Happy Saturday!

Joni Eareckson Tada has defied expectations her entire life. Every time I encounter her words I’m struck by her gentle grace. She faces adversity with confidence and peace that inspires me.

I encourage you to read this article, in which Joni offers some thoughts on a universal question:

Why Does God Allow Suffering?

Have a great weekend.

Okay, we all know life’s not fair, right?

Like it or not, we encounter circumstances in which justice simply doesn’t prevail. The bad guy gets the girl and the good guy loses his fortune. It’s reality—no sense complaining about it.

I’ve mostly let go of the silly habit of lamenting life’s injustices, but once in a while something occurs that demands a little outrage. Some events are so outrageously unfair that they demand righteous indignation. Yesterday, I experienced one such inequity.

I sprained my ankle.

That’s right—a guy in a wheelchair, paralyzed below his chest, has a sprained ankle complete with baseball-sized swelling and the beginnings of a lovely greenish-purple bruise.

Basic story: I was transferring from bike to chair, slipped, and fell with my foot trapped under my body.

So you’re wondering—what’s the big deal? You’re sitting down anyway. It’s not like you have to walk on it. Quit griping.

True enough. But my body has this odd response to pain—the affected area is prone to muscle spasms. So I’m trying to type, and every few minutes my leg does its best impression of a jumping bean, rattles the table, and attempts to kick a hole in the wall. This is disconcerting and tends to interrupt the flow of creative inspiration. And banging against the desk probably isn’t going to help the sprain heal.

Want more evidence of injustice? I can’t ride my bike because the footrest presses against the swollen knot, which seems to irritate my foot and induce even more violent spasms. So a guy who doesn’t even use feet or legs to crank is prevented from exercising because of a sprained ankle.

Anyone with a disability, injury, or illness will affirm that it’s frequently the small details that tend to be most irritating. I can deal with rolling around in a wheelchair. It’s tough to compensate for a foot with an independent mind that starts jumping around without warning.

I’m not really complaining. It’s a minor, temporary setback, and I’ll be up and around (so to speak) in a couple of days. Actually, this incident reminds me of some important principles.

• Stuff happens. It’s not a grand conspiracy designed to destroy my plans. Small setbacks are just part of life.
• Make the best of a situation. Instead of sweating on a bike path, I’m sitting on the patio beneath a cloudless blue sky, foot propped on a pillow, with a cup of coffee. Things could certainly be worse. (How To Discover Gratitude)
• Humor is an effective approach to adversity. A friend admonished me to “just walk it off.” I need to find more sympathetic friends.

Becky wants me to see a doctor. Why? “Don’t walk on it for a few days” isn’t going to help much.

Do you ever find yourself becoming upset with minor setbacks? How do you get beyond them?

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Happy Saturday!

I spend a lot of time and energy looking for excuses. I have a couple of pretty good ones, and I’m actually pretty good at spinning them from thin air.

Then I encounter someone like Zach Lipson and I remember to stop whining and get on with it.

Enjoy the story. And then go and do something passionately.

Thanks to Clark Osborn for sharing this inspiring article. His family is on an amazing journey as well.

But—this wasn’t what I planned.

Does that happen to you? You had things all organized, scheduled, and mapped out. You set goals, knew what you needed to do, and committed yourself to a calendar. Now, you’re ready to get going.

And then something gets in the way. Wasn’t your fault. Couldn’t have been anticipated. An unexpected detour.

I began the month with lofty goals and a workable strategy. I broke the tasks down into smaller chunks, and started this week with a great game plan. I was excited to get going. But …

A family emergency, an unanticipated serious illness. Fourteen hours of windshield time trashed my carefully constructed plan. Seven hundred miles reminded me of a constant lesson of life.

Stuff happens.

Flat tires. Injury. Illness. Computer problems. Doesn’t matter how carefully we plan, detours appear where we didn’t expect them.

This week is a good reminder for me that anyone can do well when it’s all going as expected. I don’t distinguish myself when everything falls my way.

Obstacles filter. Detours divide those who wish they could do it from those who are determined to do it. That doesn’t mean I seek out adversity—I still prefer smooth roads and clear skies. But in the real world, those who succeed have to find ways around, over, or through the inevitable obstacles.

So I tap out this blog in a small-town hotel room, hoping to find an internet connection somewhere. A few tasks get delayed or re-worked. And priorities become a little more clear as I remember that healing and health matter most.

I hope this week’s going well for you. I hope even more that you don’t give up in the face of detour and disappointment.

What’s an unanticipated obstacle you need to overcome today?

