Cue Ball

Lewis, in The Screwtape Letters, discussed the entangled nature of spiritual and physical deeds. He argued, in a roundabout way, that kneeling was an important part of prayer. He reminded the reader that God doesn't hate physical matter; He made it. That particular passage in the book stuck with me because it ran so counter to much of what I had believed about the nature of this world. It's great when I find things like that - truths that rewrite my beliefs.

We are not solely physical, wholly emotional, singularly spiritual, nor only intellectual creatures. We are all of these things; and it's important that we address all aspects of our build when we consider how to grow and progress as human beings..

The other night, I was listening to "Fix You", by Coldplay. For some reason, I was listening to it as if I'd never heard it before; and all the things I love about the song were doubled in their impact. My heart was swelling inside my chest and my mind was full of all the losses and hopes I had walked through in my life. (Sometimes, listening to music can been a cheesily spiritual experience. Who needs Benny Hinn when we have The Piano Guys?)

Suddenly, almost violently, my whole being became repulsed with my current existence. I was disgusted at how petty my daily life had become. I sleep longer, accomplish less, and do more damage to myself each day than I could possibly excuse. From my health to my attitude to my lack of ministry, the man that I am now is not the man I am trying to be, not by a long shot.

People who know me fairly well have seen rants like this before, ending with hopeful declarations about how much I plan on changing. The problem is that I am, essentially, at war with myself. The me who looks to the future and has bright hopes for all that could be is constantly foiled by the lazy bastard who sees the current moment and wants immediate gratification. The healthy man I could be has to fight of the hungers of the man I am. The strong man I could be has to tussle with the comforts enjoyed by the man I am. The courageous man I could be has to overcome the fears of the man I am.

No one has ever accused me of having my act together; if anyone did, it was because they didn't know me very well. They likely regretted saying so moments after the words had been aired. I am undisciplined in a lot of ways, prone to bouts of whimsy and seasons of un-motivation. Once I get a proper start on something, I can do it well; but, as I've noted in previous posts, it's getting started that feels like I'm dead-lifting a beluga. 
  
This battle of Isaac-the-Awesome and Isaac-the-Lazy-Bastard has become stale and discouraging; so, as I felt motivation, inspiration, and hope course through my heart to the beat of Australian pop , I knew I had to seize the moment and cement it somehow. I had to do something that would cause me to be constantly aware of the oath I was making to myself, something that would be inescapable.  I needed a tombstone for the lazy bastard and a starting point for Isaac 3.0. You know, the one after he met Jesus. The one where he became a missionary, through and through.

So, naturally, I shaved my head. 

It wasn't just a close buzz cut. I used a Bic razor.

It wasn't just the top of my head, either. My face is bare, too.

It made and makes perfect sense to me; but no one I've tried explaining this to seems to agree on that point. My attempts at sharing the thought have been mostly met with bewilderment. In part, I believe it's because people are too weirded out by the sound of my voice coming from a fifteen year-old overweight skinhead. The rest of it, I think, may be due to the fact that most people make drastic changes to their appearance for cosmetic reasons; and this is anything but.

Throughout history, hair styles have been symbolic of lifelong oaths and disciplines. Soldiers in China had their ponytails, Samson had his Nazarite vow, monks had their bald spots, and so on. My haircut was along those lines; and I believe it was an important moment in this strange path I am walking. I understand, however, the reactions I've been getting.

I don't look that great right now. Most people have tried to be kind; but their initial facial expressions give away their distaste. My closer friends have been a bit more blunt: I've been compared to Gru from "Despicable Me", Uncle Fester from "The Addams Family", and the Idaho potato mascot. And I can't really argue with any of the comparisons. Even I had to give myself a few days to become more comfortable with the mirror.

But my appearance isn't the point. The point is that, because my physical self is tangled up with my spiritual self, I sometimes have to resort to physical changes to give my spiritual endeavors a chance. The same is true with my intellectual and emotional self. Sometimes, I have to make myself feel the ideas I want to learn. Or I have to contemplate the issues my heart has already spoken on. Sometimes, I have to do before I let myself think. (But only sometimes.)

The hairless Isaac in the mirror is a representation of a new Isaac being formed. It's a picture of who I am trying to be. It's a fresh start, where a new beard will replace the old one, and the head will likely stay bald - because the entire point of a fresh start is that we mean to leave behind the former life.

-isaac