Previously, I wrote about our pursuit of the American Dream, its pros and cons, and how most view it as improving yourself economically, owning your own home, building a retirement nest-egg, etc. But, perhaps the most compelling symbol for those who’ve achieved the American Dream is embodied in just two letters: RV.

Many people want to pay off their mortgage or have a nice retirement so they can do one thing: have the freedom to purchase a Recreational Vehicle and hit the road. My parents did just this a while back, spending five years traveling the country, working at different camps, enjoying the good life. My wife and I have often whispered of selling all we own, buying an RV, and heading out into the unknown.

RV life is an adventure. You get to trade your ordinary, predictable world for a life of scenic beauty and imagination. The road is always before you. There is newness and variety to the people you meet, the places you see, the potential to start anew with each new day. The very word recreational speaks of a life of refreshment and joy; you just need a vehicle to get you there.

It occurs to me that you and I are recreational vehicles. Or at least we can be if we change our focus a bit and see ourselves with different eyes.

Did you realize that God’s conspicuous activity throughout most of temporal, human history hasn’t been so much creative as it has been re-creational? In other words, of the hundreds of chapters in the biblical story, only the first few pages directly narrate God’s activity as Creator (despite retrospective allusions elsewhere).

From the time He “formed man of dust from the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life,” the rest of God’s story, and ours, largely involves recreation–transforming ordinary, profane, fallen “material” into something sanctified and glorious.

My own story is certainly a microcosm of this recreational endeavor. Through God’s breath into my dusty form, strength and reconciliation have arisen from a life of weakness and brokenness; relational passion, intimacy, and purity have been recreated from a past of rejection, distance, and misplaced desire. He continues my metamorphosis still and will continue it for his own glory.

I often tell people who bemoan the fact that they have never experienced the miracles of old–the parting of the Red Sea, sight to the blind, the dead rising from the grave–that they are ignoring the miracles that occur every day right under our noses:

Have you ever witnessed someone’s character transformed from a life of selfishness into a life of service to others? Perhaps a sexually-abused girl who now brings spiritual healing to those with a similar past? Have you ever seen a lifeless marriage that somehow rediscovers love, forgiveness, and intimacy? If you claim these kind of events aren’t miracles, you must be living in denial.

It is wise to note, however, that most miracles only appear supernatural to us. Really, they simply involve the Creator, transforming, recreating that which already exists though it is at first unseen by our human eyes. Abraham was given the ability to have a child decades beyond what was considered natural because he trusted in the God who “gives life to the dead and calls the things that are not, the things that are.”

Do you spend your days in drudgery and meaninglessness, pining away for a future when you might have the freedom to enjoy what is good? Do you see only how ordinary, how profane, how fallen you are, only a world of darkness, suffering, and brokenness? It is naive to deny that such realities exist. But, if you simply change your direction and your focus, there is a light that can transform who you are and what you see.

To be a recreational vehicle is about focusing on the unseen road before you, always driving yourself toward this faithful Creator who knows the end from the beginning, this God who can give you a new heart and a new spirit, who calls the things we believe are not, the things that are.

Don’t wait for retirement to step out on such a glorious adventure. You have only to turn around to leave the darkness behind you. The sunrise awaits.

The precious possession of a man is diligence. — Proverbs 12:27

Do you like what you do? According to recent surveys, most Americans don’t. Most of us are unhappy and wishing we were somewhere else. Some of us are lazy. Others are unchallenged. Some can’t get along with our co-workers. Others have a mean boss or feel under-appreciated for all they do.

In truth, understanding our relationship to work is a fundamental life-question, and if we’re not happy with what we do, this might be a red-flag for some self-examination. Why? Because work, or what we do, encapsulates much more than what we do for a paycheck and therefore speaks more about who we are as human beings than just who we are as employees.

Sure, most of us go to work to earn a living. But, It’s also work to get out of bed, it’s work to exercise, to eat right and keep ourselves fit. It’s work to keep a house clean, to care for infants and teenagers, to love our husband or wife, it’s work to come up with fresh ideas, to keep up with our studies, to go to church, to pray, to volunteer in our community, and so on.

Understanding our relationship to work runs as deep as understanding our relationship to God, to our spouse, our children, or others who matter to us. Because, just like marriage, childbirth, etc., work is seated deep within our psyche and our history. The concept of work is sewn within the fabric of life’s purpose and meaning.

In the Bible, the first thing we read about God doing is work. When he speaks, he does so with a view towards productivity. Through his creative energy, he produces for us light, the earth, the sea, plants, animals, humans–all with a similar reproductive or utilitarian end. They’re meant to work for something. The first commission he gives to man is to work, to cultivate and maintain Eden, his home. Everything has its purpose, and our purpose is typically exercised through work.

