Lessons from Pippin

When you think of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, who do you think of? Aragorn, the man who becomes King of Gondor? Frodo, the tragic bearer of the One Ring? Gandalf, whose epic power knows no bounds? Or Samwise, the faithful friend?

Or how about Pippin?

Not likely.

Pippin is not a hero. Not in any sense of the word. In the movie, he is somewhat clueless and happy-go-lucky. Of the four Hobbits, he is the least likely hero. So what does that make Pippin? The comic relief?
Usually, he’s the idiot. He's the one who alerts the goblins (and the wonderful cave troll) that the Fellowship is in Moria. He's the one who blows Frodo's cover in Bree. He (along with Merry and Sam) cooks food because he's hungry, alerting the Nazgul where the Hobbits are hiding. And he's the one who gets an apple thrown at his head by a frustrated Aragorn because, again, he's hungry.

But is that the extent of his character? His purpose? Not really.

In The Two Towers, Pippin has one small stroke of genius by telling Treebeard to take them to Isengard, which causes Fangorn Forest to go to war. Then he shows his true worth and character in The Return of the King where he fights alongside Gandalf and the soldiers of Gondor during the Battle of Minas Tirith.

Pippin, though an idiot, shows that not everyone has to be Frodo and carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. He wasn't even the guy who stayed by Frodo until the end or won a major victory and become king!

At the end of the day, Pippin was the guy who danced on tables singing drinking songs. He was the good guy everyone loves. He wasn't brilliant or powerful or talented. He was normal. He was himself almost an "everyman" character.

God doesn’t call everyone to carry heavy burdens like Frodo’s Ring. Not everyone has earth-shattering, heart-breaking testimonies of God’s power. Lord knows that there have been times I’ve listened to other people share testimonies and wish I had been on drugs at some point, or had something to beef up my testimony. But God has a purpose for us, just like Pippin had a purpose.

Sometimes being normal isn’t bad. Sometimes, it’s exactly what God wants you to be.

Need for Value

You know those occasional blog posts I do that are really just a way for me to cry out and see if anyone’s listening and if anyone knows or understands how I feel? This is one of those. So, if you’re not interested, don’t continue.

I’m the third child in my family, the youngest. And, quite frankly, sometimes I feel like I’m the least noticeable. I don’t try to make trouble for my parents. Lord knows they have enough on their plates as is. But often I feel like I’m a mistake, like I’m extra. Now, my family would vehemently deny this, but it’s true. I feel as though sometimes I’m a random accident. My sister, well, she’s a miracle child. I’ve heard the story of her birth so many times I could recite it backwards and forwards. But me? I’m nothing special. I just randomly popped out about twenty months after she did.

And often, I feel like, for better and worse, I live in the shadows of my siblings. Which is really frustrating, let me tell you.

I need to find a purpose! And not like I need to read A Purpose-Driven Life. I mean that these days I struggle to find a reason for my existence. I look for a purpose. Why am I here? And if someone recites the idiotic catechism about the chief role of man is to praise God and honor him, I’m going to scream. Because, while that is my ultimate purpose, there’s times when I need something more concrete, something that says I’m not a mistake. I need to know that I’m worth the time. That I’ll be remembered. That I’m not a worthless piece off biology that came into being.

I know that for some people, this sounds ludicrous. Stupid even. But, I’ll imagine that most of you are extremely secure in your positions in your family and don’t have a precarious field that is your realm of study (or you’re a teenager whose main goal in life is to have fun and survive high school).

I guess part of this is issues from this summer, where I worked behind the scenes at a camp, and I felt like, other than making some money for college, I didn’t do anything of value or significance.  And I’m still struggling because, unlike my siblings, I feel like I have to work extremely hard to fight to just be me, to prove to myself and people around me that I am worth it! That I have some value.

And I’m studying in a really small field in a super selective program. Again, chosen because of my rather paltry skill set, and because I felt like it would get me to my goals. But unlike so many in my major, I suffer from feeling like a fraud of a writer. I’m not active enough in my writing or prolific. I don’t succeed where so many others have. I’m just average. I’m just boring. So, am I worth it?

Great question, answers…. Lacking, I’m afraid. How do you prove to yourself that you have significance and value? I don’t know. I need to have a real purpose, something that God has that only I can do. I know, that’s likely rather prideful and pig-headed. But it’s something that I know I need. I need to know that I’m not a mistake, or a failure. I want so desperately to know God’s plan for me because then I could say definitively that there is a specific reason I am here and that God did not create someone else in my stead.

So, is there anyone else out there like me? Or am I alone in the questions and doubts? And fears?

Apologies

Well, I guess I ought to apologize, at least to those who enjoy reading my blog somewhat often. This last semester has been insane. I was taking 18 credit hours at Taylor, so the blog became less important in my priorities.  

This post is not going to be really very inspirational. Mostly I’m just saying sorry that I dropped the ball in keeping up my blog. I started it as a discipline, writing a new post each week. I will start posting more regularly again this summer. And after a semester of absence, I think I have quite a bit of material to write from. Plus this summer presents some challenges too. But I will get back to writing again. This is a promise I make to myself and to you all who read this blog.

