearing.

If we’re going to have civil discourse as citizens of this country, let’s not fear to call a racist a racist. But, let’s be profoundly hesitant to apply that label to someone who simply disagrees with us.

Let’s take a step back and put “racism” in context. A racist can be defined as someone who believes that there is INHERENT superiority and/or inferiority to be ascribed to human beings due to racial background. It may (or may not) be a subset of xenophobia (fear or dislike of that which is different from oneself).

Racism should also be carefully differentiated from sociological generalizations – that is, fact-based observations about characteristics that mark groupings of peoples in general (but, obviously, with variations and exceptions). Comedians would be out of business without generalizations about men, women, Jews, blacks, whites, Indians, Swedes, and (of course), the French!

Just now, there’s a lot of blather going on regarding whether or not people who disagree with our President are, in fact, motivated by racism. Here’s my take: you’d better have some pretty substantive evidence that any person or grouping of persons is, in fact, “racist” in their opposition as opposed to simply exercising free speech in expressing divergent views. When prominent columnists like Maureen Dowd make this leap, they show an appalling shallowness of thought and civility. Such people have no credibility in political discourse.

By all means, let us debate and discourse vigorously and honestly. But don’t hide like a coward by dismissing those who differ from you as “racists.”

No doubt, there are racists, xenophobes, and uncharitable folks among us, and they come in all colors and from all backgrounds. But when you find it easy to write off entire groups of people opposing political and sociological agendas as “racists” (automatically), then you have fallen into the trap. You display your own xenophobia – these people are different from me (though maybe with a common skin color!), and thus they must be dismissed as lesser beings. That is just as arrogant as blatant racism. Beware.

Whether you consider yourself a superior “liberal” looking down your nose at the uncultured rubes from flyover country, or you identify yourself as a “conservative” patriot despising the coastal communists, beware of despising the “other” by taking cheap shots and self-righteously tossing out labels.

Let’s put the spotlight on principles, not derogatory slogans. Assuming the worst about someone else, or assuming your own superiority, never won an argument. Calling someone a racist or a misogynist just to score points and shut down debate is the ploy of a coward.

Just remember: if you were right, I’d agree with you (I love that statement – had to fit it in here somehow!). But in the meantime, let’s assume that we’re thinking human beings who aren’t inherently inferior to one another. And let’s talk substance instead of talking trash, and playing the racist card.

(Image credit)

UPDATE: It is quite possible for someone who is by no means a racist to get jumped on for making a racist-sounding comment (esp. a sociological generalization). This is a bludgeon used to selectively silence scientists, academics, politicians, and anyone else who dares tread the line of political correctness. Of course, the same principle applies for those with a sexism trigger-finger.

UPDATE 2: For a counter-point perspective, read this post by my friend Shannon Whitely (whom I greatly respect). And let’s have these debates, people – substantive thought and discussion, with mutual respect and readiness to listen. Hostile sound-biting isn’t going to get us anywhere…!

UPDATE 3: A voice of reason and sanity, from of all places, the NY Times: No, It’s not about Race.

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Connect with Steve Woodruff

Twitter: @swoodruff

A Keeper

One of my sons (who played soccer) has a T-shirt which says, “I’m a Keeper.” Yes, of course there’s a double-entendre, one relating to his position on the soccer field, and the other rooted in wishful thinking (well, actually, he is a keeper, but that’s another story…)

It’s not like I haven’t read Psalm 121 about a thousand times, but today I finally noticed how often, in that little passage, God is depicted as the Keeper of his people. “He who keeps you…He who keeps Israel…The Lord is your keeper…He will keep your soul.”

The sense is that God, in relation to His children, is like a shepherd, a guard, a watchman – a never-sleeping, ever-vigilant, always-aware protector. Which utterly blows up any notion of God as some distant, uninvolved, uncaring spirit-thing; some half-superior being that conforms to whatever image we care to mold Him into. Ummm…no. Idols aren’t keepers.

The God of this psalm (and all the others) is not far away. He doesn’t fall asleep at the switch. He’s not some impotent, unfeeling vapor. Whatever struggles we may have understanding God, one option simply doesn’t present itself anywhere in the Scriptures: there is no absentee deity.

Make-believe idols certainly are absent when you call to them. But this God’s a Keeper.

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Connect with Steve Woodruff

Twitter: @swoodruff

Are You Kid-ding on Social Platforms?

All of us who are parents, and who are involved with social platforms, have to wrestle with the question: what about my kids?

Specifically, what do I share? That I have kids? Their ages and/or names? Pictures? Personal or family stories?

Or pull a veil over it as much as possible and try to maintain some privacy?

There are probably as many answers as there are people, which means that…there are no big-A Answers. Just opinions and principles.

