Balancing Act

Throughout my life I've been on a hopeless quest.  One not altogether less fanciful than quests for the Holy Grail or the Fountain of Youth.  I have sought for balance.

Now physically I have good balance.  In fact, I've been amazed that some activities I find quite easy some friends find impossible.  And yet I'm sure that I've consciously or subconsciously avoided "balancing acts" I was not able to perform.

The other day I was considering my life and the use of my time and once again I desired balance.

First I was thinking of my current level of inefficiency.  Every moment of life is filled.  Time does not stop to wait for you to decide or figure out what to do next.  You may like what fills your time or not, but something is going to fill your time.  It is in this filling of time that I am balanced challenged.

I've some how developed the belief that time is wasted if I am not physically active or mentally taxed.  (For example: writing often counts, but reading and praying -- although I enjoy them and understand their value -- don't count.)  Yet it is not enough for me to merely be active.  I must try to stuff too much in a set amount of time -- efficiency, but a distorted form.  "Get it done quickly, so I can get something else done."  (Even if I don't know what the something else is.)  This compulsion is so deep that it is how I eat.

But there is no end to this assembly line type of thinking.  The result is often a lot of anxiety and little joy.  There may be a sense of satisfaction, but you've no time to enjoy what has been done.

This self-evaluation of my imbalanced idea of efficiency and productivity led me to think about other types of balance.  Interaction with other I find terribly challenging, for example.  I want it (and everything) to be easy and intuitive.  If it is not, I drop it.  That's a problem though, for balance is not a static state; it is dynamic.

Balance whether physical, mental, spiritual, or social is never a single achievement that we can then dust our hands from as accomplished and move on to something else.  Let me illustrate.

A tightrope walker -- no matter how good he is -- is always making adjustments to maintain balance.  At first the adjustments are too large and made when he feels he is on the verge of falling.  During this beginning stage he will often fall.  Yet, because he is determined to learn and master the skill, he starts again.  He learns to use the tools available to assist him.  And as he learns he over-corrects (reacts) less and less, for he learns to make small on-going corrections rather than waiting till he is about to fall.

The only way we can ever have true balance in any area of our lives is through God.  When we try to walk the tightrope, we fall.  The ground is "safer" and much easier, so many just give up.  Yet Jesus tell us that the way to salvation is narrow while the way to distraction is wide -- so the ground is not so safe after all.

So you get back on the tightrope and try very hard.  But you over-react to maintain your balance and fall off the other side.  You get frustrated and tell God that you can't do it!  The rope is too narrow and the balancing tools are too heavy.

At that moment He asks if you want help.  Help has always been available, but you wanted this to be your achievement.  You wanted God to be proud of you (because we often confuse pride with love).   You didn't want Him (or anyone else) to see how weak you are.  But success without personal instruction and assistance is impossible.  You have two options: give up and walk away or give up and accept God's help.

Instruction comes from many sources -- the Bible, inspired writings, visual lessons (nature), failures, sermons, etc.  So with the Holy Spirit as our teacher we learn first to choose appropriate balancing tools -- things that constrain us and keep us balanced as we learn the principles and trust God's love.  We learn how to pray continually (small on-going corrections to our balance) and don't wait till we're about to fall.  (Remember the disciples in the storm?)  We learn to rely on God's continual presence -- to depend on Him.

Each of us have several areas of imbalance in our lives.  Of some we are painfully aware and perhaps have given up on.  Others we seem to enjoy -- we keep getting back on the rope but seem to hope we will fall off again.

I said we have two options regard our quest for balance, but actually there are three: 1) give up and stay in the wide way, 2) don't give up, don't accept help, and keep falling off (by the way you will eventually end up in the wide way because you are spending most of your time on the ground instead of on the rope), 3) give up and trust yourself to God's instruction.

You may not like that I say, "You must give up to learn."  But Paul said, "I die daily."  And Jesus said, "Take up your cross (an instrument of death) and follow me."  Unless we let self (getting the credit for the "success") die -- that is giving up -- we will never walk the tightrope.  Unless we are willingly saying, "Not I, but Christ" -- we will never maintain balance in our lives.  

Indenity

The difficulty many people have with wandering is that you keep ending up at the same place, coming at it from various directions. Yet this is often the case in our Christian journey, but these returns are important. You get to see the issue from other perspectives: the lighting (your knowledge) might be brighter or dimmer, the season (your experience) reveals new features of the landscape, and the weather (your emotions) may obscure or clarify the view. Therefore, you see aspects of the issue you never imagined were even there. This is not always delightful, but it is always helpful.

Identity is one of the issues I’m continually bumping into. In fact, I generally return to it of my own accord. The subject fascinates me but leaves me disquieted. Being a Christian, I reason, should at least in part define who I am. Yet I’m dissatisfied with the answers I usually find. Lists of behaviors (dos and don’ts) are generally how people define Christians. Some personality researchers favor this approach to identity — you are what you do. I see their point but still feel flat. Are you more: you are why you do what you do?

You see I’m very good (for the most part) at doing what I’m “supposed to” do. Give me the criteria, and I can fulfill the assignment. I “do” very well, but I don’t “be” very well. So spiritually I return to this spot. I want so desperately to know what I’m supposed to “be” on the inside. 