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“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.” [John 14:1-4]

What’s the ultimate adversity?

One week before Christmas, adversity may boil down to long lines at the mall or difficult weather conditions for holiday travel. My wife’s scrambling to prepare for a party and receiving little help from a spouse who’s glued to the keyboard—that’s adversity. But I’m thinking along the lines of something a bit more elemental.

One of my best friends is dying.

It’s not the Christmas gift we hoped for, but there it is. The conclusion of a courageous battle with a terrible enemy finally approaches, and we’ll soon have to accept the loss of his physical presence in our circle.

Death doesn’t fit nicely into the Christmas story. Birth and lights and gifts proclaim a priceless promise of hope and beginning. Tinsel and glitter prompt smiles and celebration. Christmas isn’t the time for sad farewells.

Except …

My friend has been on a true journey to faith over the past couple of years. His struggle to reconcile old wounds and personal failure has been replaced with an understanding and acceptance of healing grace. I know that Jesus lives in his heart.

So I grieve the impending loss of a friend and the pain of his family. I’m sad for the large circle to whom he’s been mentor and courageous example. I cry for the empty space his passing will leave in so many lives.

But next week I’ll celebrate the event that assures me he’s approaching a new beginning rather than an end. I’ll hold the paradox of sadness and joy in my heart. I’ll trust that God will help me experience them fully, mix them with grace, and give me His peace.

I pray that each of us, in the midst of life that isn’t always happy, can discover the spirit at the heart of a truly Merry Christmas.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. [John 14:27]

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“I realized that my faith was not in my paycheck or in the housing market.” 

I read a great article this week about people who have discovered unexpected blessings in the recession.

I admire folks who can see the rainbow while the storm rages. I’m pretty good at looking back and seeing the hidden blessings, but I tend to focus on current struggles while they’re in progress.

The people interviewed for the article somehow discovered opportunities and reasons for gratitude in the midst of trouble. Many rediscovered simple but essential gifts they’d taken for granted. The common themes: Family, friends and faith.

One man who lost his job found a deeper connection to God. “I realized that my faith was not in my paycheck or in the housing market,” he says. “Since the recession, I’ve also noticed a change in the country and how we’ve taken a step back from excess.”

One lady whose family “had it all and we lost it all” says economic woes forced her to seize opportunities she might have otherwise ignored. “If it weren’t for the economy going so bad, I would still be blowing money left and right. I am grateful because of the recession. The recession gave me a new opportunity, hope and purpose.”

Wow. These folks get it, being thankful in all circumstances.

I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength. [Philippians 4:11-13]

Let’s all remember that God is good and that He blesses us in all situations.

Happy Thanksgiving!

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A hero is an ordinary individual who finds the strength to persevere and endure in spite of overwhelming obstacles. Christopher Reeve

Lance Armstrong’s story inspires me. I hope you’ll take thirty seconds to watch this video:

(If you have trouble viewing the clip, this link will open it in a new window)

When I was a kid, sports personalities could still be heroes.

Before the Internet and 24/7 cable news with their insatiable appetite for sordid personal details, we viewed our idols through a lens of innocence that made them seem a bit larger than life. Paparazzi-driven media thrives on inevitable off-field flaws and failings, but something’s lost in the harsh spotlight of reality where box scores and records are overshadowed by financial transactions and court proceedings.

Even in the megabucks world of modern sport, I confess to retaining a bit of child-like admiration for Lance Armstrong. Without dismissing his personal struggles or ignoring his obvious marketing genius, Armstrong is a man who’s overcome adversity and uses his experience to inspire and encourage others.

I don’t care that he’s making a ton of money from Nike; in fact, good for him. I choose to focus on the people who are encouraged by his story to continue their fight. I choose to acknowledge the millions of dollars he’s raised for cancer research and treatment. I choose to admire those yellow bracelets that symbolize hope for folks all around the world. I choose to crank a little harder up that next hill in pursuit of The Crazy Quest.

It’s easy, and therefore tempting, to focus on what you oppose. Accomplished communicators accumulate followers, power, and riches by rallying resistance. Influential preachers and politicians build fanatical support based on opposition. I suspect that most people know more about what Christians oppose, often with bitterness and hatred, than what we support or believe. As Rick Warren said, “I love God, I’m just not mad about it.”

For me, the message of the video, and of Lance’s story, is simple. When you’re doing something positive, critics don’t really motivate you because they’re irrelevant. Don’t get distracted by the unavoidable naysayers standing outside the lines. Instead, do what you believe to be right, and do it with passion and persistence. Do it with love even when others don’t love you back.

