A Mysterious Manger
In reflecting back on 2009, I am left with one word that has played a more significant role in my life than any other this year: mystery. Although the word applies to many facets of my life recently, it has been particularly true of my interpretation of God and our relationship.
Although I’ve spent the last several years asking questions about my birth and the “why”s that go with that, this is the first year that I can honestly say that I’ve had that conversation directly with God. And, it is the first time that I’ve presented some of that questioning in such an open, public manner. I’m glad I’ve engaged in these areas; yet, I can tell you that none of my questions have been answered -- or at least answered in a manner that I am currently satisfied with.
That’s the thing about God. His ways are extremely mysterious to me.
But, that’s not all bad. The thing I’ve come to realize about God is that I am engaged in a relationship with him – times of ups and downs, times that require work, times of contentment and times of extreme frustration. As is true with a solid relationship, though, I’m realizing it can bear these fluctuations in emotions.
I don’t need God to answer all my questions, just to be confident that he hears them and to know that there are times that he weeps alongside me.
Christmas brings us a fascinatingly mysterious story. Yet, it’s a story that I feel we’ve tried our best to take the mystery out of. Images from our nativity sets show a clean manger lined with fresh straw, Mary and Joseph with smiles on their faces and Jesus sleeping quietly.
Silent Night? Holy Night? I’m wondering if, in that moment, Mary and Joseph would have named the night as such.
Imagine the tumultuous travel that would be inherent for a woman nearing birth while riding on a donkey. The frustration of being denied access to an inn – on a night Mary would give birth, nonetheless. And, I can only imagine that Mary’s mouth was not only shouting blessings to heaven as she lay there birthing a child in a damp, stinky manger that had been used to house animals.
There are so many pieces to this story that do not make sense – so much so that you can only think that the facts are true, because no one would make up a story this crazy to introduce the Son of God!
Think about these few basic pieces of the narrative that make up the Christmas story:
- A virgin giving birth
- No room at the Inn in Joseph’s hometown of Bethlehem, leaving the birth of Jesus to be held in an empty stable
- Angels appearing to sheperds, telling them, "Do not be afraid"
- A new star in the sky lighting the way for the Wise Men to find Jesus
- Herod demanding that all males be killed at the time of Jesus’ birth
This is crazy, mysterious stuff! There’s no way around it. As much as you sing soft, quiet hymns, dim the lights and light candles in the room for a Christmas Eve service, I simply can’t get away from the absolute insanity of this story.
As a friend recently told me, though, God’s insanity is far better than man’s knowledge.
No, God does not make sense to me – but I’m not sure he was meant to. For centuries he has made himself known to humans in a way that few comprehend. So, why should I expect that to change for me?
God seems crazy. His ways appear insane. And, his methods are often mysterious.
That’s fine with me, though. To be honest, I’m not sure I’d like some of the answers that would be offered to in response to my questions anyway!
I commit
The weather has dramatically changed in Seattle these past few days, with clouds, rain, wind and thunderstorms rolling through the area. I'm sad to see the sun and warmer weather go, but I'm excited for a new season. It's football season! A season of limited daylight and turbulent weather. A slower season for me personally, without a grad school class until Spring quarter. A time for me to read, take a cooking class, commune with friends and to wrestle with God.
This past month and a half has been a busy and stressful time for me. And, you've likely noticed that my posts have been sparse. There are certainly seasons in life and this is one that I'm glad to be done with.
This changing season opens up new opportunities and challenges for me. Here are a couple I want you to know about so that we can continue on this journey together:
1. I commit to write at least one blog post per week. Hopefully it will be more frequent than that, but there will be one per week at a minimum. This is a challenge that my friend and colleague, Jeff Brooks, gave me a several days ago as we discussed the discipline of writing and story-telling -- and I think it's a wise step for me to take.
I'm really enjoying writing this blog and admittedly, through conversations with you all, I'm starting to have dreams and thoughts about how my story might have a bigger impact on others. Whether a vocation or not, I'm seeing how God works through my words as I share my story. Writing more and telling my story is an intimidating prospect for sure; but creating one post per week is a way for me to "steer my elephant" by taking small, actionable steps every week. At the end of one year I'll have written 52 posts -- surely enough words and thoughts to use as a skeleton to a memoir or some form of a book.
2. Additionally, I commit to God to wrestle with Him more. If there is one thing that is exceptionally clear to me these past few months it is that I've failed to fully engage in the emotions and frustrations that apprehend me daily as a man born without arms. Wes Stafford, the President & CEO of Compassion International, spoke at the Willow Creek Leadership Conference last month and his topic was leading through the pain of your past. He told a very disturbing and moving story of his childhood as a missionary kid in Africa and how that exceptional pain has compelled him to commit his life to helping children. "No one cares what you know until they know why you care," he said. Well, the reason I care about the issues of disability (that I've begun to explore here) is that God created me with a body that makes my life difficult at times. And, in that alone, there are many questions.
