Sometimes I just need to get out of the house.

I work here.

I sleep here.

A little more than half of my day-to-day life, I’m alone here. 

There’s plenty of food in the kitchen; but tonight, after a particularly tough day of (mostly) self-imposed frustrations, I needed to buy dinner…away. 

About two miles up the road, en route to my still-undecided-upon destination, I took a deep breath and exhaled aloud “What is wrong with me?” under the noisy guitar riff of a Colony House song playing through my stereo. I said what I said. But what I really wanted to know was, “What is going on with me?” Academically, I’m aware nothing about me is wrong.  I have an arsenal of affirming scripture handy for that thought: I am complete in Christ (Col. 2:10). I have been redeemed and forgiven of all my sins (Col. 1:14). I am free forever from condemnation (Romans 8:1,2), et al. 

What’s going on with me, though, is…I get stuck. So stuck that it’s hard to even know what to type next to start hashing it all out. (Which is what all of this is right now…me and God hashing things out) 

***Just returned from a 15-minute social media space-out, which was actually 45 minutes***

I’ve been “stuck” most of today, and it’s draining. “It” affects (infects?) my mood, my conversations, my perception and my hopes. And because, again, academically I know what’s True (Rom. 5:2), it’s a complete waste of time on so many levels. Wasted fruitful, encouraging conversations. Wasted opportunities to find the good in things. Wasted time spent dwelling on stuff that doesn’t eternally matter. I get stuck because I become convinced life is happening in a way that I wish it wouldn’t. My life and all of its purpose therein is on this course for great things, yet I keep errantly veering off over the median and getting lost in a sea of angry oncoming traffic. It’s difficult to maneuver back into the correct lane when my energy and focus become so set on avoiding painful encounters in the wrong/counter-productive place I’ve wandered into. 

What’s this wrong “it” lane look like? For example:

• I need to make myself more desirable, so I need to perform better and do more significant things
• They don’t seem to acknowledge me or my needs, so I need to perform better and do more significant things
• I’m an uncomfortable person to be around, so maybe I should just create distance between us
• They aren’t able to connect well with me, so maybe I should just create distance between us

Of course, the “right” lane directing anyone through their life’s divine purpose isn’t easy, either. Especially for anyone choosing to follow Christ (Matthew 7:14). The tough part — the part where I get stuck — is in that moment when the oncoming traffic (and all of its distractions) becomes more real than the prospect of getting back onto the course I know I’m supposed to travel. 

I’ve taken this analogy about as far as it can go, so I’ll say it this way.

I work in the music industry and, as nature would have it, I was born with an ego. It’s a tall order to be any part of the entertainment industry and regularly defy the lower-case god of acknowledgement, significance and approval. Especially when my specific job is marketing and promotion. MY JOB IS TO GET PEOPLE’S ATTENTION AND THEN GET THEM TO LIKE ME AND THEN GET THEM TO THINK THAT WHAT I HAVE TO OFFER IS SPECIAL. For real, God? I mean, I like what I do. But how interesting is it that every day, I sit down at my desk, pick up the phone, send emails and face the biggest battle of my life. To live out and project to others the grace found in an identity cemented in Christ, rather than live and die by the moment, depending on how desirable a person or circumstance makes me feel. 

But, man, how often do I find myself stuck an internal battle between who God says I am and the much-more-real-in-the-moment lie of what it seems like the world is saying about me — or what I’M saying about me? Literally? Every day. Every day I’m stepping up to the plate against “it.” It doesn’t help that I’m a recovering over-thinker. A friend of mine suggested this morning that I might be more fine than I think I am, but I analyze my way out of “average life” and make matters in my head unnecessarily worse. This insight is by no stretch ridiculous. I’m sure that’s another post in itself, later on. 

Some might suggest I seek out another type of career path, considering what I’m up constantly up against in my heart and mind. I’m up for anything, if it’s clear this isn’t working. But there’s something clearly at work in my heart here and moving into something else right now as I work through all of this feels like…fleeing. I’d like to face this and experience victory, which looks to me like a lot of God’s demonstrated glory. I’d like to snap out of “it” on a daily basis. So much so that “it” is more like an annoying gnat to swat out of my face, not four lanes of oncoming semi-trucks.  I’d like to experience (many, long) moments when “it” isn’t even a factor because my purpose is more clear and real than any perceived rejection or failure.

