Hurdles

As I write this, I am watching the gold medal game of women's beach volleyball from the Olympics in London. Unfortunately, I already know who wins. NBC's primetime program is on delay because of the time difference between Great Britain and the U.S., and after I logged off of my email earlier today, it took me straight to MSN, where the top headline announced the winner of the match. Really, MSN? You had to put it in big bold letters where I couldn't help but see it? You really just didn't want me to be as interested in watching the match?

Isn't it funny how a person can spend hours laying on the couch watching the Olympics? The games feature the greatest athletes in the world--people who have disciplined themselves and trained in order to be in pristine physical shape. And I celebrate that by....inactivity. I feel like the people who compete in the Olympics probably aren't people who would watch much of the Olympics themselves. They'd be too busy running and lifting weights and drinking Gatorade or something. In spite of my lethargy over the past couple weeks, watching the athletes has motivated me to start getting into better shape. I even bought a new pair of running shoes so that I can make it a habit of running. The only thing I hate worse than getting up early and jogging is to waste money, so the fact that I've put some cash down on these shoes should be adequate motivation. 

Earlier tonight I watched a few heats of the men's 110-meter hurdles. I really enjoy watching hurdles because it reminds me of my days as an athlete. That's right, I was on my middle school's track team. Don't act so surprised. Especially since there were no cuts, and anyone who wanted to compete could. In any case, when I was in seventh grade, I was a hurdler. Not a good one, mind you. This was due to a couple reasons. For one thing, I was dreadfully slow. For another, I was scared of falling over a hurdle. The idea of tripping over a hurdle and tumbling face-first to the rubber track seemed unpleasant to say the least, so I took great care to ensure I cleared each one comfortably.

I can proudly affirm that during my entire athletic career, I never tripped over a hurdle. Cleared every one just fine. However, I also never won a race. I never received a ribbon at a meet. I never even won a heat. I always arrived at the finish line free of scraped knees, but I also always arrived after several other runners. 

A good hurdle can't be afraid of the hurdles. He doesn't jump as high as he can in order to guarantee a safe passage. He stays as low as he can, barely scraping over the barriers during his race to the finish. Sometimes, he might even knock a hurdle, but he doesn't let that stop him. He keep making his charge. His focus is on the finish line, and if you watch the eyes of a hurdler during the race, they are always fixed at the finish, not on the hurdles.

In life, we all face a number of hurdles. We face difficulties and tragedies that threaten to trip us up. We are forced to deal with heartache and failed expectations and hardship--unfulfilled dreams, broken relationships. lost jobs, deaths of loved ones. The list could go on. However, just as an athlete doesn't live in fear of the hurdles, we shouldn't let the reality of living in a broken world cause us to stop moving forward. A hurdler keeps running hard when he brushes a hurdle, and so too a person who navigates life well doesn't give up when faced with an obstacle. He understands that the hurdles are part of the race, and when you get over one, there's another one waiting for you.

At the same time, a hurdler can't run the race like the hurdles aren't there at all. He doesn't run like someone competing in the 100-meter dash. Not fearing the hurdles doesn't mean ignoring the hurdles. Because if a hurdler was to run as if the hurdles weren't there, he would crash into the very first one and fall to the track in a heap of tears. 

There are some who try to live life as if the hurdles will never come. They think that life is an open track before them, and that it will be easy and comfortable. Such a person is unprepared to run the race well and is surprised when that first hurdle comes. But we shouldn't be surprised by difficulties in life. Jesus himself guaranteed that we would have trouble in this life (Jn. 16:33), and the one who crumbles under such difficulty is like the seed on rocky soil that springs up quickly but withers when trouble comes. 

It's not a bad idea to consider how you think of the track laid out in front of you in your life. Personally, there are times when I live in fear of the hurdles, and I do all I can to avoid them, which keeps me from living faithfully and steadfastly. At other times, I act like there shouldn't be any hurdles at all, and I get upset and complain when life doesn't go as I think it should. The goal, then, is to adopt the attitude of a true hurdler: prepared for the obstacles but unwilling to let them throw you off course. Keep moving toward the finish line. 

Gold Medal Moment

I love the Olympics.

That fact might surprise a few people. I don't really look like the type of guy that would be too interested in sports. Just a few days ago, I overheard a couple of my coworkers talking, and I asked if they were talking about the USA basketball team, and one of them said, "Oh yeah, I always forget that David follows sports." I don't know why that always comes as such a shock to people. Must be the glasses.

Anyways, I absolutely love watching the Olympics. These two weeks are probably my favorite time of each four years. I love watching sports that I normally don't get a chance to see, I love rooting on the USA and Slovakia, I love thinking about what it'd be like to live in a Scandinavian country where all the women are so pretty. But what I love most of all is being a witness to some of the greatest performances in sporting history--to see those defining moments that will be remembered by the world for a long time to come.

