Three different things have been swirling around each other in my mind lately, and it recently dawned on me (in one of those glorious moments of epiphany!) that they are actually three expressions of the same essential truth.
It all began with John Piper, and reading his book Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist. It's one of those life-application books about Christianity that is so simple, it's profound. Anyone who is familiar with John Piper knows his foundational philosophy: "God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him." The book is about not only seeking God, but desiring to seek Him (hence the title), and how to find and express true joy in our relationship with Him. While reading this (and I still am, because it's very deep and there are many more golden nuggets to glean), I found myself struck with the thought that I'm not always satisfied in God, that I'm often not even thinking about Him. I've wasted a lot of time (and who hasn't?) pursuing satisfaction in the things of this world -- a good job, a steady paycheck, a solid group of friends, even a good church -- and not truly pursuing God Himself. In other words, I was compartmentalizing God into certain areas of my life, and not letting Him be my all-in-all.
That's when I saw Facing the Giants for the first time. I got it through Netflix, and popped it into my DVD player with rather low expectations. By the time the end credits rolled, I had added it to my shopping list and bought it at Wal-Mart that night. All I could say was WOW! And then watch it again. The film is about Grant Taylor, a football coach at a Christan high school who transforms the team's philosophy, encouraging the otherwise-apathetic students to begin giving God their very best in every aspect of their lives, including football. The most powerful scene happens about halfway through the movie - it's known as "The Death Crawl." Brock, a defensive lineman for the team, is asked to carry another team member across the field on his back, using only his arms for strength and his feet for balance. In the past, he has gone 10 yards as part of his team drills, but this time Grant asks hims to give him his very best. "What, you mean, like, the 30?" Brock asks, thinking that triple his usual distance would be his best. Grant replies, "I think you can go to the 50." Brock sneers, "The 50?! I could go to the 50 if no one's on my back." Grant is quick to reply, "I think you can do it with Jeremy on your back, but even if you can, I want you to give me your absolute best." After making Brock promise several times to give his very best, Grant adds one more condition, "I want you to do it blindfolded, because I don't want you giving up at a certain point when you could go further." Brock begins the crawl with Jeremy on his back, and all the while Grant is walking right beside him, motivating him like a drill sergeant. The rest of the team is snickering on the sidelines, shaking their heads and making fun of Brock. But the farther Brock crawls, the quiter the team becomes, until eventually they have to stand up and walk after him to see just how far down the field Brock's "crawling." All the while, Grant is shouting into Brock's ears, "You don't quit! You promised me your best! You give me your very best! Your very best! You don't quit on me!" When he finally collapses and Jeremy rolls off his back, Brock is shaking and sweating and crying facedown into the grass, "It's gotta be the 50! It's gotta be the 50! I don't have anymore left!" Then Grant removes his blindfold and says, "Look up, Brock. You're in the end zone." At last, the apathy is broken through, and Brock and his teammates finally begin to realize what it means to give God their best. Brock was striving for what he thought was his best -- the 50 yard line -- but because he couldn't see where he was being led, he learned that he had a lot more to give.
And then I came across a wonderful version of "The Little Drummer Boy." I used to think this Christmas carol was one of the hokiest, lamest songs out there -- as if there was really a drummer at the manger in Bethlehem! -- but this version of the carol finally made me focus on the words (without the pah-rum-pum-pum-pum's):
Little baby
I am a poor boy, too
I have no gift to bring
that's fit to give a King
shall I play for you on my drum?
Mary nodded
The ox and lamb kept time
I played my drum for Him
I played my best for Him
Then He smiled at me, me and my drum
This carol now makes me think about all the things we can't give God, because we aren't worthy. In order for God and man to be reconciled, it was God who had to stoop to our level... we could never raise ourselves to Him. But God doesn't ask us to do that: He asks us to simply give back to Him the best of what He first gave to us. This little boy was given the gift of a drum, and his obligation was to play it with everything he had. And that is was makes the Lord smile down upon us. That is how we reflect His glory. And that is how we find our deepest satisfaction and joy in life -- by pursuing God's pleasure, not our own. Which brings me back to John Piper...
