My friend/pastor Sam asked me to write an article for our outreach ministry's newsletter. I got a bit carried away and , while he liked the content of what I wrote, he feared it would be longer than a newsletter could allow. I'm working on an abridged version of this letter for that purpose. In the meantime, Sam asked me to put the full version somewhere for others to read. So, here goes.
My friends:
I am passionate about many things - some of them might surprise you. Soccer, for instance. I love playing soccer. I hardly look the sort; my physique alone speaks volumes to my lack of practice in recent years. Still, the game holds a special place in my heart.
I am passionate about writing and human communication in general. I love to read, to ponder and study etymology , to learn about even body language and how much we say without speaking.
I am passionate about music, art and theatre.
I am passionate about Uganda: though it's been more than a year and a half since I returned from a six-month mission to that country, not a day has passed in which I have failed to talk, think or pray about that place.
I am passionate about outreach and volunteerism.
I am passionate about minimalism, discovering true masculinity and integrity.
I am deeply passionate about the people in my life. The list of folks I would fight and die for is longer than I ever thought it would be.
I am passionate about changing the world. My supreme passions are God and His Word.
Few people know about most of these "passions "- that so many things are important to me in a way that effects me daily. Why is that? Why do even people who are close to me see so little of what I love to do and who I want to be? Because, for some reason, I don't involve myself in most of it.
There is one passion that I'd like to share with you. Honestly, I think it is this passion, which I had once, lost and am trying to regain, that will help me change how I behave regarding my other obsessions: I am passionate about impassioned living.
This began with my dad, the same year I accepted Christ.
In 2000, my dad took a job teaching at a small Christian school in Woodland, Wa. It just so happened that I was the right age to be in his class. Thus began 180 days of steady indoctrination on a number of heartwarming and impractical hippie sentiments.
Imagine, if you will, the classroom where "Little House on the Prairie" meets "Dead Poets Society". I learned things like,"History is messy", "Math is not about numbers" and how to say "Happy birthday" in an unreasonable number of languages. I learned about walking by faith. I learned that the best way to choose a job is by assuming money is no object and that the best way to ace a job interview is to ask the interviewer why you should work for him. My dad made street preaching sound glamorous and money sound unnecessary. My parents met in YWAM; so all these heartwarming and impractical hippie sentiments were backed with a litany of personal experiences in faraway settings.
The year I met Jesus, the world I lived in was full of more possibility and magic than anything Disney's best minds have conjured thus far.
With zeal like napalm, I blazed a haphazard path into the teenage-pastor scene. I wore a blazer, white shirt and tie to school most days in the following few years. I practiced my swordplay with a NKJV Scoffield study Bible. I made a wonderful mess of things, feverishly trying to incite revival among the Vancouver Christian High freshmen. Then, at Cornerstone in Kelso, I made a quick, though not always good, impression. At church, I took on as much responsibility as I could and made it clear to everyone: I was out to change the world.
The wildfire lasted a whole two years. When I was sixteen, a series of heart-rending events tamed me. The deaths of my mother and grandfather, followed shortly by the ending of a relationship with a girl I'd gone nuts about, quickly sucked the magic out of my world.
I hate the word "disillusioned". I hate it because the very pieces of the word make the assumption that, when everything is wonderful, when the world seems bright and the winds seem to be in your favour, you are under an illusion. You're being duped.
"Disillusioned" makes the cruel and pompous claim that, when your dreams are dashed and your heart is halved, the illusion is gone and whatever grimy, weeping pieces remain are the reality.
Baloney.
I wasn't disillusioned: When my world went dark, my vision became more, not less, clouded.
Though my faith in God wasn't shaken, I developed a habit that I've come to call "floating". Life had shown me that I couldn't expect much from it; so I stopped expecting things from life. I just leaned back and let all the chaos move past me.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying that every moment between the ages of seventeen and now was completely void of any passion whatsoever. I had moments, and even seasons, of intense zeal. God is faithful to work in broken hearts. The worst of my heartaches were even washed away in a single Sunday a few years back.
But passion ceased to be a lifestyle for me.
That brings us to the present.
In some ways, "floating" has served me well. I am still able to roll with most punches, allowing the storms of life to move around me. I don't strive against things I cannot control; and I don't have the sense of entitlement that has become a stereotype of my generation.
Unfortunately, "floating" is passive by nature; so I have not really accomplished as much as I ought to have in the past few years. Instead of living, I have allowed life to happen around me. I have pondered and adjusted to change instead of affecting change in a world which so badly needs to be impacted.
If life is an archery range, then wisdom is aim. Passion is the tension on the bowstring. The target is your calling. When I started, my aim was terrible; but I was shooting far. It's not hard to see how this is dangerous. Since then, I have gotten better aim; but the arrows I loose rarely go anywhere. This seems innocuous; but when life stops being an archery range and starts being a battlefield, being innocuous is as deadly as anything else.
If I'm really honest, I'll admit that two things have kept me from moving forward.
One is fear. I am often afraid of failing or feeling like an idiot. I mean, why write a book if it's unlikely anyone will want to publish it? Why play soccer? No one wants to watch a fat man play soccer!
The other is laziness. Going to watch a play would be fun and more enriching; but a "Burn Notice" marathon is cheaper and requires less dressing up. Just considering a long stretch in Uganda sets my heart ablaze; but that means saving a bunch of money, which means working more and hunting to find better-paying work.
On the other hand, in the moments when I take action, when I feel short rushes of the passion that once pervaded my life, I like what happens. I like who I am when I am on fire. I like how whether I fail or look stupid stops mattering because my life is not about me at all. So how I appear is a moot point. I like how difficult or uncomfortable things become nearly enjoyable because I can almost feel the growth and maturity those things affect in me.
My dad serves a God who's into heartwarming and impractical hippie sentiments. "Go do things humans don't do. Heal the sick. Survive poisonous snake bites. Give serious thought to selling everything you have and serving the poor. Sign up for a mission you have no money for; don't be too surprised if someone pays for you at the last minute. If a man breaks into your house in the middle of the night, offer him coffee. Love everybody; but don't fear any of them. Live as though money is no object; I can clothe you and feed you. Be about My business because it's the most important thing you can do with a life."
So, the real question is: is this also the God I serve?
If so, it seems He has built me for soccer, for language, for music and art and theatre. It seems He has built me for Uganda, for reaching out to people and volunteering my time, my money, my heart and prayers. Unless I have misunderstood something, He has put all these passions in me to burn, like sacrifices, before Him and unto His glory. He has designed me for the good works He prepared ahead of time.
If the God of Abraham and Jacob is also the God of Isaac, then I was not built to only ride the waves, but to make waves of my own! I am meant to do world-changing things, not in moments or seasons, but on a daily basis!
Rediscovering the white-hot zeal that once consumed me is about more than replacing lost passion. It's about repairing the physical, emotional and spiritual damage done by passive living. I do not want to lose my ability to accept the world as it is, to expect nothing from life except what God has promised. I like that I am resilient and flexible. However, I need to lose the insecurities and laziness. I need the Spirit of God to set me aflame. I need to make a lot of changes to myself so that I can better serve the world at large.
It seems that I have a long way to go; but God seems to have started something already.
-isaac
