Winning And Losing

I hate losing.

 

I'm hugely competitive and, although I'm nowhere near as bad as I used to be, I will still probably sulk for a while if I lose a board game or a card game.

 

I have been thinking about this a lot over the past few days, as I have realised that a lot of my competitiveness links in with a desire to be the best, to always be number one.  To be the winner.  And so I feel insecure when I think I am in competition with someone else and I might not win.

 

But over the last day or so, God has been showing me how I don't need to see myself as competing with anyone. 

 

In the competition for being me, I win.

 

Paul reminds us of this in Romans when he writes,

"So since we find ourselves fashioned into all these excellently formed and marvelously functioning parts in Christ’s body, let’s just go ahead and be what we were made to be, without enviously or pridefully comparing ourselves with each other, or trying to be something we aren’t."

 

[Romans 12:6 MSG] 

 

Rather than looking to the people around me and comparing myself to them, or feeling as though I am competing with them, I want to discover what it really means to be me.  I want to know what it means to be the person that God made me to be and I want to grow more and more into that person.

 

 

 

The Hurt And The Healing

This evening I have been to watch a contemporary dance performance which considered the themes of loss and reconstruction following loss.

 

It was a fascinating portrayal of how loneliness can feel and how other people are essential in carrying us through times of bereavement and in helping us to restructure our lives.

 

There were six dancers in the piece and each one of them, at one point in the performance, was the 'odd one out' - the one by themselves.  The one dancing alone.  The one who was experiencing loss of some kind.

 

They each had a moment of dancing solo.

 

But then the other five would come and gather around them and physically support and strengthen them.  They would dance alongside them and lift and carry them.

 

It was a beautiful image.

 

And it was another wonderful picture of what God imagines the church to be like.

 

Paul writes,

 

"The way God designed our bodies is a model for understanding our lives together as a church: every part dependent on every other part, the parts we mention and the parts we don’t, the parts we see and the parts we don’t.  If one part hurts, every other part is involved in the hurt, and in the healing.  If one part flourishes, every other part enters into the exuberance."

 

[1 Corinthians 12:25-26 MSG]

 

I love that line: every other part is involved in the hurt, and in the healing. 

 

In the same way that the dancers in tonight's performance were all involved in each other's hurt and healing, this is what God envisions and longs for in His church.

 

 

 

 

Everyone Has A Part To Play

Two nights ago I went to a concert performed by the Philharmonic orchestra.  It was completely wonderful.

 

We were really close to the musicians and I loved watching all of them following their music and working together to create a beautiful harmony.

 

It was really interesting to focus on one group of musicians at a time and to watch them closely: they would often sit still for minutes at a time with no notes to play.  But they still followed the music, waiting for their parts and they were as much a part of the performance as anyone else.

 

I found this particularly fascinating with the triangle player ('Triangulist'?).  He sat through the first two movements of the symphony without moving or playing a single note.  But as the third movement began, he started to play.  I loved seeing how he felt just as much a part of the performance as did the rest of the musicians.  He was engaged with what was going on and was proud of his part.

 

Everyone had a part to play.

 

If they had all played the same thing at the same time, the music would certainly have been loud, but it would also have been dull.  It was the harmonising, overlapping, complementary sounds which enriched the performance.

 

In the same way, the church is like this.  Everyone has their own part to play, their own role to fulfil.  Sometimes this can mean being in the limelight; at other times it will mean sitting quietly and watching someone else playing their part.  Sometimes we will be the soloist, the centre of attention, at other times our role will be to support.

 

Paul's description of the church like a body is useful for us here,

"A body isn’t just a single part blown up into something huge.  It’s all the different-but-similar parts arranged and functioning together.  If Foot said, “I’m not elegant like Hand, embellished with rings; I guess I don’t belong to this body,” would that make it so?  If Ear said, “I’m not beautiful like Eye, limpid and expressive; I don’t deserve a place on the head,” would you want to remove it from the body?  If the body was all eye, how could it hear?  If all ear, how could it smell?  As it is, we see that God has carefully placed each part of the body right where he wanted it.  But I also want you to think about how this keeps your significance from getting blown up into self-importance.  For no matter how significant you are, it is only because of what you are a part of.  An enormous eye or a gigantic hand wouldn’t be a body, but a monster.  What we have is one body with many parts, each its proper size and in its proper place.  No part is important on its own."

