Smeagol is Free!
A hermitudinal view of...stuff...


He Don't Hate Me

At least this time, he didn't tell me he hated me.

Gary's call was quite timely. I'd been in somewhat of a lockdown mode for several days, and without realizing it, had processed quite a bit of information in the dark recesses of my mind. His phone call was flip of the switch that turned on the light in my brain, allowing me to see what had been going on in there.

Boyce College has closed its doors on the Fall 2006 semester. We've still got our finals left, but as far as classroom time is concerned, we're done. The time came upon me quickly, and I don't think I was ready for it, yet as is Time's wont, the semester also went by in a furious blur and flurry of activity. I often felt as though it left little time for reflection; therefore, I took several days to do so. As I looked back over the past three months, I was sobered by one overwhelming consistency: failure.

I told Gary that I felt like the LORD had taught me some very important lessons over the long and slow summer months. (One of you even asked me to write a post on those lessons, a request I turned into a series stretching well over a week.) Thus, at the end of another season, and in the midst of some serious reflection, I wanted to take a pointed look back and gauge how well I'd learned those lessons. The verdict? Failure. Why? It's simple, really. If the consummation of a lesson learned is its application, one not only must be able to apply a lesson in order to say that one has learned that lesson, one must apply that lesson.

Take, for instance, humility. I'd read a good portion of C.J. Mahaney's book on humility over the summer, and many of the passages of Scripture the LORD saturated me with positively swam with that theme. The strong conviction I'd felt at the beginning of the semester went something like this: if I'm going to lead, I must do so with service, and if I'm going to lead by service, then that service must be founded upon humility, because if I divorce humility from service, I'm serving in pride, and pride is no characteristic of those who lead.

Believe me, that conviction went out the door quickly.

Oh, I still saw pride all over the place, all right.

In others.

We talked about leadership, and how it can be a very lonely position. He told me that God takes those who lead and separates them, sends them off to lead others. I told Gary that he needs to learn to lie to me, and tell me that I'll always be around 'Drew and Scott and Boss for the rest of my life. I also told Gary that I'm afraid. The reason? It's not because I'm scared of what God is going to use me for, but because I'm scared of what He'll do to break me, mold me, refine me, and strengthen me. I mean, seriously, I'm sick of my sin and failure, especially when I'm supposed to be "leading" others. If it were up to me, I'd gladly take that spot as a garbage man back at home; I could surf all day, and not worry about this crazy calling from God thing. But you know what? I'd be miserable. I'd be disobedient. And I'd be wasting my life.

Gary listened to me for a good while, then told me to hurry it up, 'cause he had a dinner to go to. I think he calls me when he only has a short amount of time on purpose, 'cause he knows I'm a Pocho with a big mouth. Before he had to go, though, he gave me something to chew on: the process of the lessons I'd learned and failed to apply, in and of itself, is a lesson that God is teaching me even now. I'm thinking of it as a "lesson within a lesson." Leave it to Gary to point out something like that. Always teaching, always the Teacher. Thanks, Gary.

posted by Bolo | 11:44 PM
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