Just last night, I was able to witness a couple powerful moments. I saw the USA's women's gymnastics team win the gold medal for the first time since 1998, which was a very good thing to see since two nights ago I had to endure seeing Jordyn Wieber bawl her eyes out in the background while NBC was interviewing the girl who beat her in securing a place in the all-around competition. Last night I also saw Michael Phelps win his 18th and 19th medals, making him the most decorated Olympian in history and setting a record that I may not see broken in my lifetime.

They Olympics are great for moments like these, and I remember witnessing other such moments from past Olympics. I remember watching Muhammed Ali light the Olympic torch in Atlanta in 1996. I remember seeing Kerri Strug landing a vault on a sprained ankle, and I remember watching Michael Johnson run in gold shoes in those same games. I remember seeing Marion Jones win a few gold medals in 2000 (and I also remember when she had to give them back for doping). I remember watching the Canadian figure skating pair get jipped by the French judge in 2002. I remember seeing Phelps win the 200-butterfly by .01 seconds, and I remember witnessing Jason Lezak chase down the French team to win the 4x100 relay for the U.S. in 2008. And finally, I remember asking along with the rest of the world, "Are those Chinese gymnasts really old enough to compete?"

These Olympic moments are ones I may never forget. They've become a part of our world's story. (And, I might as well add, there are numerous other sporting moments that I'll always remember watching: Kansas' Mario Chalmers nailing a three to send the national championship to overtime in 2008; Santonio Holmes' sideline touchdown catch to win the Super Bowl for the Steelers in 2009; Lebron James scoring his team's last 25 points in a double-overtime playoff victory of the Pistons in 2007).

The thing about these moments is that they don't just happen. They developed out of all the smaller, unknown decisions made by those athletes. They came from choices to pass on dessert, to do one more rep in the weightroom, to take one more practice shot, to not hit the snooze button, to run one more lap. An athlete prepares himself every day to rise to the occasion and to perform in that gold-medal moment.

I wonder what the "defining moments" of my life would look like. Have I lived a life worthy of a video montage with a swelling theme playing in the background? Will my life be full of moments in which I elevate my game at crunch time? I want there to be moments when I choose wisely, live sacrificially, and take risks, but I worry that there will be more moments that I flake out on relationships, reside in safety and comfort, and take the easy road. I want there to be replays of me coming home strong and out-touching my opponent, not coasting in and taking silver. I want there to be more thrill of victory and less agony of defeat.

Gold medal athletes can teach us a lot about how to live life, I think. They understand sacrifice, hard work, perseverance, pressure, and excelling at the right moment. Those are all things that, quite frankly, I don't do well in my life, but that's not the way it needs to remain. At some point in life, each of those athletes set their sights on their goal and said, "I'm going to do whatever it takes to get there, to feel that medal around my neck, to hear my nation's anthem playing." And in life, it starts with that same sort of vision. It starts with saying, "This is the type of life I want to live, and I'm going to make choices today with how I spend my time, how I interact with other people, how I direct my thoughts, in order to make that life happen."

Past My Prime

I'm out of shape.

This morning I went to a nearby park and shot baskets for a while. I played basketball all the time when I was in high school and college, but since I moved to Cincinnati last year, it's an activity that I have sadly neglected, mainly because I haven't had anywhere to play. In fact, this morning was the first time I've even taken a shot in six months or so, and the results were...saddening. I quickly realized that athletic ability has a way of deteriorating if it goes unused, and I had very little such ability to begin with. I was very thankful that there weren't too many other people at the park to witness my airballs and tears.

As I continued to chase my basketball around the court off of long rebounds, I thought about how doing well in something like shooting a basketball requires consistent effort and dedication. My problem isn't just that I've lost my shooting touch, but that I haven't done much of anything physical for ages. Today was the first time I had moved faster than a brisk walk in a long time. After just five minutes, the muscles in the legs ached, my knees were stiff, and my back, neck, and shoulder all hurt. I haven't felt so physically weak since I had knee surgery several years ago.

In college, I tried to stay pretty active. I played all of the intramural sports, I played pick-up basketball when I got a chance. Even a good game of ping-pong could be physically exerting. (I know that sounds ridiculous, but you haven't seen some of my ping-pong games.) Since then, however, I don't do these things. Instead, I lay around on my couch with my computer and TV.