I’ve read many books to plumb these depths. (That is often how one travels in the land of Christianity.)  One of my current favorites is The Crossroads of Must and Should. It helped me to distinguish between behaviors that I’ve been told I “should” do (many of which I agree with) and behaviors that I feel compelled to do — like write. Although helpful, I’m still left with an identity based on actions which I find disharmonious with what I read in the Bible.

Ty Gibson’s book A God Named Desire is one the the half dozen books I’m reading. I read books to have something to think about, and I have found a lot to think about in this book. He makes a strong argument that at the most basic level we are defined by relationship. (Now this is what I’ve gleaned, not what he has explicitly stated.) God identifies Himself many times by relationship — the God who made a covenant with Abraham, Issac, and Jacob. When we read “covenant” we tend to think of a contact, a business agreement — cold, professional, and distant. Yet God is defined by John as love (1 John 4:8). Surely a covenant with God (who is love) cannot be cold and distant. It cannot be a strictly professional association. God is the creator, but His identity even as creator is centered in the relationship of the Godhead. And if God’s identity is so conjoined to relationship, isn’t it reasonable to assume that my identity is just as dependent on relationship?

But there’s the rub. Which of my relationships defines who I am? And what does that mean anyway? Many people have made themselves just as miserable by defining themselves by relationships as by defining themselves by their occupation (what they do). Relational defining drives young and old alike into romantic relationship and parental relationships. All to answer the question: “Who am I?”  Enough people have ruined their lives this way that I think it is safe to say that even the best of human relationships fail to provide a satisfactory answer to the identity question

Gibson focuses on God’s amazing type of love, which human relationships were designed to give us an insight into. On page 172 (of the e-book version), he states that “[l]ove is composed first of the ability to see others without reference to one’s self, without consideration for benefit to one’s self.”  That is an amazing type of love, and God uses covenants to express that love.  Gibson explains that “[c]ovenant is an idea that simply means there is more than one person and that those who coexist live toward one another with other-centered integrity.” (p 254)  This self-forgetful love is the foundation of all else that God is. Might that not also be the core of what each and every one of us might be?

Talk about vulnerability! No wonder we prefer to self-identity by what we do and behaviors. They may not satisfy the dryness of the soul, yet they appeal to my innate self-centeredness. Who wants to think of other’s “without consideration for benefits to one’s self”? Our self-preservation almost short-circuits at the thought alone.

At that thought I came to a full stop. Mouth open as I was going to continue to protest.

I realized that at the most fundamental level self-centeredness is the desperate attempt to have a fulfilling relationship with one’s self. It becomes a type of relational black hole: you accept love from others, but your best attempts at love are tainted because you're only doing what you have to so the other person will feed you his/her love. The only relationship strong enough to counteract this is the relationship of the Godhead. 

Some suggest that thinking about others is the key. I disagree that it is THE solution because the black hole in my soul will still be looking for what I can get out of it. Only as I learn to make God “first, last and best in everything” can I truly be. But that can be tricky because I can easily slide into merely doing. *sigh*

The Start, But Not The Beginning

For many years I’ve told people that I like to travel, but I'm not sure that is — or ever was — true. I’ve been fortunate to have lived in many wonderful places, and that is how I like to travel Therefore, I’m not well traveled; I’m “well lived”. Of course, there are many places I’ve not been able to live, so I’ve read books set in or historical accounts of far away places, or watched beautifully produced documentaries. I’m an armchair traveller. This does not mean that I haven’t travelled or that I won’t travel, but . . . well I like the familiar. There is one fascinating destination that I wander through often; it is both familiar and foreign to me — my Christian experience.

It is possible to be an armchair Christian just as much as an armchair traveller, and I’ve been one. Many don't realize just how easy it is to be an armchair Christian, for nobody's Christian journey can be gauged by passport stamps or pins on a map. And unlike Christian’s journey in Pilgrim’s Progress, generally our journey is not very linear. “Been there. Done that.” doesn't always (or even usually) apply to the Christian journey. Nice clear progress would be very satisfying, yet that “Been there. Done that.” expectation is rarely gratified. This journey is more time than geographically orientated. The journey doesn’t end when you get to a certain place but when the time is over. Like in musical chairs you keep moving (wandering, exploring, learning, and growing) till the music stops.

My traveling in this mode is neither unique nor exciting (in the thrill-a-minute sense), and I wonder how many people feel the same way. How many of you think that something more should be happening? How many of you want to get out of your armchair?

Well, I have no answer for you. Surprised? I don’t believe that any person has an answer; that knowledge is God’s. I don't have answers, but I have experiences. This blog is a type of “travel log” rather than a “guidebook” in the hope that sharing my experiences might be an encouragement or a caution to to others. I’m not sure if I’m even out of my armchair (and I’m certain that I’ll sit back down at some point), but I welcome your company. Nothing has been planned. I’ve no set of clever parallels for luggage, passports, tickets, etc. The only thing I have is the ultimate Michelin Guide — the Bible. If I’m not sure I’m on the right track, I can refer to it. If I’m not sure a philosophy is safe to partake of, I can refer to it. And the more often I refer to it the more clear my travel will be. Interested?