If “it” takes me to a place that’s the opposite of God’s best for me, and God is love (I John 4:8), then I can be assured that particular path is going to be impatient, rude, self-serving, proud, easily angered and despairing (I Cor. 13:4-7), to name a few. Today — many days — I get mixed up in all of that. There isn’t a neat bow to put at the end of this post, necessarily, but I do know that writing this stuff out helps me gain a more Centered, purposeful outlook on where I have to believe God is taking me. And although other things might seem more real than His Truth at times, I have to believe that will change as I stay focused on the path He has me on. 

Which, interestingly, makes James 1:4, a verse that’s been my go-to for most of the past year, so fitting right about now:

“Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” 

 

“Vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging,  joy, courage, empathy and creativity. If we want greater clarity in our purpose, vulnerability is the path.” – Brene Brown (Daring Greatly)

For nearly three years, I’ve been part of a men’s group who meets on Tuesday nights. I could be neurotic (could be??), but the greater truth is, if I didn’t send a reminder text/email out the five other guys EVERY MONDAY of our 6:30 gathering tomorrow night, I’m willing to bet money I don’t have that the group straight-up wouldn’t meet.

Some would forget.

Some would think about it for a second, d0 a mental (or maybe physical) shoulder-shrug and continue getting lost down a rabbit trail of YouTube vids.

Some would fall into a psychophysical paralysis, unsure what to do in this situation, leading them to spend no less than 15 minutes staring at a nail hole in the wall and not moving.

Of course, I assume all of this, because these are things I have done historically in various circumstances. But not when it comes to this Tuesday night group. I tackle the administrative reins because it’s important that we make a meeting happen as weekly as possible. And everyone in the group knows it’s important, too. It’s just…hard to send meeting-organizing text messages. …I suppose.

What’s intriguing about this group of six dudes is this:

– 3 of us are over 35

– 5 of us have children

– 4 of us have children under the age of 4

– 2 of us are raising teenagers

– 5 of us are married

– 4 of us have been married for less than 7 years

– 3 of us are divorced

– 3 of us come from broken homes

– 4 of us have experienced infidelity in our marriages

– 4 of us have experienced months+ long seasons of joblessness

– 2 of us are enjoying our current career path

We attend three different churches.

We are able to identify in each other a pretty great skill that has little or nothing to do with their current line of work. One guy works at an airport, but would love to run his own bakery someday. Another works for an IT firm, but is a semi-pro photographer quickly en route to becoming totally pro, and is already dealing with a high demand for his business. Another is a great filmmaker and actor who soon plans to drop his job teaching English to Middle Eastern students at a local community college and move with his wife to NYC to become a sitcom star.

Noticeably, there are lots of overlaps in parts our stories but each one has twists/turns and a destination that is uniquely ours. We share our fears and dreams. Our mistakes and accolades. We’re working on being confrontational, but that’s tough, because no one likes to be seen as a jerk, even when a confrontation would be the most loving action. It takes a lot of trust to confront someone you love.

Typically, guys don’t like to be vulnerable. Or, really, even know how to be. The six of us are still trying to figure that out too; but after a few years together, we’re all growing more comfortable–and capable–sharing what’s really going on in our respective worlds. That kind of development requires time and trust–neither of which can be forced, as we all know. There are still moments when we’re tempted to do things that minimize our mess/sin and deflect our need for true relationship (and the gospel of God’s grace), like:

• Fake
• Defend
• Hide
• Blame-shift
• Downplay
• Exaggerate

All in a pretty depressing effort to look better to each other and/or feel better about ourselves. Sometimes we actually do give into the temptation–at least I do–but we each know better that doing so ultimately will never amount to a positive net sum. Sharing our stories without imparting the full truth is not only (of course) lying, it’s settling on being…boring, and wasting time.

I’ve found the experience of being known–even partly known, with the commitment to make myself as fully transparent as possible over time (at least within the confines of safe people) — and loved anyway, is transcendental. To become the person I want to be, I have to make choices to fully know myself. In order to fully know myself, I need to know (and accept) who Christ says I am. When I know who I am, I can make myself adequately known to those around me. And if they’re taking the same steps, I can know them.

One of life’s greatest satisfactions is to live it out with people choosing to take those steps, avoiding the natural tendency to wander around solo, and instead walk down the same path of clarity and purpose together.

 

Recently, I decided to get my hair cut by a male stylist in town who’s a good acquaintance and doing his best to launch a salon & spa alongside his wife, who’s also a stylist. I’d been content with the salon that took care of my hair-grooming needs for a few years; but when Ricardo offered me a good price for his work, I decided the salon world wasn’t a place necessary for establishing deep-rooted loyalties. And I don’t like to spend money on hair stuff. So, Ricardo and his yet-unquoted “good price” won my business.

