Indian Giving (...for lack of a better term)

I don't really like the term "Indian Giver" in that it links a negative trait to a certain group of people for no apparent reason.  That being said, it's the only widely-recognizable term for the concept that I know of.  I thought of using the term "hypocrisy/hypocrite", but it is too broad of a term that encompasses more than the specific action I want to discuss.  So because of that, I will begrudgingly use it.

In case anyone is unfamiliar with the term, an "Indian Giver" is a person who gives a gift to someone, only to later ask for the item back (thus negating the gift giving process).  We are taught as children that this kind of behavior is dishonest and selfish.  Giving should be something done with graciousness and love, not with envy.  For most of us, by time we become adults, recognize this as being inappropriate behavior and, frankly, not a good way to make friends.  So we don't do it.  Or do we?

I have come to realize recently that I still exhibit this type of behavior.  You may think to yourself "Jimmy, when did you ever give me something and then ask for it back?" (or even, "Jimmy, when have you ever given me something? Ya cheap jerk."  If so, my apologies!) Well, as far as I know, it's never been another person to whom I've offered an Indian Gift (is that even a word?).  It has been God.

I cannot count nor remember each time that I have offered something in my life, typically a struggle, to the Father so I could "trust" in His goodness.  However, as soon as I notice that things are not going the way that I am sure they should, I quickly reach out and try to snatch it from God's grasp so that I can tend to it how I see fit.  Was there ever any trust present to begin with?  Did I ever really think that God had my best interest in mind?  Or was I just searching for validation that I was a capable master of my own life?  (Spoiler alert - hahahahahaha, no.)

Now, logic would dictate that, if you were to entrust something to an omniscient, omnipotent, and benevolent being and said thing did not turn out the way you expected or hoped it would, it would make the most sense to realign your hopes and expectations with the design of that being.  However, I've never been one for logic.  I once stuck toy skateboard wheel  in my ear canal because "I though it would be funny." It got stuck.  (I then tried to remove the wheel from my ear by sniffing pepper, holding my nose closed, and sneezing...the idea being that the force of air pressure in my ears would dislodge the toy from ear. But that's a discussion for another day).  Clearly, logic and I don't see eye to eye.

Sometimes, however, being a knucklehead can be dangerous.  Like when you consider your own plans to be higher than that of the Almighty.  But here's the beauty of grace: even when we become so enthralled with our own tiny plans that we try to limit God's involvement, He doesn't abandon us.  When we finally, and inevitably, become frustrated that our plans didn't turn out the way we had envisioned them, He gently requests that we let him try.  And that's when He shines.  That's when He shows us what He had in mind all along. And it's SO much better than what we thought.

In true knucklehead fashion, it takes a few figurative fingers in the light socket to realize that maybe I don't always know what's best.  But hindsight really is 20/20.  I have no reason NOT to trust in the Lord's goodness and his power.  I am finding that when I surrender my fears and my struggles to the Father, it's best to just step out of the way and watch Him work.  Often times the process is not going to look the way that I want it too.  A lot of times it's going to bring me some discomfort.  But the result always turns out be be more fantastic than I had previously imagined.  If I can keep myself from trying to take my struggles back, I think I'll find I can save myself a whole lot of headache.  And heartache.  And earache.

Who told you that you were naked? - A Response

So for the majority of this post, I am not able to take credit.  This is a response to an excerpt of from a book Stuff Christians Like by Jon Acuff.  Jon, if you're reading this...first off, don't you have better things to do? But also, thanks for sharing your wisdom.  If you haven't read it, I HIGHLY recommend it.  The majority of the book is absolutely hilarious, especially since you can think of at least one person who embodies each of the categories he talks about.  But toward the end of the book, Acuff takes a break from the humor to talk about some real life-altering stuff that Christians actually struggle with.  I was reading this book while at work, and when I got to this section, I had fight back tears as I realized how much this truly embodies me.  I know the following excerpt is very long, however I highly encourage you to read the whole thing.  Acuff says:

"I don’t want to brag, but I’m pretty awesome at applying Band-Aids.  And make no mistake, there is an art.  Because if you go too quickly and unpeel them the wrong way, they stick to themselves and you end up with a wadded-up useless mess instead of the Little Mermaid –festooned bandage your daughter so desperately wants to apply to a boo-boo that may in fact be 100% fictional.