The Bible has a lot to say about our relationship to work:

Are you one of those who feels unappreciated at your job (outside or inside the home), like no one understands your value or properly rewards you for what you do? There are lots of passages where God defends equal work for equal pay. And, God does care about justice in the workplace. But, he also cares about your attitude and your sense of duty. God says that it’s better to be a nobody with a job than to be unemployed with no one around to challenge your superiority (1). And, he says that, ultimately, he’s the one you should be working for; he’s the one you should seek your rewards and recognition from (2).

Work produces. Idleness, believe it or not, destroys (3). Idleness is rampant in our culture of electronic self-worship and passivity. When we have nothing to do for an extended period, our love turns inward and our judgment turns outward (4). When we aren’t producing anything, we’re more apt to tear down and, worse-case scenario, to even lose the life and gifts God meant for us to put to good use in the first place (5).

You’ve heard all the stories of people who win the lottery only to end up in bankruptcy, broken relationships, and even death? God says that “the precious possession of a man is his diligence” (6). There needs to be an appreciation between what we have and how much work was done to produce it. Otherwise, we disintegrate into selfishness, and what we do have has no meaning; we incessantly crave and desire and are left with nothing (7).

Now some of you Bible scholars are shouting at your screen, trying to remind me that God gives us our most precious possession, our eternal relationship with Him, through his grace and not our own work. This is indeed true. But, God’s grace, while given freely, is the result of the finished work of his son, and we’ll have no true job satisfaction in life without–in appreciation of the cost that was paid for this free gift–following the same work-ethic Jesus did while on earth.

Essentially, when we accept the rewards of Christ’s work, we do so by signing a new job application. God becomes our new boss. He has already paid us the highest of salaries, and promises to energize us to do so many things we could never do on our own (8). But, ultimately, he expects us, through his power and guidance, to be productive–to help him reproduce in others what he has produced in us.

If you’re feeling disgruntled with your job, with the effort you produce, with your place in life, ask yourself this question: What are you working for? Is it to produce a living, a regular paycheck, food on the table, shoes for the kids? This is right to do. But, you shouldn’t work just to produce a living, but to produce a life–not just for yourself or your own sense of purpose, but for the lives of those around you. That’s really what you were created for.

God says that by working hard, we should remember those in need, whether, physical, or spiritual (9). He says that a person should “labor, performing with his own hands what is good, so that he will have something to share with one who has need” (10).

Our relationship to work, then, has everything to do with how we work on our relationships. What if we applied the following as a work ethic, both on the job, and in life itself?

“Love from the center of who you are; don’t fake it. Run for dear life from evil; hold on for dear life to good. Be good friends who love deeply; practice playing second fiddle. Don’t burn out; keep yourselves fueled and aflame. Be alert servants of the Master, cheerfully expectant. Don’t quit in hard times; pray all the harder. Help needy Christians; be inventive in hospitality. Bless your enemies; no cursing under your breath. Laugh with your happy friends when they’re happy; share tears when they’re down. Get along with each other; don’t be stuck-up. Make friends with nobodies; don’t be the great somebody. Don’t hit back; discover beauty in everyone. If you’ve got it in you, get along with everybody” (11).

Tell me that the work described above wouldn’t produce a reward that is miles beyond your measly expectations of a fair paycheck and proper recognition in your career or vocation. It would both exhaust you and help you sleep more soundly at night. It would produce in you and others a life of purpose and meaning.

Whether you’ve noticed it or not, God’s sign has been placed in the window of your life all this time:

“Help Wanted.”

What are you ready to do for him?

(1).   Proverbs 12:9
(2).   Ephesians 6:5-8; Hebrews 6:10-12
(3).   Proverbs 18:9
(4).   I Timothy 5:13-18; Proverbs 26:16
(5).   Luke 19:20-26
(6).   Proverbs 12:27
(7).   Proverbs 13:4; 21:25-26
(8).   Philippians 2:12-13
(9).   Acts 20:35
(10). Ephesians 4:28
(11). Romans 12:9-18

When I was very young and bursting with faith.

“There exists in most men a poet who died young, while the man survived.”
– Sainte-Beuve

It is one of the gifts of life to me that, no matter how old we are, we’re never far from the glory and imagery of childhood.

We, of course, spend perhaps a quarter of our life as children. Then, sometime soon after becoming adults (and sometimes before) many of us have children of our own and raise them into our middle years (and sometimes beyond). Our children then have children, and if we’re granted years beyond the average span, our greatness is measured by how many of their children surround us.