Stand for something. That’s how you live a life of substance.

People like Armstrong, Christopher Reeve, Jim Valvano, Mike Utley, and Nick Buoniconti and don’t inspire because of what they oppose. These guys all fight (or fought) a tough opponent, but their legacy isn’t about disease or injury or anything negative. They’re too busy moving forward to waste energy on what’s behind. Their legacy is about proceeding with optimism, hope, courage, and passion.

That’s what I want. That’s a life of substance.

Is Lance Armstrong a hero? Ask the kids in the cancer center or the millions of people who run or ride every day because of his example. Perhaps they’re better judges.

Sometimes we forget that God uses imperfect people, because that’s the only kind He has to work with. Rather than cynically seeking defects to criticize, perhaps we’d all do better to emulate the courage that surrounds us.

I don’t admire Lance because he’s perfect–he’s not. I admire him because, despite his human flaws, he’s doing what he can to make his corner of the world a little better. I appreciate that he inspires me to do the same.

If that makes me seem a bit wide-eyed and innocent, I’m okay with that.

What’s your definition of a hero?

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Peace is not the absence of trial, trouble, and turmoil, but calm in the midst of them. Don Meyer

Last Saturday my wife suggested that we should coach a youth baseball team together. I scoffed at her idea, a violation of marital etiquette on the same level as choosing a lawn mower for her anniversary gift.

Stupid husband tricks aside, she couldn’t be serious. Guys in wheelchairs don’t coach sports teams. Everyone knows that.

Then I saw this video of Don Meyer at the 2009 ESPY awards. I hope you’ll watch—it’s worth the nine minutes. If you have trouble viewing the video, click here to see it in a new window.

It’s easy to be inspired by Coach Meyer’s resilience in the face of adversity. Imagine waking from the nightmare of accident and injury and immediately wondering when you could return to work. I certainly didn’t have that kind of inner motivation in the months following my injury.

But his story was remarkable even before his accident.

He’s been a successful coach for decades, yet has chosen to remain at a small, unknown school in an isolated South Dakota town. I’m certain that Coach Meyer turned his back on lucrative opportunities to move to bigger programs.

He could have worked in better facilities with more talented players. He could have lived in more desirable cities and enjoyed the fame and attention of a high-profile position. Instead, he chose to stay the course. That sort of loyalty is rare, especially in the what-have-you-done-for-me-lately world of athletics.

When I speak to audiences about setting goals and reaching for their dreams, I always quote Jim Valvano, for whom the Jimmy V award is named. He’s famous for telling his players that the key to success is simple: never give up.

That’s what hope is about. Hope lets you continue fighting when you want to quit. Hope allows you to believe despite the evidence. Hope is what allows you to never give up.

Hope is an expectation rooted in faith, in Coach Meyer’s words, “faith that God spared my life so I can serve others for a few more years.”

Once you choose hope, anything’s possible. Christopher Reeve

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Rebuking The Storm

One ship sails East, and another West,
By the self-same winds that blow,
Tis the set of the sails and not the gales,
That tells the way we go.  ~ Ella Wilcox

Occasionally I become a bit frustrated with “inspirational” musings about the blessings of adversity and the magical effects of a positive attitude.

When I’m having a tough day, when my wheelchair breaks or my back hurts or I can’t reach the top shelf, I don’t want to be reminded of the bigger picture. I want to lash out with my own deeply philosophical response, something spiritually uplifting like If you think it’s such a blessing, YOU try sitting here for the rest of your life.

I need to be crystal clear about this: I do not celebrate my injury. I don’t consider quadriplegia to be a blessing. If I could choose to walk and run and reach the top shelf without help, I would.

But despite the frustration and grief, I also acknowledge that the bigger picture does exist. That fact doesn’t diminish the pain one bit, but it does place my struggle in perspective. I don’t like the struggle, but I do appreciate the perspective.

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. (2 Cor 4: 18)

Immediately following my injury, I wanted desperately to know whether the paralysis was permanent. Would I be trapped forever in a broken body, or was this a scene from an inspirational movie in which miraculous healing occurs before the popcorn’s empty?

I’m not excited about knowing that my body will likely never work properly. But I am deeply thankful for the understanding that a wheelchair will not be my eternal companion. My disability, like all physical circumstances, is NOT permanent.

Then he got into the boat and his disciples followed him. Without warning, a furious storm came up on the lake, so that the waves swept over the boat. But Jesus was sleeping. The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Lord, save us! We’re going to drown!”