Half of the injuries I treat at the Acuff house are invisible or simply wounds of sympathy.  My oldest daughter, L.E. will scrape her knee and my three-year-old, Mcrae, realizing the Band-Aid box is open will say, “Yo Dad, I’d like to get in on that too.  What do you say we put one on, I don’t know, my ankle.  Yeah, my ankle, let’s pretend that’s hurt.”

But sometimes the cuts are real, like the day my five-year-old got a scrape on her face playing in the front yard.  I rushed into the house and returned with a princess bandage.  As I bent down to apply it to her forehead, her eyes filled up with tears and she shrank back from me.

“What’s wrong?”  I asked.

“I don’t want to wear that Band-Aid,” she replied.

“Why? You have a cut, you need a Band-Aid,” I said.

“I’ll look silly,” she answered.

Other than her sister and her mom, there was no one else in the yard.  None of her friends were over, cars were not streaming past our house and watching us play, the world was pretty empty at the moment.  But for the first time I can remember, she felt shame.  She had discovered shame.  Somewhere, somehow, this little five-year-old had learned to be afraid of looking silly.  If I were smarter, if I had been better prepared for the transition from the little toddler to little girl, I might have asked her this:

“Who told you that you were silly?”

I didn’t though.  That question didn’t bloom in my head until much later, and I didn’t understand it until I saw God as a similar question in Genesis 3:11.  To me, this is one of the saddest and most profoundly beautiful verses in the entire Bible.  Adam and Eve have fallen.  The apple is a core.  The snake has spoken.  The dream appears crushed.  As they hide from God under clothes they’ve hastily sewn together, he appears and asks them a simple question:

“Who told you that you were naked?”

There is a hurt in God’s voice as he asks this question, but there is also a deep sadness, the sense of a father holding a daughter that has, for the first time ever, wrapped herself in shame.

Who told you that you were not enough?

Who told you that I didn’t love you?

Who told you that there was something outside of me you needed?

Who told you that you were ugly?

Who told you that your dream was foolish?

Who told you that you would never have a child?

Who told you that you would never be a father?

Who told you that you weren’t a good mother?

Who told you that without a job you aren’t worth anything?

Who told you that you’ll never know love again?

Who told you that this was all there is?

Who told you that you were naked?

I don’t know when you discovered shame.  I don’t know when you discovered that there were people who might think you are silly or dumb or not a good writer or a husband or a friend.  I don’t know what lies you’ve been told by other people or maybe even by yourself.

But in response to what you are hearing from everyone else, God is still asking the same question, “Who told you that you were naked?”

And he’s still asking us that question because we are not.

In Christ we are not worthless

In Christ we are not hopeless.

In Christ we are not dumb or ugly or forgotten.

In Christ we are not naked.

In Isaiah 61:10 it says, “For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness.”

The world may try to tell you a thousand different things today.  You might close this book and hear a million declarations of what you are and who you’ll always be, but know this.

As unbelievable as it sounds and as much as I never expected to type this sentence in a book:

You are not naked."

I am completely guilty of believing these lies.  The funny thing is,  I can't even remember ANYONE telling me any of these things, however I believed some of them as if people had been hurling them at me.  Shame is absolutely the tool of the enemy.  Now I will be the first to admit that I am not worthy God's grace....but isn't that the definition of grace? Something that is given despite your inadequacies.  Please don't misunderstand, it is a good and healthy thing to accept the fact that we have fallen short.  If we didn't, if we forced ourselves to believe we are good enough, we wouldn't accept the grace that is so valuable.  We wouldn't know a love that blows our ability to understand clean out of the water.  But there's a thin line between admitting you need a Savior and falling prey to the belief that you are damaged goods, so much so that you are of no value to God.  

