Squiggly Image

"Oh, this one's going to be hard..."

Years ago, my family was playing a game of Pictionary with some friends from church, and it was my son Christopher's turn to do the drawing.  Pictionary is a guessing game that is similar to charades, where one person draws pictures to provide clues to a secret word or phrase that others must guess correctly as quickly as possible.  As an example, if the word is "chicken", the person who knows the word will try to draw a chicken, while the others blurt out what they think is being drawn until someone says "chicken!".  Sometimes the word or phrase is easy (most people know how to draw a chicken), but others can be practically impossible, and requires all the creativity and imagination that one can muster.  It appeared that my son would have to pull out some trick out of his sleeves for this one.

Tension filled the air as the timer went off.  Suddenly my son's eyes brightened as he approached the large piece of paper.  He drew what looked like a canoe.

"A boat!  No, a ship...a dinghy...an aircraft carrier!"  I started to yell mindlessly as the little vessel started to take shape.

He shook his head, and kept drawing.  Now he started to draw what appeared to be a person on the boat.

"Man on the boat...a sailor!  No, pirate?  Captain Hook?"

No luck so far, and the timer ticked on.  What could it possibly be?  Meanwhile, my son started to put some squiggly hair on the person's head, and drew a hat on top.

"George Washington!"

My son stopped drawing and fist-pumped into the air.  "Yes!  You got it!"

The air stood still for a second before everyone else in the room let out a collective gasp of shock and awe.  It seemed beyond understanding how I could correctly guess the words "George Washington" from the drawing of a person with squiggly hair and a hat standing on a boat.

"It wasn't that hard to figure out.  Chris was drawing Washington crossing the Delaware!"

It just happened that my son and I recently saw a reproduction of that famous 1851 Emanuel Leutze painting.  Chris' rendition of the man on the boat was not much closer to George Washington than Peter Pan or Alice in Wonderland, but a little intuition led me to the proper conclusion.  It was, albeit an imprecise one, an image of the first President of the United States of America.

In a way, we are all somewhat imprecise images.  On the sixth day of creation, when God created man, it was written,

So God created man in his own image
in the image of God he created him;
male and female he created them (Genesis 1:27)

Sometimes it's hard to imagine that there is much in us that reflects God in any way.  We are blemished, selfish, arrogant, shameful and without self control.  Some of us are tall, short, fat, skinny, funny looking or without fashion sense.  A well known pastor has often said that if you don't think that God has a sense of humor, just look at all the people around us.

Yet, despite all our shortcomings, each of us still bears God's communicable attributes.  God is beautiful and creative, and we enjoy the beauty of His creation.  God is righteous, and our conscience tells us what is right and wrong.  God is the source of life, and we value life and admire those who save lives.  God is community as a triune Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, and we are made not to be alone, but to live with those we love.

May we always remember to live our days as if we are created in God's image, though we may appear only as little squiggly lines when compared to our Creator.  May we also value each and every person, regardless of what we see, as someone who also bears His image in an unique way.

Running Unhindered

Runners tend to be a competitive lot. They want to outrun their friends, outrun their training partners, outrun their adversaries, and hopefully set PRs, or personal records, i.e., the fastest times ever for themselves at a particular distance. As I prepare for my 21^st marathon in a couple of weeks, I recognize that my PR days for the 26.2 mile distance (actually, 26.21875 miles, but who's counting?) are essentially over, as I am gradually getting slower with age, and that it takes many hours of training each week simply to maintain my current level of fitness. However, I continue to seek every possible advantage on race day to hopefully shave a few minutes or seconds off my time. I try to stay well hydrated during the days leading up to the race, watch what I eat, try my best not to get sick by washing my hands extra diligently, and get extra sleep. Most of all, I try to run as light as possible.

Studies have shown that most people will run noticeably faster if they lose excess weight, at least up to a certain point. If you don't believe this, try and run around the block with a couple of 10-pound dumbbells in your hands, and you will definitely not run as fast. I am about 5 ft 7 inches in height, and I normally will try to wake up on race morning weighing in at about 135 pounds, fully hydrated and carbo-loaded. This is my ideal racing weight based on experience, since excess weight will slow me down, and any further weight loss likely will mean that I am dehydrated and/or depleted.

Not only do I avoid carrying excess weight inside my love handles, I also try to carry as little weight as possible on me during races. I wear a quick-drying, lightweight polyester singlet (kind of like a tank top), the shortest, thinnest pair of shorts that doesn't get me arrested for lewdness, no-show socks, the lightest pair of running shoes that I can wear without causing injury, and my car key. I may not be fast, but I at least try to look the part. On the other hand, you can always spot the back-of-the-pack participants who plan to walk their 26.2 miles. They dress in layers, carry large bottles of sports drinks, pin several packages of energy gels and bars to their waists, are armed with cell phones and cameras, and are busy eating bananas and bagels to fortify themselves for the journey. Many carry backpacks. It is hard to be fast while collapsing under all that weight.