 

[1 Corinthians 12:14-20 MSG]

 

No matter what our strengths and weaknesses, we all have a part to play.  No part is important on its own.

 

 

What Do I Really Want?

I always find it difficult compiling a list of suggested presents for my birthday or Christmas.  Not because I can't think of things, but because I can think of too many things and I feel the need to narrow the list down, so as not to look too greedy.

 

It is easy to make a long list of all sorts of frivolous things that I would like. Things which would feel like a treat, because I don't really need them but they're pretty. Or things which I do need, but can't really afford.

 

I find myself asking What do I really want?  

 

Jesus asks us the same thing.

 

John recounts how John the Baptist's followers saw Jesus one day and started following him.

 

"Turning around, Jesus saw them following and asked, 'What do you want?'”

[John 1:38 NIV]

 

And He asks us the same thing.  What do you want?

To know He exists?  To know He cares?  To know forgiveness?  To be able to forgive?  To feel loved?  To have a new job, or a new car, or a new house?  To have more money?  To move beyond just surviving?

 

Often, we don't know what we really want.  Or we don't want to admit what we really want.  Especially as Christians - sometimes our 'wants' can seem not 'Christian' enough. 

But Jesus sees into the heart of things and He wants us to share our dreams and our desires with Him, regardless of how 'Christian' they might seem.

 

Paul urges us to share our whole hearts with God:

 

"Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done."

[Philippians 4:6 NLT]

 

So, what do you really want?

 

 

 

Creativity and Perfection

I love all creative things.  I love creating.

 

I have listened to a fascinating talk this evening by Julie Burstein about creativity and the tension in creativity between what we can control and what we have to let go of.

 

She describes how when we are creative, we can't control everything - we have to let go of some things.  If we have a strict idea of what we want to achieve and what we want our creativity to look like, we will restrict ourselves and our creativity.

 

Creativity and perfectionism are often enemies.

 

I remember in Art GCSE at school my Art teacher telling us how she had been at a workshop and each person had to paint something.  They were asked to pause after about 20 minutes and share with the rest of the group which part of their painting they liked the most.

 

They all proudly pointed out which bits they thought were best and explained why.

 

And then the tutor asked them to paint over those perfect parts - to wipe them away - and to continue painting.

 

You can imagine my teacher's feelings as she was asked to paint over what she perceived to be the best part of her work.

 

But she said that after wrestling with the idea, when she did finally paint over the 'perfect' bit, she was much freer in her painting.  She wasn't limited or restricted by trying to make the rest of the painting as 'perfect' as the small bit she was proud of.

 

If we hold on to the idea of doing something (anything) perfectly, it will stand in the way of real creativity.  We will tiptoe around the perfect bits, scared to disrupt or ruin them.

 

Scott Adams says,

"Creativity is allowing yourself to make mistakes."

 

Or perhaps we could say, Creativity is allowing yourself the freedom to be less than perfect.

 

As someone who has spent a long time trying (and obviously failing) to be perfect, this is so freeing.  I want to be creative, I want to be free to make mistakes.

 

Paul urged the Galatian church,

"Christ has set us free to live a free life. So take your stand!  Never again let anyone put a harness of slavery on you."

 

[Galatians 5:1 MSG]

 

Even something as seemingly good as perfection can become a form of slavery.

 

Let's not let our drive for 'perfection' strip us of our God-given, messy, colouring-outside-the-lines creativity.

 

 

 

 

When I Am Weak, Then I Am Strong

I love painting my nails.

 

I love painting them with vibrant colours and soft pastel hues.  I love transforming something ordinary into something colourful and beautiful.  And I find it really relaxing and satisfying and indulgent - if only for 10 minutes.

 

But the problem with painting your nails is that pretty soon after you are done, they smudge or chip or flake.  Even if the nail varnish claims to be 'fast-drying' or 'chip-resistant' or 'hard-wearing'.  Unless you don't use your hands at all after you have painted your nails, you can pretty much guarantee that they are going to chip.