So why do I struggle with this so much? The Bible is full of evidence that Christ's love is complete.  It was demonstrated through the ultimate act of sacrifice.  Why do I believe that I would fall outside that blanket of love? The answer, though surprising, is simple: Sin.  Arrogance.  To THINK that my shortcomings are one too many to keep me the affections of Christ.  Where do I get off? This arrogance makes me so susceptible to allow the enemy to increase these thoughts.  So maybe the question, in my case, should be "Why do you insist on being naked?"  Because let's be honest...it's just awkward for me an everyone around me.    

Eloquence

William Faulkner, American author of The Sound and the Fury and As I Lay Dying, once said of fellow author Ernest Hemingway, "He has never been known to use a word that might send a reader to the dictionary." In response, Hemingway fired by back saying "Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?" At this point, you're probably thinking, "Ok, Jimmy has a degree in English, but must he write an entire blog post on authors? Didn't he do enough of that in college?" To answer you're question: 1) Yes I did; and 2) This has nothing to do with literature. It has everything to do with spirituality.

I chose to major in English for one main reason: I like words. I believe language is an incredibly powerful tool that God has blessed us with. Words have a deeper impact than many people realize. When used well, words can create an eloquent tapestry of emotion and description that can well up feelings of joy, sadness, suspense, and relief within our spirits. But each type of language has an appropriate time and setting. The vocabulary I used when writing collegiate papers, for instance, would seem out of place in conversation with my close friends. I don't need to use big words to convey my emotions to those I love. In fact, saying "Life is good" or "I'm frustrated with this" or "I miss you" comes across much as being much more sincere than "I'm experiencing triumph" or "I am thwarted by this" or "I yearn for your presence." Because at the root of it, I want my loved ones to see me my emotions for what they are: genuine. My emotions are enough, they don't require any dressing-up. I have nothing to prove to them. Why shouldn't the same apply to my relationship with God?

I am often put off by the cliches that are used so exhausted in Christian culture. Particularly in prayer. I am not so much irked by poetic language as it pertains to describing God or speaking of his majesty. He truly is great and it is most certainly appropriate to use the eloquence He Himself invented to create a glorious description of Him and His works. But personally, I find it hard to use this language when I'm talking to him and feel like I'm being authentic. It is not necessary. I do not need to try to impress God. Believe me, I know that I can't do it. How can imperfection impress Perfection? It's pointless. I do not need to earn His affection, he already provides it over-abundantly. And furthermore, God neither requires it, nor does He request it. He asks for one thing: authenticity. "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength, and with all your mind." - Luke 10:27. Nowhere does it say "with all your eloquence" or "with all your impressive vocabulary".

Clearly God is royalty. He is the King of Kings, Lord of Lords, Prince of Peace...I could go on for hours. He certainly deserves the best words we can offer. But why do those words have to be multi-syllabic, 10+ letter words (...kind of like "multi-syllabic")? The three most powerful words in the bible were 4 letters with only one syllable: Faith. Hope. Love. God wants us to be in relationship with him. He wants us to be intimate with him. He wants us to be real with him. I cannot speak for others, but in my life "intimacy" is almost synonymous with "vulnerability". For me to be vulnerable with my God, I have to step out from the veil that I create with my words. I have no need to hide my brokenness. If I'm happy, I'm going to tell Him just that and thank Him for that. If I'm tired, I'm going to keep it simple. If I'm frustrated, I will let him know with the fewest words possible. Because to be honest, I can't wait to shut up and let Him speak. I want to be able to pour my heart out to him completely, and then wait for him to respond.

For this reason, I am coming increasingly irritated by the Christian cliches that are littered throughout public prayer. I find the same phrases turning up over and over and over in prayer, and it eventually gets to the point where the phrase means nothing to me anymore. Why should I ask God such a vague request as "fall upon this place" when I could straight up ask "allow me to experience your presence"? Why is it necessary to speak in biblical metaphors in a conversation with a personal God? I feel much more authentic telling God "I'm tired and I'm frustrated and I need strength and patience" than telling Him "I grow weary of running the race." Metaphors are a great tool to explain a concept. They are not necessary in expressing emotions. God knows my heart. He doesn't need me to to explain how I'm feeling.