This inquiry – about kid-sharing – came to me today from a young mother. Now, I’m in a bit different position than a lot of folks, because my family is further down the road than many of you. Most of my boys are on Facebook already. But I do tend to hesitate about sharing specifics, generally speaking, because I live a very open life on the web and don’t want to impose that on them unnecessarily.

Though I admit that I’m not entirely consistent either – my 7-year old is hard not to share, after all, and it seems unnatural to pretend that my family is something other than what it is.

My principle seems to have evolved to share the basics fairly openly, tell some stories that are relatively innocuous, and try to draw on my experiences as a parent to encourage those a bit further back on the trail. A bit existential, I admit – no hard-and-fast rules, and some room to evolve and grow the approach. Because I’m still figuring it out.

How about you? Are you kid-ding? What practices have you evolved into – and especially, what are the principles that guide your thinking?

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Connect with Steve Woodruff

Twitter: @swoodruff

Lift up Your Eyes

This is one of my favorite space pictures, taken, I believe, by the Hubble telescope, and revealing what is actually present in a seemingly blank patch of sky.

Galaxy upon galaxy, each with millions of stars. All dancing and whirling in the vastness of space in an intricate pattern, displaying their beauty in accordance with physical laws and forces we’ve barely begun to understand.

The Earth itself, a tiny drop in the seemingly boundless sea of this universe, is so amazingly and wisely fashioned as to support a myriad of life forms, some of which are still undiscovered, all living and multiplying in an environment so brilliantly well-designed that our best efforts could never come close to reproducing anything like it. And beyond the range of the finest microscopes we can design, the wonders of DNA are barely being unwrapped.

With the application of all of our creative powers, and our best designs, we simply uncover…far greater creative power, and astonishing design that utterly exceeds any of our feeble efforts.

Wherever we look, we are surrounded by wonders. And I don’t believe we can attribute it to blind chance. That, in fact, would be false worship. Lifting up our eyes and opening them should bring about humble awe, not proud self-sufficiency.

“I will lift up my eyes to the mountains; from where shall my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” Psalm 121:1-2.

“The universe” cannot help you. But the One who made the universe, and who made you – your help comes from Him.

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Connect with Steve Woodruff

Twitter: @swoodruff

Hospitable

The house was filling up with guests. Though it was cloudy and grey outside, everything was warm and welcoming inside, as friends old and new crowded in to mingle, and to congratulate a young man on the new chapter in his life.

Our family is used to having lots of folks over. All, that is, except one member. She was recently adopted. And actually, we were a bit worried about her. How would she react to all the arms, legs, faces, and voices? Some she had met before, and the introductions had gone well, but this would be the first time she’d see such a large group invading her home base, her personal space. Would she go off in a corner, afraid of all the chaos? Would she pitch a fit and pierce the noise with an embarrassing display of even more noise?

Would she bark at the guests?

Not to worry. Mystic was the model of canine friendliness, even in the crowd. Everyone was worthy of a sniff and a wag, and no pat on the head was refused. No plate (or its owner) was left unexamined in hope of a handout. Only nine months into this life, our black lab mix showed that she was, in some small way, a party animal.

Dear friends of ours recently lost their chocolate lab to a sudden medical condition. Everyone knew Riley, a big cream puff of a dog who never met a stranger. The welcome mat is always out at that house; an endless stream of people have gone through that front door, generally with a 4-pawed greeter named Riley leading the reception. Our friends would speak about how Riley was an example of hospitality.

We all want our dogs to be loyal, affectionate, and well-mannered companions. But that’s a new one. Hospitable. I like that. May she always abound in that endearing trait!

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Connect with Steve Woodruff

Twitter: @swoodruff

Fully Invested

A lot of the people we meet seem to be half-hearted in their involvement with ___________ (fill-in-the-blank). And, truth be told, perhaps we aren’t fully invested in some of our responsibilities, or in some of the people in our care.

I was reading about an example of someone this morning who was clearly fully-invested in others.

What does a “fully-invested” person look like? Here’s a few things I thought of:

- Devoted. Not just hands reaching out, but heart as well.

- Committed. Not a drive-by person, but someone who is THERE, present, in good times or bad.

- Out-looking. That is, when you look into this person’s eyes, you see someone looking OUT into yours, not calculating a WIIFM (What’s In It For Me).

- Creative. Because this person is “all-in,” creative powers are unleashed to bring about a good result.

- Free. Paradoxically enough, a fully-invested person is liberated from the tyranny of fear.

Do you have fully-invested people in your life? What characteristics do you see?

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Connect with Steve Woodruff

Twitter: @swoodruff

Failure, or Fail-er?

Some words are pretty innocuous, and don’t create a lot of heart-reaction.

Dish, for instance. Or paper. Or flagellum (except for certain research scientists, perhaps, or microbiology majors studying for a final exam).

