7/52 and in that moment, i felt finite

At the ripe young age of 12, I realized life wasn't worth living. I had an unhealthy obsession with Camus. If we, like Sisyphus, expend all our time and energy focusing on our own burdens and hills, then life is indeed meaningless. It nearly drove me to the only rational conclusion for such a philosophy. One night I found myself gazing into the vast night sky. Seeing all the stars dispersed in that infinite space underscored my finitude. And it was in that moment of profound insignificance that I found hope.

Because unlike Sisyphus, we are not necessarily consigned to a futile task. We have a choice. We can be like him. We can choose to focus on the boulder immediately before us, on the great heights to be scaled. But in the end, it will all fall down; we will have toiled for nothing. Or we can allow a truly meaningful purpose capture our lives.

We can take our focus off the boulder immediately before us and instead focus on the rest of the world surrounding us. I don't think any of us can change the world. Even Obama can't. But I do think all of us are capable of at least changing someone else's world.

"When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, what is man that you are mindful of him, the son of man that you care for him?" - Psalm 8:3-4, NIV

4/52 true north

The Marshallese used to use these stick charts for navigating the seas. By aligning the cowrie shells with stars in constellations, they could orient themselves and figure out in which direction to head.

I used to want a map and directions for life. Having attended a vocational high school, I felt like one of those few, unfortunate individuals that hadn't figured out the rest of my life by the time I hit "adulthood." Everyone else seemed to know precisely where they wanted to go and exactly how to get there. Almost five years have elapsed and I am no closer to having it all mapped out. But I've learned to be okay with that, because I've realized the specific checkpoints and destinations are not so important as the right direction.

A map isn't necessary and it isn't always fool-proof. Unexpected detours can force you into uncharted territory. But if you can properly orient yourself and establish true north, you can always find your way again.

"You don't have to know a lot of things for your life to make a lasting difference in the world...The people that make a durable difference in the world are not the people who have mastered many things, but who have been mastered by a few great things... All you have to know are a few, great, majestic, unchanging, obvious, simple, glorious things, and be set on fire by them." - John Piper

resolved: to not waste this gift

I haven't made a New Year's resolution in years because I don't believe January 1st makes me any more likely to keep a resolution than July 13th. But when you have that mentality, you're supposed to make resolutions whenever they come to mind, regardless of the date-- and I haven't resolved to do anything in over a year. So when my friend sat me down and forced me to write some resolutions for the new year, it was long overdue. 

This one didn't make it to the original draft, but while taking the thousandth picture of my mom and grandma yesterday, I resolved to finally put my Christmas gift (from 2011) to good use. And in the process, to resharpen the writing skills that have grown rather dull over the past few years. 

I don't think my life is nearly exciting enough to capture on all 365 days, so I'm sticking to 54-- one for every week. 

I think it's only appropriate that a geek like me starts with a picture of a book. It's a novel that I finished a couple weeks ago, but pulled off the shelf because it seemed that important. Because, as we usher in another year, this book reminds me to begin with the end in mind. It's one of Stephen Covey's 7 Habits of Highly Effective People, and it's a message that never gets old and never diminishes in importance. 

As a young 20-something, I'm often tempted to believe that my time is infinite, that there will be ample opportunity to invest in relationships-- after investing in my education, career, etc. But it simply isn't true. The year I turned 19, the day I came into the world also became the day that a friend left it. Like me, he had no reason to believe he wasn't going to wake up the next morning. And that's why the central theme of this book is so important. We don't know any better when we are going to die than we know when the world is actually going to end. Sure, there are fancy models that can determine your life expectancy given the right inputs. But life is full of the unexpected. 

Usually when we think of deadlines, they are hard set; we have an exact date. And yet even in those cases where we know precisely when our tasks must be complete, we find ourselves rushing to meet the deadline. We come dangerously close to not finishing all we set out to do. As a Christian, it's an especially frightening prospect. Our actions or inaction in this life could have eternal consequences. Death marks the end of this life, but it also marks the beginning of forever. With that in mind, I can think of no better advice than that offered by Og Mandino: "Beginning today, treat everyone you meet as if they were going to be dead by midnight. Extend to them all the care, kindness, and understanding you can muster, and do it with no thought of any reward. Your life will never be the same again"

bucket list

A good friend recently surprised me with a journal of sorts, in which every entry has been predetermined. It satisfies my obsession with structure, unlike my actual journal, which is more like a jumbled mess of incoherent thoughts. Only once in a blue moon do I have those serious introspective reflections. (There was actually a blue moon this year.)