Please do not misunderstand me. If your prayer is most authentic when using these terms and phrases, then do no think I am saying that my way is the only right way. When it comes down to it, I don't particularly care what words you use in your prayers. That doesn't involve me, its between you and God. I also have no right to tell you how your spiritual life should work. I'll be the first to admit that mine is often a mess. I can suggest that you consider the same question I have been led to: How can I be most vulnerable? How I can I be most authentic? If my logic is flawed, please bring it to my attention. Whoever you are, for whatever reason you're reading this, I value your opinion. Let's grow together.

20/20

I'm going to level with you all: I'm scared. In less than two weeks, I will walk across the stage in the middle of Pomoco Stadium and be handed a college diploma, signifying that I will officially be a college graduate, holding a degree in English. The very next day, I will be completely lost. I do not have a job lined up. I do not have any internships lined up. I do not want to go to grad school, at least not right now. It is a very unsettling situation to find oneself in. So I'm scared. But I'm not panicking. I'm nervous. But I have peace. I have everything I need to be sure of my future success. I have a family who have supported me since birth and will continue to support me through my future endeavors. I have friends who love me who I know will always be there when I need them to be. And I know a God who is perfect in power.

For the past twenty-two years of existence on this planet, life has been good. However, I can no longer count on two hands the amount of times I've found myself in situations which seemed to have no beneficial results. Often times, I've cried out to God and found that He did not answer my prayers the way I wanted him to. At the time, it seemed that I had been abandoned. However, I have been learning recently that hindsight always really is 20/20. I cannot think of a time in my life when my God has not come through for me. Often times it has not been in the ways that I had wished at the time. But He always guided me through. And furthermore, I always find that his solution always yields greater results than mine. In an instance of particular emotional pain, my father once told me that sometimes it's ok to not be ok. Heartache is never pleasant. Loneliness is never enjoyable. But God is faithful. If it weren't for times of heartache, I would not be able to appreciate joy. If I had never felt loneliness, then I would not know how precious the friendships I have are. I often feel bad, because I am not good at orally verbalizing how much I appreciate people. My emotions are best conveyed through writing. So to anyone reading this: please know that your friendship means more to me than you can ever imagine. I feel so incredibly blessed to have you in my life. Even in times when I push you away, I always appreciate you. But I digress.

So that brings me to my current situation: scared and uncertain. But like I said, my God is faithful. I am learning to understand that there may be a time in the near future when I will not have any job opportunities. I may have to be ok with not being ok. But that's ok. Because I serve a big God, and I serve a loving God. He will provide. He already has. He's provided me an awesome family. He's provided me an incredible group of friends. If I stay in Richmond, I'm ok with that. If I move to Newport News, I'm ok with that. If I have to move to Charlottesville, I will eventually be ok with that. If I have to move to Northern Virginia, I will learn to be ok with that. If I have to move out of Virginia, I will not be ok with that, but God will bring to to a point where I am. I'm scared, but I trust my family. I'm uncertain, but I trust my friends. I'm apprehensive, but I trust my God. Because hindsight is 20/20, and they have always seen me through it. I'm ok with not being ok for a time.

Mobile Friendship

For some people, 7+ hours in a car can be maddening. When you're range of motion is limited to a radius of about two feet in any direction for hours on end, it doesn't take much to make one irritable. However, the older I get, the more I find that enjoy road trips. When I was a young child, the 5 1/2 hour (6 1/2 after numerous stops my mom required) trip from Richmond to Ocean Isle in North Carolina might as well have been the equivalent of a cross-country expedition. After a while, I would get tired of all my Gameboy games and count the minutes til we would be at the beach. Over the past year, however, I have developed a new-found appreciation of long car trips. I love my parents very much, but they do not make great travel companions. As I make more trips with my friends and peers, I am beginning to see how much of a positive impact these trips can have on a friendship.