These thoughts are all still swirling about, and I'll still be thinking about all of this long after Christmas is over...
It all began with John Piper, and reading his book Desiring God: Meditations of a Christian Hedonist. It's one of those life-application books about Christianity that is so simple, it's profound. Anyone who is familiar with John Piper knows his foundational philosophy: "God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him." The book is about not only seeking God, but desiring to seek Him (hence the title), and how to find and express true joy in our relationship with Him. While reading this (and I still am, because it's very deep and there are many more golden nuggets to glean), I found myself struck with the thought that I'm not always satisfied in God, that I'm often not even thinking about Him. I've wasted a lot of time (and who hasn't?) pursuing satisfaction in the things of this world -- a good job, a steady paycheck, a solid group of friends, even a good church -- and not truly pursuing God Himself. In other words, I was compartmentalizing God into certain areas of my life, and not letting Him be my all-in-all.
That's when I saw Facing the Giants for the first time. I got it through Netflix, and popped it into my DVD player with rather low expectations. By the time the end credits rolled, I had added it to my shopping list and bought it at Wal-Mart that night. All I could say was WOW! And then watch it again. The film is about Grant Taylor, a football coach at a Christan high school who transforms the team's philosophy, encouraging the otherwise-apathetic students to begin giving God their very best in every aspect of their lives, including football. The most powerful scene happens about halfway through the movie - it's known as "The Death Crawl." Brock, a defensive lineman for the team, is asked to carry another team member across the field on his back, using only his arms for strength and his feet for balance. In the past, he has gone 10 yards as part of his team drills, but this time Grant asks hims to give him his very best. "What, you mean, like, the 30?" Brock asks, thinking that triple his usual distance would be his best. Grant replies, "I think you can go to the 50." Brock sneers, "The 50?! I could go to the 50 if no one's on my back." Grant is quick to reply, "I think you can do it with Jeremy on your back, but even if you can, I want you to give me your absolute best." After making Brock promise several times to give his very best, Grant adds one more condition, "I want you to do it blindfolded, because I don't want you giving up at a certain point when you could go further." Brock begins the crawl with Jeremy on his back, and all the while Grant is walking right beside him, motivating him like a drill sergeant. The rest of the team is snickering on the sidelines, shaking their heads and making fun of Brock. But the farther Brock crawls, the quiter the team becomes, until eventually they have to stand up and walk after him to see just how far down the field Brock's "crawling." All the while, Grant is shouting into Brock's ears, "You don't quit! You promised me your best! You give me your very best! Your very best! You don't quit on me!" When he finally collapses and Jeremy rolls off his back, Brock is shaking and sweating and crying facedown into the grass, "It's gotta be the 50! It's gotta be the 50! I don't have anymore left!" Then Grant removes his blindfold and says, "Look up, Brock. You're in the end zone." At last, the apathy is broken through, and Brock and his teammates finally begin to realize what it means to give God their best. Brock was striving for what he thought was his best -- the 50 yard line -- but because he couldn't see where he was being led, he learned that he had a lot more to give.
And then I came across a wonderful version of "The Little Drummer Boy." I used to think this Christmas carol was one of the hokiest, lamest songs out there -- as if there was really a drummer at the manger in Bethlehem! -- but this version of the carol finally made me focus on the words (without the pah-rum-pum-pum-pum's):
Little baby
I am a poor boy, too
I have no gift to bring
that's fit to give a King
shall I play for you on my drum?
Mary nodded
The ox and lamb kept time
I played my drum for Him
I played my best for Him
Then He smiled at me, me and my drum
This carol now makes me think about all the things we can't give God, because we aren't worthy. In order for God and man to be reconciled, it was God who had to stoop to our level... we could never raise ourselves to Him. But God doesn't ask us to do that: He asks us to simply give back to Him the best of what He first gave to us. This little boy was given the gift of a drum, and his obligation was to play it with everything he had. And that is was makes the Lord smile down upon us. That is how we reflect His glory. And that is how we find our deepest satisfaction and joy in life -- by pursuing God's pleasure, not our own. Which brings me back to John Piper...
These thoughts are all still swirling about, and I'll still be thinking about all of this long after Christmas is over...
