Famous

It posters itself across our TV’s, radio’s, magazines, internet, and any other media form that exists: lives of the rich and famous. These people are coined as the most successful because their accomplishments and talents have produced the greatest recognition. These people have the greatest of lives, or so it seems, lives that even though most internally enhance, we envy nonetheless. A desire to be famous, that is, to be known among the celebrated, drives dreams, guides decisions, designs thoughts, and determines success.

What would make me great? What would make me known? Because it is in being known, that I am important. Becoming the best, in and how without significance, just achieving greatness is purposed. To be the best teacher, the best coach, the best son, friend, brother; these things plague me. Insecurity looking to become tangible confidence masks itself into arrogance and I begin to lose at the very things I set out to occupy. Never seeing victories, strengths or capabilities, it becomes tunnel-vision to the shortcomings and misgivings that make me less than, that prevent me from becoming the recognized. If am known, I am the best; if I am the best, I am the acclaimed, I am important.

           I lay flat on my floor, analyzing the weaknesses that I offer into the next phase of my life, career; wondering if I will ever sit among those who are thriving and seemingly unbeaten. Creating strategies and tactics to shift paradigms and cultures to create the success I desire, the respect I want to deserve, the importance I crave. Reminded of the fleeting substance of being known by the many, I realize my desire to be known is not a selfish desire, simply misguided.

           What then would change if the aspiration to be famed found its roots in eternal consequences? Where the footprints of my steps were marked by broken chains and freed lives. What if the popularity’s construction was replaced with importing value and life into the broken and hopeless? What if I forgot about my name, and in the minutes of everyday, resolved only to promote His? Where reputation began in heaven, while unpopulating hell.

What if famous still happened…

…in and through the ageless?

One Decision

I sat alone in a room soon to be filled with a few hundred screaming, giggling, and overjoyed high school students. Coming with a friend up into the mountains during vacation, memories flood of the past years of directing similar events, hoping the quiet empty room I now sit in, I will drown out the noise shattering inside of me.

Perfection.

It’s required. Without it, you’re not first; and if you’re not first you’re last.  I’ve relived, remembered, redone, tried to remove, and with every repeating memory, replenished the judgment and shame on myself. A single mistake, regardless of its significance, can cause a train wreck of internal disorder.

Growing up, trouble seemed to always be at my door. Fun was the driving force behind every action, thought, hour, or day without concern for rules or discipline.  Nevertheless, if punishment were to come, it couldn’t come quick enough. Once discipline made its mark, I could move to once again look to become the best, to achieve perfection, hoping next time, I wouldn’t spoil His plan for my life again.  His plan is perfect, and to stay on His plan, I must remain perfect as if my life is a board-game, only the perfect role will land me on the intended space.

Easy to read, hear, think, ever difficult to truly know; that regardless of my mistakes, I am deeply loved. Regardless of my continual failed pursuit of perfection. I am deeply loved. Regardless of the consequences, the brokenness I create, I am deeply loved.  Regardless of how I view me, I am forever deeply loved.

Regardless, I still don’t believe it.

I always come back to a time, sitting on bench with a close friend. Explaining to him my impending life decision, he stopped my rambling and gave am unforgettable slap on the wrist:

“Who do you think you are? Why do you think you are so big? Do you really think that you are powerful enough to mess up God’s plan for your life in one decision? Mistake or correct, pursue Him, His plan is bigger than you.”

I want to believe it.

 I will.

Hopeful(less)

I hope.

What is it that I hope? I hope to make more money. I hope to get the job. I hope my finances come through. I hope to be noticed. I hope to do well in school. I hope to get what I ask for. I hope to stay healthy. I hope to be loved. I hope to be needed. I hope. I hope.

I want.

These words have become interchangeable in my expressions. Hope equates desire; but it doesn't. Hope must be put in something, someone. Can I hope in something I cannot see? It is in where my hope lies, this place that feeds me life, hoping for something greater, when satisfied, I become the person I was authored to be.

Hope fails.

Most often, I have my hope stationed in relationships; in the end wanting to be counted among the number of whom this piece of my hope is controlled.  When I am unrecognized, ignored, I become unvalued. This habit requires overindulging by asserting to maintain peaceful connections. Hope still serves the same purpose, nevertheless, putting my hope in anything that can ultimately fail, will. Broken relationships, author hopelessness, and lies are fashioned to the fiction of Hope's existence. My hope is in being wanted. When I am unwanted in an instance, I become unwanted unanimously. It is when my hope is placed in something definable, the definition will at last become identity. Being wanted is part of the design, but allowing it to become the substitute when I don't feel like a son, my internal infrastructure begins to crumble. Hope fails when grounded in something or someone that was never designed provide satisfaction, life.

Hope influences.

A friend of mine once told me, the one who possesses the greatest hope, possesses the greatest influence. Hope is the confidence in something great, for something better. Hope is knowing. Hope doesn't disappoint. I live by who I put my hope in, I die by its absence. But hope can always win, hope can always satisfy, hope can always influence. It is when my hope is placed in what cannot be defined, the one who calls me son, the one who always welcomes, always wins, always satisfies; then definitions and identities are insignificant, because they are unchanging. I am thus always wanted, because of who I am, never the converse.

Where is my hope? 

Today...

...my hope is in Jesus.

A son. 

Wanted.