In the mid-nineteen nineties a documentary film called, “Hoop Dreams” achieved a high level of critical acclaim and a notable level of financial success for a film of its genre. It told the story of two very talented, young basketball players (William Gates and Arthur Agee), from the housing projects of Chicago, who were recruited to play for the prestigious private high school “St. Joseph’s” (alma mater of basketball star – Isaiah Thomas) in nearby Westchester, Illinois.
As the story begins there are many reasons to believe that these young men will get the opportunity to fulfill their dream of one day playing in the NBA. Their talent is evident, their confidence is high, and they are both supported by strong, loving families, who are fully committed to them. To say that expectations were high would be somewhat of an understatement; yet as the story unfolds the harsh realities of life begin to take their toll. Financial struggles, academic struggles, and injuries create unexpected detours. As the film ends, though the dream remains alive, the outlook for the future seems greatly diminished.
More than 20 years after the release of this film we now know that neither of these men had notable college basketball careers, nor did they go on to play in the NBA. Though both men overcame numerous obstacles and emerged from the mean streets that eventually took William’s brother (murdered in 2001) and Arthur’s father (murdered in 2004), it is hard not to feel a sense of disappointment at how this story turned out. But shouldn’t the fact that these two young men got the opportunity to attend college, and build legitimate careers for themselves (Gates in real estate and Agee as a teacher) be cause for celebration; shouldn’t the fact that their basketball talent was sufficient enough to break them out of the destructive pattern, that consumed so many of the young men that they grew up with, warrant at least a cheer?
If we could view their story, apart from the expectation that they would one day play in the NBA, it would undoubtedly make it easier to see that their lives are in fact a success story. It is not really the outcome of their lives that seems so sad, it is this unfulfilled expectation that creates the sense of disappointment?
While we generally attribute our disappointment to bad outcomes, I would suggest that more often than not, it is really rooted in faulty expectations. While it was certainly not wrong to recognize their potential or to encourage them to pursue their lofty goals, when you factor in the odds of any high school athlete making it to the pro’s, was it really reasonable to “expect” that to happen?
There are few emotions in life that are as crushing as disappointment, and it is not only our own disappointments that affect us. As a husband I am acutely aware of my wife’s disappointment, and as a father I am also painfully aware of the things that cause my children to feel disappointed. For me, their disappointment is almost harder to endure than my own.
As a parent I’ve found myself deflecting some of my children’s expectations by using my parent’s old favorite line, “We’ll see”. I always hated that answer when I was a kid, and I’m sure that my children don’t like it any better. But having experienced their disappointment, I can’t help but think that at times it is wise to temper their expectations, which often seem to escalate without warning. It’s amazing how quickly the vague hope of “maybe we can try to get to the amusement park sometime this summer” becomes the tearful disappointment of “but you promised we would go to the amusement park!”
While many parents would likely agree with this tempering approach, the danger in taking that too far is that it would discourage them from expecting anything and a life that is lived without some sense of expectancy is a life devoid of hope. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to understand that hope is just as essential to our souls as water is to our bodies. Lowering expectations just for the sake of avoiding disappointment is a lot like forfeiting a game to avoid losing.
As a man with a failed marriage behind me, I can understand the impulse that says, “I’m never going to let myself get hurt like that again”, but the cost of such a decision is to allow the pain of the past to dictate the future. Of course blindly repeating the same pattern and expecting the results to be different is just an alternate form of insanity. Ultimately I think it is necessary to take a hard look at our expectations, and the way that they were formed.
Whether we’re conscious of it or not, our expectations are driven by the things we’ve invested our hope in. When my first marriage ended I did a lot of soul-searching, and I realized that I had invested too much of my identity and hope in that relationship, which is why when it ended I was so confused about who I really was, and whether I had a viable future. I began to realize that a lot of the devastation that I felt inside was because of my own faulty expectations about what marriage was and what it would bring to my life.
The popular cultural portrayal of relationships had conveyed the message that if I could just find the right person they would make me happy; but in the aftermath of a dozen years of marriage, I could see that no other person could genuinely be responsible for my happiness, and that putting that kind of burden on a relationship is a great way to destroy it. When I chose to remarry a couple of years later, that revelation alone made a huge difference in how I viewed marriage, which has ultimately made all the difference in the almost twenty years that have passed since then.
It can be difficult to discern what we’ve actually invested our hope in, because often what we tell ourselves (and other people) isn’t really the truth of our hearts. I believe that one of the best ways to find that deeper truth is to examine our moments of greatest disappointment, and our times of greatest anxiety about the future. To be truly disappointed one would had to have expected some different outcome; while anxiety about the future is generally rooted in the sense of lacking something that will be essential down the road. If we can get a clear picture of what is behind our expectations and/or what we view as “essential” for the future, we can begin to see what we’ve truly invested our hope and sense of security in.