The first of the experiences that influenced this reflection came in mid-July. While at school, I meet on a semi-regular basis with three of my closest friends here at school (Tim Powitz, Justin Ferry, and Brendan McElroy) to share what's going on in our lives. This has served to strengthen our friendship into one that I am certain will last for the remainder of our lives. However, it is hard for us to spend time with each other when we are not at school, as Justin lives here in Hampton, Tim and I live in Richmond, and Brendan lives all the way in New Jersey. In order to remedy the situation, Tim, Justin and I decided we would brave the treacherous lands of Washington D.C., Baltimore, and Philadelphia to visit Brendan for a few days. While the visit itself was incredible, it is a topic for another post, as I want to focus on the trip up and back. For the first time in months, Justin, Tim and I were able to just hang out and talk without having to worry about conflicting schedules. Because the three of us are such close friends, we were able to be real and vulnerable with one another. It is in these types of conversations that I am most able to see God work in my life. I saw what it meant to have people care about my life and had the opportunity to convey the same thing to them. I don't believe we would have had this opportunity had it not been for the metal and plastic confines of Justin's faded red Stratus.

One month later, I undertook another lengthy car ride. This time, I traveled with my long time friend, Kevin Jones. We had talked all summer of gather our friends and making a road trip down to Atlanta to see our beloved Braves play in their home stadium. Come time for the trip, the only ones who who could go were Kevin and I. As I mentioned above, Kevin and I have been friends for a long time. We grew up together attending Mount Vernon Baptist Church. When I was a freshman in high school, Kevin invited me to be a part of the praise band he was putting together, which would later become Little Man Ministries. However, as good of friends as Kevin and I are, I have always been closer to his younger brother, Ryan. Ryan and I have been great friends since our days in the RAs at church. Being an only child, I've always seen Kevin and Ryan as the brothers I've never had. Kevin was the older brother that I looked up to, but was kind of afraid to hang around to much lest I become an annoyance to him. It was awesome to finally get a chance to hang out just with Kevin. Because Kevin and I both have goofy senses of humor, the soundtrack of the trip consisted mainly of stand-up comedians, which had us in stitches for hours. The time that wasn't spent laughing along to the likes of Christopher Titus and Brian Regan, however, was filled with good, heart-felt conversation. For once, I had an opportunity to talk about things things that really mattered; things like spirituality, relationships, and the future in general. Kevin is an incredibly intelligent guy, and his devotion to the Lord is a rarity. I've always considered Kevin as a mentor of sorts, so the time that I got to spend with him on a one-on-one basis was a true privilege. In hindsight, I can think of few better places to have such an interaction with him than in a place where distractions are few and obligations fade away.

This past January, I made the trip to New Jersey for a second time. This time, however, there were more people present. Once again, I rode with Tim, but this time we were accompanied by our friends Anne Taylor Robertson and Mary Margaret Pike (my friend, Tim's girlfriend). I've been friends with Anne Taylor and Mary Margaret since we were freshman. However, in case you are unaware, I am very introverted. That's not to say that I don't enjoy being around people, because that could not be further from the truth. What it does mean, however, is that it takes me a little while to be comfortable with people. When I do become comfortable with someone, though, I am very loyal. Throughout the first three years we've been at school and participated in Young Life together, I've always considered them to be friends. However, I always felt a bit awkward in interacting with them. It must be known that this is no consequence of their doing, but rather just the way my social skills are wired. They have been nothing but welcoming, I'm just jacked up (kidding, kidding). This car trip, however, gave me the opportunity to hang out with them for an extended period of time. We were sort of forced (I don't like the word, though, because it has negative connotations) to engage in conversation. Although most of the conversation was surface level conversation, I really enjoyed it. I learned so much about them in that time than I have in any past interaction. By the end of the trip, I felt that our friendship had evolved from being friends in the sense that we hung out on occasion, to friends in the sense that I valued their company.

