The Best Place to Buy Strength and Courage

I have a friend who’s father disowned him. My friend was studying to be a lawyer at the time but (to make a very long story short), decided to go in a very different direction, one that wouldn’t bear much money or prestige. So his father, not knowing what to do, kicked him out of the house.

My friend had recently become acquainted with the teachings of Jesus and decided to apply them to this situation. On one particular occasion he broke into his father’s house, shined every one of his shoes, then left a note, something akin to “I really want to be your friend.” He bombarded his father with this Jesus stuff – no preaching, no “you’re going to hell” – just merciful acts that required a level of strength and courage that few can muster. It took a really long time, but it worked.

Put that in your Bible.

This guy, in many respects, is my hero. Knowing him has changed my life. We have alot in common – lots of past hurts – but we’ve lived different lives. Whenever he runs into something difficult, he tends to chose the path that requires strength and courage. I tend to take the easy way out. It’s no surprise that he’s stronger and more courageous than I am, despite the fact that he’s really, really skinny.

I used to think that strong people were born that way, but knowing him has convinced me otherwise. Strength and courage aren’t inherited, they’re built in moments that really suck, places that are scary. We might not “win” or “prevail” when life dumps something miserable in our lap, but we’re guaranteed to come out the other side a changed person if we can somehow manage to hold fast and engage the suckiness.

We’ll change if we run away too. Weakness and fear are built in those moments when we (understandably) find some reason to excuse ourselves from the hard stuff. Ironically, it’s just as hard to stay put in the difficult moments as it is to live in weakness and fear.

One thing that we all have in common is the hardship that seems to be constantly nipping at our heels. Life isn’t fair, nothing good is easy, there are no good pursuits that don’t require some level of sacrifice, pain, and courage, blah, blah, blah. We’ll never be left wanting for hard times.

But don’t go it alone. I have another friend who recently faced a horribly difficult situation – worst case scenario – but for some reason felt that he had to figure out everything by himself. It didn’t work. To navigate the hard things alone is to fail. Every time. Mentors, therapists, honest friends, strong people, cheerleaders, etc. come part and parcel to a not-miserable life. You won’t make it without them.

If we want to have anything resembling a decent life we’ll have to get used to difficulty – let it in, stay put, give it permission to shape us into the kind of people that know joy, peace, hope, influence, etc, regardless of what’s going on around us. That’s the life we want for our kids. It’s the life that God wants for us.

Difficulties break some men but make others. No axe is sharp enough to cut the soul of a sinner who keeps on trying.
Nelson Mandela

Whatever it is inside that locks us to the ground in hard times has to be challenged, like a muscle. It can’t be worked out in a gym where everything’s safe and predictable, a place where we call the shots – it’s only stretched and shaped in dark places. The more we work it out, the stronger it gets, the easier it is to stay put – to do what’s right when everything goes wrong.

Few things are more fundamental to a great life than staying put when everything inside is telling us to run.

“If you’re going through hell, keep going.”  Winston Churchill

Why your brain is screaming for peace

As I was driving down 23rd avenue on a Tuesday morning, yelling at the car in front of me for driving just under the speed limit, I realized that I’m not just a person who struggles with anger, I usually have an angst-charged thought traipsing around somewhere in my brain.

I finally admitted to my almost fifty year old self that there are few moments during the day when I’m at peace. I think about someone who’s wronged me. I think about how to gain the upper hand in a confrontation, sometimes rehearsing what I’ll say in the moment of truth. I think about how things aren’t going my way or the mountain of tasks that life before me, the outcomes of which, most of the time, lie outside of my control. It’s no wonder that the only thing that sounds good at the end of the day is a drink and a couple hours of TV.

I spend the majority of my day pounding my brain with thoughts, ideas, fantasies, make-believe scenarios, and stress. Lots of stress.

And so my mind has been living in a war zone for years. It knows that when I wake up in the morning the sirens will wail and the bullets will fly – bad attitudes, screaming kids, coffee, to do list, etc.

So it’s wired itself for survival. The more crap I throw at it, the more it adjusts itself. The more non-peaceful things I feed my brain, the more non-peaceful my brain thinks it’s world is, the more non-peaceful it becomes.

I know others who choose not to live this way.  Their minds have an entirely different experience, and have wired themselves accordingly. Their minds are at peace. They might run into the occasional hardship, but “hard” is not how they see their world. Their minds don’t start the day at DEFCON 1 like mine does.

The Science of a Stressed Out Brain

If you could dumb down our understanding of the brain a bit, you might divide it into two sections. One section, the “fight or flight” (FoF) part of the brain, and the other, the “rational” part. If a brain finds itself under constant duress, with FoF constantly firing, that part of the brain becomes the strongest and will begin calling the shots, seeing every. single. thing. as a threat.

If, on the other hand, the brain experiences significant moments of peace, FoF gets a chance to rest while the rational part is allowed to take over, which is what it’s supposed to be doing anyway. It’s impossible to be at peace when FoF is locked and loaded, and the rational part, asleep.

People who have experienced some form of consistent abuse, folks with PTSD, and/or those who live in constant fear of the future, what others think of them, etc., tend to view their world as an inherently unsafe place – that’s the world that their brains have wired themselves for. These people will have an extremely difficult time soaking in the life, beauty, and relationships that surround them. They’ll have a hard time getting along with others. They can’t sleep. The part of their mind that’s built for a good life has been told to stand down while the part that’s built for war has hunkered the entire being deep in the trenches – completely on the defensive.

We can tell these people to “get over it,” or “think differently,” or “go to church,” but as long as their minds are on red alert, nothing will change. What they’re in dire need of is peace. Tons of it.

I’m surprised how easy it’s been to stop bombarding my brain with war, to be the gatekeeper for the kinds of thoughts I let through the “door.” The peaceful/good/hopeful/pretty things of my life are just as much of a reality as the hard stuff, so why not spend more time ruminating on the things that will ultimately cause my brain to think it’s living in a different place – not a war zone, but a place of peace?

When I meet someone who can’t relax, who’s usually angry, who has a hard time getting along with others, or who doesn’t seem to care about anything, I’m no longer asking questions about their character, or going through my usual list of things I think they should be doing to become the person I think they should be. Instead, I find myself moving towards compassion, asking what’s going on in their mind – what’s so taken over their reason and rationality that they can’t live the kind of life I know they’d rather be living?

Peace is our job, not only in our lives, but in the lives of others. Ironically, the more I invite peaceful thoughts into my own life, the easier it is to bring peace into the lives of others, and vice versa.

A Good Day to Die

Imagine that you have one week to live.  I know – sorry – that’s such a cheesy way to start a post.  If you were really dying though, you’d feel anything but cheese.  In our culture we like to pretend that death’s not real.  We invent all manner of fantasy to insulate us from the idea that our time here is so desperately short.

Close your computer, take 15 minutes of silence and imagine that this is your last week – give it enough time.  Make it real.

If you do a good job, you’ll look at everything differently – friendship, marriage, kids, possessions, career, worries, fears, goals, broken relationships, values. You’ll find that death brings a quality to life that “immortality” can’t.

Living with death is a quick remedy for the bullshit that we allow to move into our minds, our tendency to feel like the very cosmos has set it’s will against us, that life’s not fair, that we need more.

So many times I feel like I’m living in a giant, shiny, silver tube, where all I can see is a glimmer of what’s ahead, completely blind to the beauty and the weight that surrounds me.  The not-so-distant reality of my death makes me sad, but brings with it the reminder that I have a great life.