Guaranteed, some of that wrestling with God will spill out into this blog. There are areas of my life that are very sensitive and those will remain between Him and I for now. But, I want this space to serve as a realistic and honest place. I could easily create an entire blog that radiated with hope and that literally glowed with optimism. People love that stuff and, honestly, it's a simple message that the church eats up! But, that's not my life -- and I doubt it's your reality, either. Because of that, I must wrestle with God as Jacob did. Welcome to ringside!
Finally, Sunday evening will be my deadline for the weekly post. So check back every Monday and expect to see something new. I hope you'll continue to interact with what I explore here, as that's the part I enjoy the most. And, feel free to wrestle through life's issues and struggles with me.
The season is changing to Fall -- and that's where simple beliefs die and blow away in preparation for a future season of growth and possibility. Let the rains come and the winds blow.
What Happened?
Now, there's a question I get often. Hardly ever from adults, though. It's usually the kids that ask that question, often followed by a look of disapproval from a parent or another adult. Kids just have this way of addressing the obvious and wanting to know more -- it's what we call curiosity. It's also called discussing the elephant in the room!
As we grow older, I think many of us adults lose the curiosity of our youth. Lost to kindness, to political correctness, to internal processing. Or, even worse, lost to a sense of not noticing the other. We rush past one another barely having the time to hear someone's response to, "How are you?" It's like we never cared to know in the first place. I'm as guilty as anyone in this area.
Lately, though, this word keeps coming to mind. Curiosity. It's a recurring theme for me. We hear it in common phrases like "curiosity killed the cat" or "I was just curios." As a child, the stories of Curious George were very important to me (Curious George Goes to the Hospital was one of my favorites -- far too many hospital visits growing up!). Think about it; a monkey (of all things!) goes around getting himself in trouble because of his curiosity and sense of adventure. Where has that curiosity and risk gone in us?
Granted, some of you folks are very curious people and I applaud you for that. We all know the type -- you spend an evening with them and you feel like they never said a word about themselves because they were so busy asking about your life and your passions. These people light up my days when I'm around them. Thank you to those who excel at being curious! But, there are too few of these people out there.
Instead, we pass one another on the sidewalk and look the other way. We work side by side for years, but I rarely engage enough to know your story or even your spouse's name. We can chat about sports and can shoot the breeze for hours, but I find it difficult to ask you about issues of your race and you reciprocate in regards to my disability. We ride the elevator with each other often, but the most you can do is stare or make awkward comments about how I hold my keys on my shoulder ("You need hooks on you," for example.)
Why is this so hard? Sometimes I wish we all had kids with us everywhere we went. At least that way we'd be forced to address the obvious and engage in the apparent. And, we'd ask questions.
On a recent trip to California I traveled to Brea to visit a former co-worker and his family. After warming up to me, his four year-old son started asking rapid-fire questions, most about my lack of arms. His parents were gracious, but also allowed him to address what was right in front of him (kudos to them!).
Over the course of a few hours he'd pretty much exhausted his list of questions for me. We'd talked about how I did most everything and he seemed satisfied. But, as we got out of the van at the park near the end of our time together, he looked at me earnestly and asked, "So, God made you this way?" I responded with a laugh and said, "I guess so." With that affirmation, he became bolder. "God made you that way!," he declared. "Yep -- and Him and I still have discussions about that every so often," I answered with a chuckle.
You've got to love the curiosity! How many of you have I not told this part of my story? And, how many of you were too afraid to ask? Admittedly, I've never been an open book on this topic. But, it's the obvious question, right?
Well, here's the short version of the story. I was born without arms; no dramatic shark attack stories here. I was simply born like this. God made me this way. After having my brother three years earlier and delivering a fairly healthy boy, my mother gave birth to me on March 10, 1977. After announcing that she'd delivered an otherwise healthy baby boy, the doctor added that there was just one problem -- that my parent's newest child didn't have any arms. After years of doctors' research and a legal battle over a morning sickness pill my mother took during her pregnancy with me, there are still no clear answers.
Admit it, some of you have always wanted to know!
Back to my earlier point -- be curious! Engage with those around you. Ask the checker at the grocery store how their day has been and really listen to the answer. Introduce yourself to strangers, maybe even to the homeless guy on the street corner. Know what brought your co-workers to this point in their career. Ask for a family story to be told (or even re-told). Know her favorite flower so you can brighten her day. All of us can do this.
Heck, be curious about me if you have nothing else to consider. What do you want to know? What questions have you been afraid to ask? Believe me, I've been asked most everything at this point in my life. Bring it on! I want to engage, so ask away.
No wonder I loved Curious George! Matter of fact, I still do.
Subscribe via Email
Connect with Me
Tags
Recent Comments
- Jon Arntsen on Carrying Less
- Seth La Tour on The Dumbest Question
- Andrew on The Dumbest Question
- ron on The Dumbest Question
- Karise on The Dumbest Question