Friendship is an incredible thing. Life is more enjoyable when you have someone to share it with. However, friendship development requires time spent together. In the life of a college student, this time is hard to come by, as schedules seem to be overflowing with plans and obligations. When we finally find time to spend with friends, our environments are so full of external stimuli that quality time is often swept from under our feet. Sometimes, I have found, the only way to develop a friendship is to choose a destination, choose a traveling mate, and drive.

Transcending the Kitchen

The smell of fresh cut grass. The feel of the lingering warmth of dusk in the air. The wonderful smell of cooking meet filling the nostrils. Welcome to the world of grilling. As I have have gotten older, I have found that I am developing a love of cooking out on the grill. There's just something about cooking meet under a charcoal or propane-generated flame that just makes you feel like a man. It's kind of funny though. For as long I can remember (and way before hand, as well), the roll of cooking has fallen on the woman. It has become a symbol of femininity to enjoy cooking. If you asked a man if he enjoys baking or preparing new recipes, chances are he will say "no". However, if you were to suggest that his wife (or any other woman, for that matter) prepare dinner on the grill, he will look at you like you have just asked to castrate him. I know this sounds incredibly chauvinistic, but I honestly believe that this is the way it is. Now, please don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that "the woman's place is in the kitchen" or any other sexist bullcrap like that. I am just saying that society tends to have the woman in the kitchen more of then than the male. Anyway, back to the subject at hand. After thinking about this for a while, I believe I have found the major components that separate the grill from the stove: four walls and a roof. Grilling brings together two things that men love: nature and meat. Men (most, at least)enjoy being outside! In a small way, it reminds us of the days when we lived and thrived in the wilderness. The smell of sizzling beef is reminiscent of the time when we hunted our own food, prepared it, and cooked it with our own hands. And there is just something about a big hunk of ground beef or a thick steak that just makes a man's taste buds on the verge of jumping out of his mouth. It makes us feel as that we've conquered the beast! The combination of taste and power creates a feeling in a man's soul that can be equaled by little else. So men, as we enter the summer months, I encourage you to fire up the grill and enjoy the experience that is cooking out. Get yourselves a package of burgers, a few steaks, a pack of brats, or some Ball Park hot dogs, and allow yourself to enjoy the great outdoors.

Hands Off!!

Any guitar player will tell you: his guitar(s) are positioned only below his God and his woman. Because of this, many single men hold their guitars in the esteem of a woman. Personally, I have five guitars that are by far my most prized possession. I have even gone so far as to name them:

"Yvonne" the Yamaha
"Carly" the Carlo Robelli
"Olivia" the OLP
"Emily" the Epiphone
"Autumn" the Fender (I know Autumn's name has nothing to do with her brand name, but she's my favorite and so she get's a special name, due to her color)

Anyway, on to the point of this explanation...

I think we can all agree: you NEVER put your hands on another man's woman in a disrespectful manner. Let's use a wedding reception as a pseudo-metaphor. Let's say I'm the groom. If a friend of mine whom I trust asks for a dance with the bride, I will most likely feel comfortable allowing it. Even if you aren't a skilled dancer, I will allow the dance, and even give you pointers on dancing (not necessarily always with my wife). However, if someone who I don't know, or who I don't trust fully around my new wife asks for a dance, I may allow it, but you can be certain that I will have a close eye on the goings-on. The second that I see said person disrespectfully handling my wife, you can be CERTAIN that it's not going to end well.

In the same way, you never handle a man's guitar without the care that is expected of you. This includes: carelessly strumming, violently plucking strings, knocking it against objects (tables, walls, etc.), banging on the guitar, or even mockingly pretending to play. If you are experienced in playing guitar, by all means, it is most likely acceptable to play another person's guitar ON THE CONDITION THAT YOU FIRST ASK. If you are in the process of learning to play guitar, it is still alright to ask to play someones guitar. They may even teach you a little of what they know.

The point is this: You WILL treat my guitars (and one day my girlfriend/fiancee/wife) with the respect she deserves!!!!