Thank you who do read the blog and have helped me through this last year. It has been a wild ride. But I hope that it only continues. God has plans for my life, and for the lives of those I love. I can’t wait to see them.

After all, I believe that the best is yet to come.

Nathan

Death Be Not Proud

"DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for, thou art not so."
 --Death Be Not Proud, John Donne

Death, be not proud. There is no pride in anything you did today. You stole life from a great man, a beloved man.

Josh Larkin was a great man of God. I did not know him well, not beyond a few interactions during lunch or the occasional time I saw him on his floor. But even to me, his fire and passion were clearly seen. They warmed my heart. His presence encouraged those who knew him. He created music and movies. He worshiped God with every breath. He loved his Maker.

Death, be not proud.

Josh Larkin was a Media Comm major. His soul burned brightly with creativity. he played in Worship bands in Chapel, small groups, and Living Waters. He prayed with those in need. He gave of himself selflessly. He shone with the Light of his Savior.

Death, be not proud. For in your hollow supposed victory, you have lost. You have no power here. You may have taken Josh's life, but, poor Fool, you can never have his soul.

Within hours of Josh's death, the men of Sammy gathered in the Foundation lobby, praying for one another and grieving. When asked to go outside, they did without comment, silence reigning in respect and shock. News traveled quickly. By the time I returned to the dorm at 8:20, many people from all over campus sat around the dorm, praying for the men living inside and crying, sobbing, asking God, "Why?" Why did he die? What went wrong? What could we, could I have done? Josh was much beloved on campus.

Professors I knew and even the president of Taylor University, Gene Habecker, came to the dorm, meeting with us men, talking with us, hugging us, praying with us. There was and is nothing they could say to take away the sharp pain of losing such a wonderful man.

So, Death, be not proud. In your haste to snuff out the light of Josh's soul, you have failed extinguish the Light.

Tonight, many on campus came to a quick, small memorial service to process and pray. Songs were sung, verses from the Psalms and the Beatitudes we said, and Randy and Gene spoke to us as a body of believers. Students and faculty came to process the horror that Death had wrought. But in his death, we all remember Josh's light, the same light that made us love him. His honest, unassuming manner made us feel free around him. His light drew people to him, and ignited the wicks of their hearts.

"One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die."

Death, be not proud. Where is your sting? Where is your victory?

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
--Romans 8:38-39

Rest in peace, Josh.

Wounded Healers

So, I guess it might be one of those "back to square one" moments.

Let me explain myself. I know this may seem rather annoying, but I just realized that, in so many words, something I'd thought I'd gotten over I actually haven't. It just came back with a new face. The name of this nasty "thing"? Listening to the Mirror.

Once upon a time the evil Queen asked her Mirror who was the fairest in all the land. Ever since that day, we humans have looked to mirrors, both real and metaphysical, to define us. Not that I'm bashing real mirrors. I rather like the real ones, because they're nice enough to tell me whether I look nice or like a slob, or when I have a pimple that looks like a third eye protruding from the middle of my forehead. What I hate are the metaphysical ones. Because the fact is the old saying, "Mirrors never lie" is false in and of itself.

Now, I guess in reality, I'm not talking about mirrors but about Satan. I'm talking about how he just loves to make me look at a warped view of myself, a destructive window to my soul, and then try to take away every single shred of joy or happiness I could try to have. He makes me focus on my failures to the point where I'm completely blinded to anything but them. And I begin to despair because of those failures. I guess I'm kind of good at that. In fact, from what my friends keep telling me, I tend to focus on everything I do wrong a lot. But, because I am me, a recovering perfectionist and a rather hurt soul, I see what I do wrong a lot more than I see what I do right.

And for me, because I know I struggle with pride, it feels a lot safer to focus on everything about me that I hate, that I don't like or that I do wrong than what I like about myself and what I do right. I know that it seems rather stupid, but it makes sense in my mind. Plus, after years upon years of doing it, it's become a habit.

And of course other thoughts revolve in my head about this, but I'm pretty sure you don't want to read them. Knowing and commiserating with my struggle is one thing. Hearing about it constantly, without any hope of resolution, of any healing or end? Well, who'd want to read about that?

Ironically, I was taught a truth about myself from the most unlikely place: Grumpy the dwarf. In the show Once Upon A Time, he says to Snow White that pain is important. Rather than take anything that could make him forget, he'd rather hold on to the pain. It made him who he was, became a part of his character. it made him Grumpy.

Now, I'm not saying being a grumpy person is a good thing! Been there, done that, looking for a lighter so I can burn the T-shirt. But the fact is that we "walking wounded," as Henri Nouwen might put it, are wounded healers. We know pain, we know hurt, and because of that we know how to help others with the pain. We know the pain. We know the deep, deep hurt. We wounded healers know the how deep the depths of despair can be. We know the feelings of hopelessness, so we know how to give hope. We see where people are, and we can show them the light by which we see so they can leave the pits, the valleys of Death's enormous shadows.