As I’ve watched the value of my 401K fluctuate wildly with stock market swings, it has been tempting to be anxious about the future, but I have to ask myself – is that really what I’ve invested my security in for the future. If the answer to that question is “yes”, than the revelation of this hour is that I’ve made a bad investment (of my hope).
While it’s not wrong to save for the future, God never intended for our security to be wrapped up in our investment portfolio; nor did He intend for our identity to be wrapped up in our job; nor did He intend for our sense of value to come from how we look, or what others might be thinking about us. Ultimately our sense of purpose, provision, value, well-being, fulfillment, and security are all things that He’s reserved for Himself. To the degree that we have invested those things in something other than Him, we are sure to be disappointed. Though it doesn’t feel like a blessing, it is a measure of His grace when circumstances come along which reveal the counterfeit nature of these things.
It is easy enough to tell whether we’ve invested ourselves in the things of this world, because our lives will be a continuous rollercoaster of highs and lows. Like little children, we’ll be overly excited about new things and then crushingly disappointed when they don’t live up to our inflated expectations.
The scripture teaches that we prepare the way of the Lord by making straight pathways; bringing the valleys up and the mountains low. I would suggest that this is a picture of someone who has invested their whole being in the person of Jesus Christ; who is never changing and everlasting. Investing in anything else is precarious at best, and in this case, diversification isn’t a viable hedge against loss.
In the era we live in, we’re seeing things, we once thought of as cornerstones, crumble before our eyes (e.g. the institution of marriage), as the darkness seems to be on the offensive. It is a people who are fully invested in Christ that carry the hope of His Glory being manifest on the earth, and thus, all of creation continues to wait in the eager expectation of those children being revealed.
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The Cares of Life
Posted in Commentaries, Opinions, tagged cares of life, cast your cares, fix your eyes on Jesus, fruitfulness, Parable of the Seed and the Sower on August 15, 2017| Leave a Comment »
One of the more familiar parables of Jesus has come to be known as “The Parable of the Seed and the Sower” (or sometimes just the Parable of the Sower). This title is somewhat of a misnomer, as the focal point of the story is neither the seed nor the sower; ultimately, it is about the soil. And for those of us who count ourselves as believers, it is the words in verse 22 that most directly apply.
Matthew 13:22 “Now he who received seed among the thorns is he who hears the word, and the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches choke the word, and he becomes unfruitful.” (NKJV)
Implicit in the manner this example is given, the depth of ones roots is not at issue here. The lack of a deep rooted faith is addressed in verses 20-21. This passage speaks to the object of our focus, and it may be surprising to consider that it isn’t necessarily sin or evil that chokes off the seed of God for the believer. Often times it is simply the cares of this life. It also worth noting that the consequence of this distraction isn’t necessarily the loss of one’s salvation, it is generally a lack of fruitfulness.
It is tempting to gloss over the words and to convince ourselves that He is talking about caring about what the world cares about (i.e. fame, social status, the praise of men…), and/or about being greedy, but I sense the message of this passage runs much deeper than that. I believe that the “cares of this world” quite naturally occur as part of living in a fallen world, and dealing with the world’s system for getting things done. I also sense that when He speaks of “riches”, He isn’t necessarily talking about money. He’s referencing what the world sees as valuable.
On a personal level, this passage hits me where I live. As I’ve endeavored to answer the upward call of God upon my life, being a good husband, a good father and a good neighbor have become a much higher priority. But embracing those roles also creates an endless supply of practical issues that need to be dealt with, and those things often grab hold of my attention and require the bulk of my energy. In those instances the reality of my circumstance tends to overwhelm my grasp of the reality of God’s word, and when it does, I flounder.
No doubt, there is a balancing point that needs to be reached with all this, as we are called to be in the world, but not of it. It is an equilibrium which I doubt that I’ve experienced for any sustained amount of time. I don’t generally struggle on issues that relate to me personally, but I can be very susceptible when it comes to the people I love. The truth be told, I often ride the rollercoaster of their situation until it dawns on me how nauseous it is making me, and I choose to step off. In those moments I must cast my cares on Him who sustains me. And when I do, I always wonder at my tendency to get back on that ride.
Jesus said that the key to producing fruit was “abiding in the vine”, which means maintaining a constant connection to Him. The Hebrew writer encourages us to fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith. Ultimately, it’s all a question of what we’re focused on. Like Peter, we are capable of “all things” when we’re looking unto Jesus, but when we fix our eyes on the storm, we are bound to sink.
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