For people like me and my wife, we have the gift of nieces and nephews, the children of friends and extended family. So, unless we’re monks or highly reclusive, children and childhood are always around us.

Many of the reasons for this gift are obvious. Some are beyond our comprehension. Children infuse our decaying psyches with the pulse of renewal, of innocence and purity. Children give us hope. They shock us out of the mundane drone of anxious reality into living in the rapturous present–the unrestrained belly laugh; the melodious giggle; the faraway gaze; the bursting enthusiasm; the playful absorption. They remind us of guileless friendship and interdimensional joy. Their life’s purpose is seated in love and connection. Imagination isn’t a word they use. It’s the lens through which they see everything.

Scripture speaks often of the lessons of childhood. It speaks of what it means to be a child and what it means to grow up. But, I think, when we become adults, we often misinterpret these lessons. We exempt ourselves from the lessons of childhood because, as adults, we think we don’t need them any more. But, as spiritual children, no matter our age, we’re really never beyond needing them.

Certainly, most reading this have reached adulthood—we have jobs, we pay our taxes, we take out the trash. In the context of the physical world, we have reached maturity. We have left our father and mother and have a sense of sovereignty and autonomy over the physical universe.

But, what about the spiritual world? Are we likewise spiritual “grown-ups,” not needing a transcendent Father to protect us and help us make sense of things? Spiritually, no matter the assessment of our own maturity, shouldn’t we always remain the little child who can look with an unknowing awe and unrestrained dependence toward their daddy?

Perhaps we have grown spiritually in some areas, but unknowingly, are still children in others. Or, having grown some, perhaps we learned an important lesson as spiritual children, but in our seasoned maturity, we have forgotten what it was. God often calls us backward in order to move us forward.

As adults of this world, we live lives of responsibility and restraint. But, spiritually, we could stand to remember the uninhibited passion of childhood. And not just the passion to enjoy what’s good in life, but a passionate transparency to cry out to anyone who would listen when things are not so good.

Scripture does say that we shouldn’t remain children. That we should grow spiritually. But again, most of us never really have the chance to grow up because we won’t first regress into spiritual infancy. We think our goal in life should be to seek greatness. Control. Accomplishment. But, Christ said we should instead humble ourselves and seek him with all the dependence and frailty of a little child.

Growing up can be hard and there are some memories of youth we wouldn’t want to repeat. But we serve a God who makes all things new, and the Kingdom of Heaven is found, not in the security of adulthood, but in the precarious wonder of starting over with a remembered innocence.

So, whatever our age, any hope we might have for our future lies not just in being born again, but in growing up again. And, as we grow up again in him, we are called the “children of promise.”

“See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we would be called children of God. And we are!…And, it has not appeared as yet what we will be. We know that when He appears, we will be like Him, because we will see Him just as He is…everyone who has this hope fixed on Him purifies himself, just as He is pure.” — 1 John 3:1-3

I’ve always loved the old Spaghetti Westerns. Clint Eastwood rides into some frontier town covered with dust, mystery, and rawhide testosterone.

The Old West town he surveys is riddled with the oddest mix of characters: the snake-oil salesman bellows to anyone within shouting distance that he can cure all their ills; the preacher across the street shouts a solution to a different ailment–an eternity suffering in hellfire and brimstone; buxom prostitutes lean against brothel doors, selling their wares without uttering a single word; sentimental ladies stroll the boardwalk with modest dress and parasol, exchanging niceties; gold prospectors do a jig in praise of new-found riches; crowds in saloons are there for entertainment and the thrill of the game.

Now…imagine through some absurd use of creative license that Eastwood is transported through time and space to our present day and is given the knowledge to go on the internet and join such social networking sites as MySpace, Facebook and Twitter.

Our slant-eyed cowboy saunters into these virtual frontier communities, and what does he find? Well, not snake-oil salesmen exactly, but he is immediately pitched with the restorative properties of the acai berry and the potency of Cialis. No gold prospectors, but he is quickly approached about the millions that are just waiting for him with investments in online marketing, real estate ventures, or bank exchanges with Nigerian-hired barristers.

Sure, Clint may not find some old-school preacher speaking of doom-and-gloom, but he is riddled with bible-thumping status updates and invitations to blogs where he can pause and reflect on his spiritual well-being. And even rawhide Eastwood blushes at photos and video advertisements that make those old-time prostitutes look tame by comparison.