But “failure” comes with a lot of emotional baggage. It is freighted with meaning, usually negative, and often speckled with the unique memories of individual stumbles of the past, best left undisturbed under layers of busy forgetfulness.

Who wants to dwell on failure? Some, however, compulsively cannot stop doing so. Failure is the elevator speech of their soul. Maybe not outwardly. But inwardly, the monologue goes like this: You’re a failure. You’re a failure. You’re a failure. A bit short on eloquence, I’ll grant. But long on effectiveness. Wear it with…humiliation, like a black t-shirt that refuses to come off.

“Failure” can be a useful term, when viewed through the correct lens. But it can also be a deadly cataract, a slayer of personal ambition and esteem, when it infuses the cornea of its wearer with dark shades that distort and dim the entire landscape. The optometrist can fix up nearsightedness with a corrective prescription. But this kind of emotional astigmatism needs a different treatment plan.

“That was a failure” can be a learning moment. When the thought of the heart is “I am a failure” – that’s when you’re in the danger zone. The trick is to openly acknowledge the one, while not slipping down the slope into the other. “I failed at _____ this time” might lead to a little laceration above the eye. “I’m a loser” is the knockout punch.

No-one escapes failure. If you’re not failing at something, then you’re not trying. Our little ones “fail” constantly as they learn to take their first steps, but we don’t consider them failures – we know that each failure gets her closer to success. So why would our mistakes and failings make us failures? If we’re not good at one thing at one time, does that mean we’re no good…period?

That attractive, successful, vivacious person you wish you were like? That person fails miserably, in many ways – you just don’t see it through the idealized and envious glasses you’ve put on. But sometimes, those very people who seem to have it all are haunted by an inner conviction that they are utter failures. Like a gnawing cancer, that deep and dangerous conviction chews at the soul, magnifying each little individual stumble into yet another prosecutor on the bench, spilling out the evidence that you are not merely human, but an absolute fraud. That’s not sound judgment or conscience speaking. It’s Cupid’s alter ego, firing hateful arrows from a never-empty quiver.

Then life becomes about one of two things. Shrinking back into despair. Or driving forward against the emotional tidal wave to prove yourself. In both cases, however, the engine that drives it is not, “I failed at something – now what can I learn?” It’s not, “How can I make this right?” It’s far more insidious. “See – I’m just a failure.”

Failure. Roll the word over in your mind – doesn’t it have an inescapable finality about it? And isn’t it, when you step back a bit, kind of a stupid nickname to give yourself? With all the unique gifts and abilities you possess, all the good you can do for the people around you – to wallow around in self-accusing misery is to create a self-fulfilling prophecy. Because then you won’t feel like getting up again.

How do we still that voice? Here’s a suggestion, which you might want to try out this week. Just alter the word a bit – a little tiny bit, hopefully staying under the radar of our word police. “I’m a fail-er.” Just drop the accusing “you” from the pronunciation, and suddenly, it really doesn’t sound so bad. In fact, it sounds a lot like being just another member of the human race. A fail-er. A fail-er can get up again and keep going, because…well, that’s what we do, from infancy on. Fail. Learn. Move forward.

I’m a fail-er, then. Hmmmmm – that sounds kind of…normal, all of a sudden. Might not even hesitate to wear it on a t-shirt, with that little spelling switcheroo. So what do you think – which word describes you? Are you a Failure, or a Fail-er?

“I Lost my Data!”

There are many things I never would have said, back in the prehistoric era when I was 7 years old.

One example: “I lost my data!”

Our youngest, Seth, has grown up with the dubious privilege of being surrounded by computers and digital gadgetry from the moment he left the womb. Our final child, his earliest days were the first in our tribe to be documented with a digital camera. He was operating a mouse by age two. He’s quicker on remote controls than his archaic parents, and he regularly beats me on the Wii.  I’m a digital immigrant. He’s a digital native.

One day last week, he was clearly steamed about something (it’s not hard to tell with this kid, he pretty much wears it on his sleeve). As is his wont, he clearly articulated his emotional state: “I’m really frustrated…” then gave the reason: “because I lost my data!” Turns out a computer game he was advancing in got shut down before he saved his current level…his “data.”

Lost. My. Data.

At that age, I wouldn’t have known data from Dali (wouldn’t have known Dali, either). Mice got caught in traps. Software was a pair of cotton briefs. Servers worked in restaurants, except back then they were called waiters.

I knew it was a new era when this boy picked up my new iPhone last year and started navigating his way around it like a toddler playing with his blocks. Learning curve: zero. No fear. No hesitation. It just makes sense to these critters.

I hope I can keep up. Because as the years march on, I worry about my processor speed. And especially, about losing my data…!

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Connect with Steve Woodruff

Twitter: @swoodruff