Now that may seem like wishful thinking on my part, but I know this to be true. Not that I have helped others, but because I have been helped by others. Others who have gone through the same things. And others who have found ways out of the pain of failure. People who have found victory.

These people have led me to Christ. He, who is the Ultimate Wounded Healer, knows the pain of despair. He knows what it feels like to lose hope. He knows abandonment. But He also knows how to heal those hurts. And it's to Him I point you all. It's Him that I praise, though sometimes my voice falls silent. But even in silence, hope and love are found.

Holy is the Lord, and most worthy of praise.

The Loser's Circle

Greetings, Readers!

Since I last posted, I decided to take a small sabbatical from blog writing. However I also decided not to tell anyone. I am dreadfully sorry, and ask you to please forgive my lack of professionalism.

Actually, that's not true, unless it was a subconscious decision. But it sounds better to say, "I took a much-needed break" than to admit I have been running around like a chicken with it's head forcibly removed by sharp instruments ever since I posted last year in December, and have only just now had enough time, energy, and usable material to create a new blog post.

Okay, now I got that over with, I'm going to quit using such a formal voice. It was fun, but what I have to say can't be said with a stiff upper lip, pretending to look down my nose at readers. Or as though I'm a British professor. Something along those lines.

First off, I'll try to explain the title. These days I feel very much like a loser. No, this is not some cheesy gag trying to extol the virtues of being "a Loser for Christ" and giving up one's life to follow him. If I ever do that, I sincerely hope one of my dear friends will be kind enough to walk up behind me and hit me upside the head (aka, Gibbs slap me). Honestly I do feel like a loser, literally. I lose a lot. Not just in sports. Though in that area, I feel almost cursed as, inexorably, whenever I play or watch a sporting event, the team I cheer or play for loses. Every time.

This January has brought that into sharp focus as I play Volleyball and struggle because I feel as though my presence simply brings down the team, that they would be better off if I didn't play. More than once I have lost my temper because, after two weeks of playing, my team has won only a single game, and the other team was sadly pathetic. So I'm not sure I should even count that as a victory. But every other game we always lose, and I feel terrible about it, wondering if I might have been able to prevent it just by not showing up.

But it seems to show up elsewhere too. I feel often not good enough because I find that I fail to achieve any goals which include winning something important. Scholarships? Can't seem to get any. Writing contests? Never good enough. And if you combine the two? Failure after failure after failure rises before my eyes, and makes me want to curl into a hopeless little ball. And it never helps when I see someone else I know win them because it's always a bittersweet experience. I'm happy for them, but I feel jealous inside, wishing I was as good as they.

I never feel as though I measure up, to myself, or anyone else.Other people (aka, my parents) say they see potential in me, but sometimes I wonder of they even know what that means. When you face so many other writers and excellent professionals and student in your field, when you always seem to fall short, I wonder if they know what they're talking about because they clearly cannot mean me. They haven't met the people who clearly have potential, because if they had, they would never mistake me as having it.

But, thankfully I have friends. Friends who tell me that there is something more, that there is a reason. Because of them I have hope again. I have to believe that God somehow has some purpose for me, that being in the "loser's circle" has some significance, some meaning some value! There has to be more than just constantly being cursed to lose. There has to be some sort of purpose, something going on that will give this, give me, a reason to continue. I need and want hope.

And please, DO NOT leave comments, email or Facebook message me, or anything just to tell me "You're not a loser, Nathan!" (Think I put enough emphasis on "Don't"?) In all honesty, I don't want to hear that. It doesn't actually make a dent, no offense. And don't recite Jeremiah 29:11 at me. That verse has become so clichéd that it actually sickens me to hear it. It loses more of it's meaning every time someone tells me to read it or look it up. That's not my purpose in writing. I'm not looking to get a bunch of sympathy cards. I want to try to maybe encourage you, even though sometimes I wish i could do the same for myself.


God has a purpose for me. Sometimes I doubt it. In my darkest moments, I give in to feeling like an accident without meaning. But that is not a way to live. That is a way to die. I believe that God has a purpose because sometimes I have to in order to just keep breathing, to fight the waves of depression I face. It is the rpoe to which I cling, and sometimes from which I receive burn marks when the trials of life cause it to start slipping through my hands. But it's still there. I believe it.


Sometimes, that's all we have. Knowledge stops, but belief can be eternal. Belief is powerful. Belief acts when nothing else can, when reason fails and discernment falters. Belief gives life to the dead and dying heart.


If I, the modern chief of losers (at least in my opinion), can believe that God has a purpose for me, then you, my dear, dear reader, can know that God does have a plan for you. That He will accomplish his purpose for you, though it might be obscure right now. His plan will be brought to light, into glorious light, and you will see the beautiful plan He created for you all along. A plan that will glorify Him, even in your failures.


Holy is the Lord, and worthy of praise.