Instead of the enticements of saloon gambling, he is barraged with games like Farmville and Mafia Wars. Poor Clint even finds his profile buried in virtual flowers and teddy bears offered by sentimental ladies. And finally, our befuddled cowboy quickly learns the acronym “TMI” as he’s inundated with some of the most inane daily-life updates by the ordinary folks in this online town along with hundreds of photos of babies, pets, and weekend barbecues from people he’s barely heard of.

After experiencing such a futuristic horror our hardened gunslinger runs screaming from his computer and hides under the nearest pillow, dreaming of the relative safety of that Old West frontier.

*******

If you think about it, as dangerous as were the environmental hazards of living in the Old West, what seems more of a miracle is that anyone could survive the chaos of living with all those townfolk and their diverse interests and agendas. And while the online world of social networking is virtual, it’s also a wonder that we don’t all kill each outright or at least run screaming for safety–so many people with so many different expectations and pursuits trying to co-exist in the same virtual, frontier town.

Whether we realize it or not, most of us go online with inherent interests and pursuits, a pre-existing personality and makeup, and we subconsciously expect all those we interact with to basically fall in line. The fact that they don’t, or worse, that they expect us to be like them or want to enroll us in whatever program they’re into, comes as quite a shock. How dare they impose their Farmville, pet photos, or that get-rich sales pitch on us!

I’m sure I’ve tested some folks’ better angels with my blog advertisements or numerous status updates (including my unsolicited notice to my Facebook friends about today’s post!). No one’s complained, really, but I suspect I’ve been filtered or blocked by more than a few. I can be as guilty of this as anyone. News Flash: communities are full of imperfect people. So, probably all of us have, despite our best intentions, been insensitive to others’ expectations or spent too much time fuming over someone else’s infringements.

Just like living in any community, there are pros and cons to being part of these social networks. On the positive side, I have gained a great deal being online. I have made so many new friends, reunited with old ones, made new professional contacts, learned so many new things, and engaged in areas of dialogue I could never have found in the “real world.” Despite the things I find irritating, the good, for me, far outweighs the bad.

So, what’s the answer? I think the answer to behaving appropriately in the world of social networking is similar to the way we behave well in any real-world society. It’s simply by practicing The Golden Rule–to treat others as we’d want to be treated.

The Golden Rule is so simple and so easy. Why? Because I apply it by first focusing on my favorite subject-me! God really threw us a bone in the sense that the starting place for our love and compassion for others actually begins with our selfishness. It’s self-referential. I ask, ‘how would I want to be treated in this instance?’ Then the translation is simple. I treat others the same way.

So, for example: I personally don’t want someone to befriend me online and immediately start trying to sell me something, so I’m trying to get better at not inviting folks to my blog the minute after I befriend them (I am learning this one as I go). As another example, I don’t personally play Farmville, other games, or send gifts, but because I so often want people to listen when I reach out in ways they could find irritating, I typically accept all those flowers and teddy bears, and don’t block folks who constantly guilt me into helping them find their lost sheep.

It’s also helpful to remember that people most often do what they do because of need. People headed into the Old West frontier because they needed something. Freedom. Adventure. Spirituality. Commercial opportunity. Riches. Community. Here online, some just want entertainment, some want community, some want action, some want to make their first million, some want to just lurk quietly and be left alone.

Despite our diversity, one thing we certainly have in common is that we all have needs, and whether they’re casual or deeply felt, we’re all on here in hope that those needs might somehow get met. The Golden Rule is our path to this goal. But it says that we get our deepest needs met by first meeting the needs of others, or at least by being sensitive to those needs as we follow our own pursuits.

I’m not saying we aren’t right to use common-sense boundaries while online, whether it’s to protect our privacy, our safety, or simply our right to not be constantly hounded by spam, the latest sales pitch or some activity we find too frivolous for words. But, the boundaries we set should at least be equal to the respect we show for the boundaries of others when we ask them to accept whatever it is that we’re “selling.”

Part of the adventure of entering into a new frontier is that the future is bursting with possibility and opportunity. Imagine the possibilities that could come from reaching out to others online with grace and peace, especially when they least expect it…or deserve it. At the very least, it might bring a bit more civility to this wild, wild frontier town we’ve all come to live in.

Jesus said: “Whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” (Matthew 16:25)

Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others. (Philippians 2:3-4)

(Originally written June 2007)

A beautiful woman died the other day. And, for my own life, I have no reason at all to complain.

Jacqui was to turn 28 in a month or so. She was a gorgeous, petite girl with striking eyes and auburn hair. She was filled with love and with an amazing energy for life. She was married just under 2 years to a wonderful man. But, she died. Of cancer.