Similarly, our spiritual journey is often compared to a race, and in our pursuit of God's plans for our lives, we often weigh ourselves down with cares that hinder us. These may be material possessions (a larger house equals a bigger mortgage payment), misdirected passions (as an extreme example, there is a man whose sole purpose in life is to visit every Starbucks Coffee store), anxieties (oh, no, the Dodgers missed the playoffs), and fear. Each of us carry unnecessary burdens, and will feel relief by casting away some of these cares. In my case, I have discovered that this journey through life has become considerably less hectic after I intentionally neglect to check Facebook updates, receive live e-mail inbox notifications, follow up-to-the-minute stock market reports, and keep up with all the celebrities who are in drug rehab, and I only bother to check up on my beloved UCLA Bruins football team AFTER the games (they are playing lowly Washington State as I am typing this...if the Bruins lose I'll having something else to write about). The resulting freedom is quite liberating.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. (Hebrews 12:1)

Oboe Muscles, Prayer Muscles

I often wondered if I could have made it as a professional oboist. The saxophone was the first real musical instrument I learned that is not a piano, but it was through playing the oboe during high school that my potential to become a professional musician was recognized.  I entered high school not even knowing what an oboe looks or sounds like, but my band teacher took a chance on me, and offered to have me play the oboe in the orchestra, if I would audition for a scholarship with the saxophone, and use the money to pay for oboe lessons.  The convoluted plan came to fruition, and I soon understood the necessity for oboe lessons.  The oboe is generally regarded as the most difficult wind instrument to play, but my band teacher recognized something about me that fit the profile of an aspiring oboist.  His gamble paid off, and I became, over the course of three years, one of the better high school oboists in the state of California.

My band teacher’s dreams of my professional music career came to a halt when I chose to study biology in college, and my oboe playing ended after a one-year stint as a member of the school orchestra at UCLA.  I learned to play the guitar, and still managed to maintain my saxophone skills for a few years, but my oboe days were history.

I had frequently considered purchasing an used oboe since college, but waited until my mid-forties before yielding to the temptation. The vintage Linton oboe and reeds that I purchased online arrived in reasonable condition, and I was anxious to play it. The first few sounds were disconcerting – raspy, out of tune, and took every ounce of my breath and energy to produce, easy reminders of why the oboe is such a difficult wind instrument.  Weeks passed before squawking and squealing gave way to something that resembled musical tones, and it took a few more months before my playing improved to the point where my daughter, who was still in middle school, also became interested in the instrument.

Just as it takes practice to regain my “oboe muscles,” it takes time to develop “prayer muscles.”  Though never my strong suit, prayer was a significant part of my early Christian walk, and seeing God answering prayer in tangible ways reinforced my desire to pray regularly.  However, the cares of family and career took a hold on me, and my spiritual walk started to decline in regularity, frequency and vitality.  Prayer started to feel unnatural and uncomfortable.

It took several major crises in my mid-life years before I was shaken awake from my spiritual slumber, and I started to develop a renewed desire to study God’s word and know God.  My wife was involved in prayer ministry at church, and I felt drawn to participate in a prayer meeting for the first time in many years.  It felt awkward, as I was still not used to speaking with God, and was too self-conscious of what others thought about my prayers.  I claimed God as Lord of my life, but my claim was vacuous.  It took the passage of weeks for my “prayer muscles” to become strengthened, and conversation with God became less labored and more intimate.  I rediscovered that as a sinner redeemed by Christ, I am made to pray, just as I was made to play the oboe. It just takes practice, and with practice comes joy and freedom that is unfathomable to those who have not experienced them.

Prayer is not a spiritual gift given to only select members of the body of Christ – it is expected of each of us. Jesus instructed in the Sermon on the Mount and to His disciples, “When you pray...,” not “If you pray....” It is true that some are more “gifted” in prayer, particularly intercessory prayer; however, the person who diminishes the importance of prayer because he is not good at it is one who cuts himself off from the God who is the source of all existence, the God who gives us the privilege of participating in His divine ordained plan as instruments of His redemption and healing, of knowing His will, of worshiping with words of prayer that rises to His throne as fragrant incense. Prayer is spending time with God and communing with Him. Adam and Eve rejoiced in the presence of God until sin entered their lives, then they hid from Him. We no longer need to do so as Christians, but Satan will remind us of our sins not so that we will confess our sins, but so that we will flee from the face of God.

God does not need our prayer. He knows the end of the universe before it began, and he knows every thought in our hearts. But God wants us to pray, that we may align our wills with His, and that we can be active participants in His work. If we do not pray, He will use others for His glory while we atrophy into insignificance.  The apostle Paul knew a thing or two about prayer, and his command to the saints in Thessalonica included these simple words,

pray without ceasing, (1 Thessalonians 5:17)