 

And when they're chipped, they never look as good.  Yes, there's still a trace of the colour left and a trace of your effort in painting them, but it almost looks worse than if you hadn't painted them at all.

 

And then there's the question of whether you keep painting over the chips and filling in all of the blank bits, or just surrender to fate and wipe it all away.

 

In the same way, I sometimes find when I start something new and it fails, or doesn't go the way I want it to, I'm faced with the question of whether to keep painting over the cracks, or to wipe away every trace of my trying.

 

I don't want people to see the cracked, chipped, messy bits - I want to paint over them and keep up a perfect appearance.

 

But that is neither real, nor possible.

 

I wrote yesterday about life - real life - being messy and far from the perfection that so many of us chase.  In the same way, when I paint my nails, I would love for them to stay perfect and unchipped, but it's not a real reflection of life. 

 

Paul writes in Corinthians about an occasion where he prayed to ask God to remove something from his life, which he felt was a weakness - an imperfection:

"He [God] said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.  That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties.  For when I am weak, then I am strong."

 

 [2 Corinthians 12:9-10 NIV] 

 

For when I am weak, then I am strong.

 

Instead of never painting my nails, or frantically repainting over the cracks and chips every time they appear, I will continue to paint my nails and enjoy the colour they bring. But when they chip and flake, I will be reminded of my weaknesses and the fact that I don't need to hide them or cover them up. And I will be reminded of the fact that I am not perfect. And that is a good thing. 

 

For His power is made perfect in my imperfect weakness. 

 

 

 

 

 

Stripping Off

I'm travelling today and have had to pack very lightly as I'm going to be trekking across London with my luggage.

I've posted before about how I'm not very good/awful at packing light and only taking the bare minimum, but knowing that I'd have to carry it all this weekend has made me re-evaluate what I've packed.

I have got rid of everything that might hinder me and weigh me down.

The writer of Hebrews encouraged his readers to do the same in a spiritual sense, too.

"Let us strip off every weight that slows us down, especially the sin that so easily trips us up. And let us run with endurance the race God has set before us."

[Hebrews 12:1 NLT]

Whilst I have no intention of running anywhere today (unless I am close to missing my trains), I want to run the race that God has set out before me.

And I want to be able to run without feeling hindered or held back or restricted in any way.

I need to adopt the same approach to my spiritual 'luggage' as I have taken with my literal luggage today. I need to get rid of the things which I don't need in my life, but which I seem to lug around with me.

I need to strip them away.

Backtracking

Life is a journey.  Apparently.

 

Sometimes I feel as though I am travelling backwards.  I take the occasional step forward, but my journeying seems to be predominantly backwards.  I am treading over old ground, I am returning to the past.  I am asking old questions, I am revisiting old doubts, I am digging up old wounds and insecurities.

 

All of this feels like a waste of time, and it is frustrating because I feel as though I am moving further away from the horizon. 

 

I want to move forwards.

 

But sometimes, in order to move forward, we need to go over old ground.

 

Sometimes we need to go backwards to get enough of a run-up for the future.  In the same way that athletes prepare themselves for a long jump by walking backwards to get to a good place from which to launch themselves, we sometimes have to backtrack too.

 

That doesn't mean that we relive the past, or become who we were in the past, or repeat the mistakes of the past.  But sometimes in our haste to move forwards, we bury the past and hide it - we don't really deal with it.  And in order to move forwards, we need to properly unearth it and deal with it, so that we can stop carrying the burden of it in the present. 

 

We can leave the past in the past.

 

Paul urged his readers to forget the past and press on to the future.  But we can only forget the past and lay it to rest if we have dealt with it.  If we bury the past alive, it will always catch up with us.

"Forgetting the past and looking forward to what lies ahead, I press on to reach the end of the race and receive the heavenly prize for which God, through Christ Jesus, is calling us."

[Philippians 3:13 NLT]

 

Sometimes going over the past feels like a waste of time.  Sometimes it feels painful and pointless.

 

But if we want to jump far and take a leap of faith, we need a run-up.  And if we want a good run-up, we need to backtrack.