I went to her funeral with that sick feeling in my stomach. Why this tragedy? Why would God allow such a wonderful young woman to be taken so soon? The scale of this injustice seemed almost too high to fathom. It was so absurd, so cruel, that amidst the anger, all I could do is laugh.

So, I prepared myself for my internal role at this service. To remember her, yes, to mourn her, but what I perhaps most anticipated was to join in with all the others in an angry cry to God. “How could you do this?!!” I imagined perhaps we’d all be shaking our fists at heaven and condemning God for his rank stupidity and carelessness.

But what awaited me there was something altogether different. What I found wasn’t some paltry jury full of vindictive, bitter God-haters, but a group of family and friends who had come to celebrate a miracle. Through personal stories and the pastor’s eulogy, I was reminded that Jacqui’s life, although way too short, was one of victory. And that nothing so simple as death could stifle that.

By her own public admission, Jacqui had been delivered from a past of hopelessness, where in a sense, though still living and breathing, she was already dead to anything that mattered. She had a baby daughter while still in her teens. Her life was devoted to the numb pleasure of drugs and recklessness, falling in and out of selfish, superficial relationships. Her behavior became so bad, that the powers-that-be removed her daughter, and so the one good thing she had produced in life was also taken from her.

But, then, in her early 20s, she started attending church and the miracle, although slowly, began to happen. Within a few years, she began to see that there was more to life than her own self-destructive desires, that God had a plan for her to rise out of the pit of her own making, and that no matter who she had been, God wanted to breathe into her a new life and a fresh start. She became free of the drugs, met and married a man who didn’t run when things got tough, and after everything, achieved a goal she once may not have thought possible–she was given her daughter back.

Sitting at her funeral, I was reminded that amidst her past failures and future triumphs, Jacqui embodied two characteristics that I have found to be crucial to knowing true happiness–humility and gratitude. Jacqui was humble. After committing herself to God and seeing the changes he was working in her life, she knew that any value or worth that she had came solely from him. She once offered to help out around the church, but felt so unworthy at the time that she asked if she could serve in a capacity where she would “remain unseen.” The process of change was long and tedious, but when she made a particular commitment to alter her behavior, she stuck to it. At one point, feeling she was perhaps falling back into the overwhelming desire to do drugs again, she independently entered rehab to make sure the change would stick. Her humility strengthened her resolve to rise above who she had once been.

And, Jacqui was grateful. She saw that she’d been given a precious gift, and that, no matter what future lay before her, she would never take it for granted. So, when she was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin Lymphoma and was progressively given news that her body was failing her, her sense of humility and gratitude never left her. In the latter stages of her sickness when all physical hope was lost, she wrote a friend a letter in which she referenced a passage of Scripture that had encouraged her deeply:

We have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed…All this is for your benefit, so that the grace that is reaching more and more people may cause thanksgiving to overflow to the glory of God. Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.*

Freed from her own self-indulgence, Jacqui was able to see that 1) we should be humbled by the fact that none of us are guaranteed our next breath, and that, 2) we should be grateful for the life we have been given. And because of her commitment to God and his Son, Jacqui knew that the life she’d been given would go on forever. And that her miraculous transformation of character, her new husband, the return of her daughter, were just a small taste of what that new life would be like. Jacqui was humble. She was grateful.

So, I look to my own life and see that it’s not about what’s happening around me, or even what’s happening inside me, i.e., my health, etc., but how I choose to respond to it all. Believe me, I can often find myself griping about the smallest offense, or the silliest disappointment, but for my own life, I just have no reason to complain.

You see, I often don’t have control over what will happen to me when I step out of bed each day, but I do have control over my perspective. When I’m feeling down about my life, about the people who’ve hurt me, about how I’m not getting my just due, or even about how God could allow people like Jacqui to suffer and die, there are specific traits that are missing from my psyche. I’m not truly humble. And, I’m not grateful. When I really get honest with myself, I have far more reasons to be humble and grateful than I have reasons to complain.

But, the hurts and disappointments of life keep coming at us, don’t they? So, amidst my own self-indulgence, this true perspective of life must be renewed each day. My perspective must ultimately be about who I am before God in the context of eternity, more than who I am in this relatively short visit to planet Earth.

If you find yourself in the pit of depression, despair or bitterness, I know that this might seem like a tall order. But it is possible. Sometimes, it needs to just begin with a single area of focus, and we can grow from there. So, I’ll start with Jacqui. I am humbled by her amazing life and am most grateful to have known her. And now, not surprisingly, my life is a whole lot brighter for having entertained that thought.

* 2 Corinthians 4:7-9,15-18