Today's list is the bucket list-- the list of things I want to do before I die. Only that's not what it says. The exact words are, "List the things you must do before you die" (emphasis added).

I appreciated the irony, seeing as some people think the world is going to end today. I don't. (I don't think it's going to end for at least another few centuries, unless the Church starts caring about missions more. I think Christians are supposed to be hastening Jesus' return, not wasting their time trying to predict the day. But I digress.) Nevertheless, it seemed like an appropriate list for today.

You see, I used to have a bucket list. I wrote it the week after my high school graduation because I had so many regrets accumulate over those four short years. Some time later, I threw it away. I've written a lot of stupid journal entries over the years, many of which I hope no one ever reads. But for some reason, that list was the only entry I ever felt compelled to tear out and throw away.

It wasn't like it was an entirely nonsensical list; there were arguably worthwhile pursuits. Like sponsor a child. Go on a medical mission. Buy a new kitchen for my mom. But those were far outnumbered by the stupid items. Like complete a 2000-piece puzzle. And lots of travel. Maybe I've just been reading too much of Randy Alcorn, but I now realize how those plans for traveling were so inconsistent with Christian beliefs. If I believe in eternity and a new heaven and a new earth, why should I waste my time flying around in crowded airplanes to see places that have been marred by human hands? Why not just wait until I can teleport and see everything in its full splendor and majesty?

Earlier this semester, I told my friend that I didn't understand why God chose Israel. They were so hard-headed and arrogant, I quipped. "How could anyone possibly be that stupid?" I'd asked. Looking back now, I am amused and slightly appalled at the irony. I am just as sinful, just as arrogant, just as slow to learn, just as quick to forget. God chose Israel for the same reason he chose me. The same reason he chose any human being at all-- because he is a God of grace.

A few days ago, a friend shared the story of the Parthian shot:

"Tomorrow, there will be an archery competition to find out the best archer," Drona said. "When the sun climbs over the horizon, be ready with your bows and arrows."

The students polished their bows. They sharpened their arrows. Next morning they gathered in the yard. Glossy bows and pointed arrows gleamed in the sun. The wind was still but the students' hearts fluttered with excitement. Drona stepped out. In his hands was a bird made of clay. He laid it on a tree far from them.

"See that clay bird perched on the tree ahead of us? Aim at its eye," he said. Then he called the first student. The student plucked an arrow from the quiver, placed it on the bow, and pulled the string. "What do you see ahead of you?" Drona asked. "I see the sun, the clouds, the trees," the student replied as he released the string. The arrow shot forward and landed yards away from the tree.

The second student took his position. He plucked an arrow from his quiver, placed it on the bow, and pulled the string. "What do you see ahead of you?" Drona asked. "I see the tree, the branches, the leaves," the student replied as he released the string. The arrow shot forward and landed near the roots of the tree.

The next student came forward, plucked an arrow from his quiver, placed it on the bow, and pulled the string. "What do you see ahead of you?" Drona asked. "I see the bird, its legs, its wings," the student replied as he let the string go. The arrow shot forward and grazed the wings of the bird.

Finally it was Arjuna's turn. He plucked an arrow from his quiver, placed it on the bow, and pulled the string. "What do you see ahead of you?" Drona asked. "I see the eye of the bird," Arjuna replied. "What else do you see, Arjuna?" Drona asked. "Nothing. I see only the round black eye of the bird," Arjuna replied as he released the string. The arrow shot forward with a swoosh. It pierced the center of the eye of the clay bird.

By the second student, I'd figured out the moral and the ending. But this in no way diminished the significance of the story. It still drove home the conviction that in the years intervening between this one and the one during which I trashed that list, I've lost focus. I don't think I've ever had that perfect, singular focus, but there was a time when it was closer to the target than it is now.

As I reflect on this and other recent events, I realize this list is not going to be a list. Because there's only one target. There's only one thing I must do before I die: please Jesus.

There are a lot of lists in this book that I wish I could write more for. But I hope this list never grows for me. I hope it never expands beyond what is truly important. And even though it's not a list if there's only one item, it's an important one to reflect on regularly. It's important to think about death, because we don't know any better when we're going to die than when the world's really going to end.