Ricardo’s a fairly confident, Mediterranean man, who moved to the States a couple years back to start a new life with his equally-Mediterranean spouse, Elena. He prides himself on being the best in town — if not also the best in many towns neighboring this town. He spends a lot of time and money traveling to Paul Mitchell-endorsed “here’s what’s up in the hair world this week” workshops in New York City and Paris/Prague (one or both of those). He keeps no less than three buttons of his shirt unbuttoned and, naturally, maintains a well-manicured beard.

So, as a guy who’s not living in Ricardo’s world of high-fashion and pageantry, I’ll admit: Ricardo’s pretty intimidating. I (still) haven’t managed to grow a presentable beard, let alone taken straight-ironing classes in Italy.

But I told him I’d visit him for a hair appointment and I’ve learned to stand by my commitments. Besides, from what I’d heard of this man, he was a sheer genius (that was bad, but I’ll let it go) and the idea of a new look interested me, after two years of the military-esque high ‘n’ tight thing, inspired by my re-visiting the Band of Brothers HBO series in early 2012.

Ricardo greets me at his salon with a firm handshake (I’m a hugger, but he’s a working man in his work space, so it’s all business), sits me down in his swively salon chair and drapes a cape over me. He proceeds to not ask me what kind of hair style I’m considering. That information’s irrelevant. I’m the one wearing the cape. I need to just…sit there…and let the artist work. Ricardo explains his game plan to me (I’ll try to do it in his accent):

“These es th’ most pupular men’s hair style in th’ wurl. These es how David Beckham styles hees hair. Right now.”

With charisma and aforementioned confidence, Ricardo uses hand gestures to paint me a visual picture of myself with Beckham hair. The look is a military-esque high ‘n’ tight thing with a part down the right side and the front hair kind of flipped up and back (I was unable to locate the technical jargon, but found this. It’s a real thing!).

“Oh…ok,” I say, with hesitancy. Remember, I’m a little intimidated. “This is essentially the same style I’ve had for awhile. Do you have any other ideas…or…?”

“These es the most pupular men’s hair style in th’ wurl,” Ricardo repeats. “I geeve these hair cut to all th’ men. Trahst me.”

He starts up the razor and does what he said he was going to do. Conversation over. I was getting the “David Beckham”. The accent probably had something to do with this, but it was impossible to not think of a less jerk-y, salon version of Seinfeld‘s notoriously eccentric “Soup Nazi,” as I sat there, taking orders from the merchant getting my (the customer’s) business.

The hair cut was fine. And I can’t argue that the look embodied what the fashion world says is currently cool. But that’s beside the much bigger point that came to me in that moment.

I wish this was an isolated situation of me allowing someone to assert on to me something different than what I really wanted. Especially considering the trivial-ness of getting Nazi’d into a “forced” hair style. But more often than I want to admit, I find myself being quite untrue to who I really am because:

• I didn’t want to create a divisive situation
• I didn’t care enough to fight for what I had initially purposed to pursue, because I simply wasn’t as convicted as I should have been in said purpose.
• I didn’t want to project myself as (too) different — being different is “cool,” but we all know there’s a limit before cool becomes “weird,” even as adults
• I didn’t know myself enough to really know what I want in the first place

Nearly every part of my office desk is laden with Post-It notes and 3×5 cards with reminders that I actually read, sometimes. Front and center-ish, is one that says in green Sharpie: “…Your task is to be true, not popular”, excerpted from the Message version of Luke 6:26. I’ve wanted to start a blog–or simply write what’s on my heart regularly–for years (and years), but I’ve never been convinced that I have anything of (enough) importance to communicate. And I’m realizing that I’m lazy (“So I really have to type out all of these thoughts into all of these words for free?).

It seems like God’s (been) telling me to start small and just start writing what I’m learning to be true in this season — and maybe beyond. Exploring the somewhat-universal concept of seasons themselves — the stories/lessons generated from them, and most vitally, where Jesus can be found in all of them.

While it’s pretty easy for me to be vulnerable I’m taking steps each day toward living more vulnerably, with some success, it’s tough to go at this knowing a lot of what I’m learning to be true isn’t popular. Shoot, I’m a walking billboard of having a hard time doing what’s true of myself.

My “pupular” hair cut is presently demonstration enough.