He replied, “You of little faith, why are you so afraid?” Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm. (Matthew 8: 23-26)

Jesus didn’t ignore their cries or disregard the threat. He didn’t return to His nap and leave them to confront the storm alone. I don’t think He expected them to sit passively and pretend that no danger existed. This wasn’t the proper time to join hands and sing, “Kum ba yah.”

Instead, He dramatically demonstrated that He was in control. He put the winds and waves in proper perspective and showed the disciples that perilous physical circumstances shrink in the face of eternal faith.

The storm passes, the fury subsides. That doesn’t mean we ought to ignore them or enjoy them or pretend they’re not dangerous.

Jesus never dismisses our struggles or fears, and He doesn’t expect me to deny the realities of my injury. He felt the full wrath of physical suffering; He knows the horrors of a body wracked with pain. He begged for relief even when He knew that His torture was the only way.

Jesus willingly endured the cross because He retained an eternal perspective. He dreaded the tomb, but held firmly to the glory beyond it.

What storm rages for you right now? How can you look beyond the fury to the calmness of eternity?

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I do not believe that sheer suffering teaches. If suffering alone taught, all the world would be wise, since everyone suffers. To suffering must be added mourning, understanding, patience, love, openness and the willingness to remain vulnerable.

I spend much of my time these days seeking creative ways to tell my story. In the past few days I’ve been blessed to speak to two diverse groups about adversity and resilience.

I’m convinced that an account of a senseless accident does little to help, encourage, or inspire. But I’m learning that when it’s combined with personal vulnerability, the story can serve as a catalyst for powerful and profound interactions.I try to be as honest as possible with my audience, which usually means sharing significantly more about my mistakes and failures than anything resembling wisdom. In fact, I think people can best learn from my experiences by understanding my choices and then doing the opposite. With that in mind, here’s what I’ve discovered about resilience in the face of adversity.

• Acceptance—Adversity is an unpleasant fact of life. Sometimes life dumps on us, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Don’t like it, can’t change it. Complaining and blaming only delay the inevitable point at which we must recognize the reality: It is what it is.
• Focus—After complaining and blaming, my next impulse involves worrying. Most of what I worry about either never happens, already happened, or really isn’t important, but I invest enormous amounts of emotional energy, time, and resources with needless worry. I invent concerns, while fully knowing that I almost never anticipate the really bad stuff anyway. Resilience requires me to redirect that wasted energy, to minimize wasted worry.
• Optimism—A physical therapist once asked me to think of my injury in terms of a circle that represents the 10,000 things I could do before I fell. He cut out a piece to represent the 2,000 things I lost. Then he pointed out that I had to make a choice. I could either dwell on the 2,000 that were lost or the 8,000 that remained.

Resilience doesn’t require me to ignore what’s lost or to pretend that I don’t miss those abilities. It does require that I not allow what I cannot do to interfere with what I can do. It’s what I’ve come to call realistic optimism.

• Creativity—It’s a simplistic-sounding cliché, but adversity and opportunity usually arrive arm-in-arm. Worry is negative imagination about the challenge, while creativity is positive imagination about the opportunity. Resilience requires me to creatively transform obstacle into opportunity.
• Persistence—Adversity invites me to capitulate. First impressions of twenty-one years in a wheelchair involve impossibility, brokenness, and inability. It’s as though I’m programmed to respond to challenge with “I’ll never be able to …”

I’m not a big fan of Pollyanna. When life dumps on me, it’s hard sometimes to simply keep going, but resilience requires that I never give up.

• Perspective—Life in the midst of the storm, whether it’s injury, disease, financial hardship, or relationship issues, can trick me into believing that every event is tragic and life altering. Occasionally I need to step back and chuckle at life’s absurdities. I don’t laugh at my disability, but I can relate numerous stories like this one in which the only rational choice is humor. I can’t take myself too seriously; I need to cultivate a healthy sense of humor.
• Purpose—When I’m committed to a cause bigger than my personal concerns, it’s amazing what I can overcome. Resilience involves setting a goal and creating a plan to accomplish it.
• Faith—I believe that this is the hub around which everything else revolves. I’m not necessarily referring here to “religious” faith, but I need some sort of foundation that allows me to choose hope.

Christopher Reeve had every reason to feel angry and bitter after an accident that robbed him of body, career, and eventually life. Instead of choosing despair, he chose hope and said, “Once you choose hope, anything’s possible.”

Jim Wallis said it this way: “Faith allows you to hope in spite of the evidence, and then watch the evidence change.”

Which of these attributes of resilience is most challenging for you? What’s a small (or large) step you can take toward a more resilient attitude?

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