Being in good shape physically takes effort and training, and today I realized that I need to give more attention to this part of my life. After all, I'll never get a date as long as I have the physique of Gumby. I also thought about how this same principle is true in other areas of life as well. Physical well-being requires upkeep, but so do other things. For example, it takes effort to remain mentally sharp. If you never challenge your mind, it atrophies just like a muscle does. Relationships are the same way. A healthy relational life requires work just like anything else.

The same is even true of your spirituality. A healthy, vibrant relationship with God doesn't just happen. Just like any relationship, it requires your involvement. A robust spirituality comes from spiritual training. 1 Timothy 4:7-8 says, "Train yourself for godliness; for while bodily training is of some value, godliness is of value in every way, as it holds promise for the present life and also for the life to come." In several other places, the apostle Paul compares the Christian life to an athlete competing in the games or running a race. If athletic ability deteriorates by inactivity, so too does spiritual health.

I think that these four areas of life--physical, mental, relational, and spiritual health--are especially important for a person's health as a whole. What is interesting to me is that when one of these four is neglected and begins to atrophy, the others easily follow suit. I haven't lost my physical strength because I've been so busy nurturing my mind. My mental agility has also waned. So too have my relationships, and, if I'm to be honest, my spirituality. When you lose discipline in one of these areas, it's easy to abandon the others as well, and instead of growing, challenging yourself, and remaining disciplined, you find yourself sprawled out on your couch with White Cheddar Cheez-Its crumbs on your chest, rewatching the same old YouTube videos and commenting on every profile picture of the hot girl that sits in front of you in class.

By the time I got this far through this thought process while I was shooting baskets, I was really starting to "feel the burn," as they say. The day was growing hotter and my muscles had just about had enough. It was at that time that I started thinking about how to reverse the lazy, apathetic trend that has developed in my life in each of these four areas. I started thinking about how purposeful training is needed physically, mentally, relationally, and spiritually.

A successful athlete has a training regimen. He gives attention every day to growing stronger, faster, and more skillful. We need this physically. But we need something similar in these other areas of life as well. My encouragement to you would that, every day, you make it a habit to do something that will enrich your life in each of those four areas--physically, mentally, relationally, and spiritually. I want to do the same. And I'm still thinking about what that might look like, trying to put feet on this idea, so I'd be very interested in hearing your thoughts.  This is all an idea that is an embryonic stage, but I was excited about it today and wanted to share, as well as to hear some helpful response.

I shouldn't be having so much trouble shooting a basketball. I'm 24 years old. I feel like I should be in the prime of my life. The world is open and exciting before me. And I hate to think that I've already passed my prime. But the prime of life doesn't just happen. It's worked for.

I've become lazy, sluggish, procrastinating, weak, and safe. It's time for that to change. So I'm going to start working on getting back into my training. I think it will help me have better blog posts, better conversations, better sermons, deeper relationships, bigger faith, more honest prayers, and a sweeter jump shot.

Then maybe that 12 year-old-kid won't dunk over me next week.

Dependence Day

It's amazing how readily available food is in the United States. Whenever I'm hungry, I can just walk over to my cupboards and can usually pull something out. If I'm out of food in my cupboards, I then have a couple options. I can hop in my car and go through a nearby drive-thru to get my snack fix. If I don't want to do that, I can drive to a grocery store and buy what I need to restock my cupboards. The grocery store Kroger is headquartered here in Cincinnati, and there are at least four Kroger stores within five miles of my apartment. Or, if I'm feeling especially lazy, I can call up any one of the multitude of pizza places in the area, and they'll bring it right to my door. (I always hope that the delivery pizza will be an attractive woman who has time to share my pizza with me while watching episodes of Community, but it always ends up being some college-aged dude who smells like mushrooms. It's a similar situation when I think about who might be in the seat next to me when I go to baseball games or get on an airplane.)

This morning I read about how the Israelites got their food while they were traveling to the Promised Land in Exodus 16. There weren't any Kroger stores on the road through Sinai, and it was a little too far for Pizza Hut to deliver. So when the Israelites began to grumble about not having anything to eat, God himself stepped in and provided. Every morning when the people woke up in their tents and stepped outside to stretch their legs, they found the ground covered with bread. Each person would take what their family needed for that day, and then the next morning God would provide again.

The Israelites were completely dependent on God for their sustenance while in the wilderness. They didn't plant crops at the foot of Mt. Sinai, going out to water them and....mulch them, or whatever people do to make things grow. They only had to trust that God would take care of them. Rather than working for their food, they only needed to receive it as a gift from God.

In Matthew 19:13-15, people start to bring their little children to Jesus so that he can bless them. The disciples decide it's a good time to act like Jesus' bodyguards, so they start to shoo away these parents and their kids. But then Jesus reprimands the disciples and welcomes the children to himself, saying, "For to such belongs the kingdom of heaven."

Jesus expects his followers to be like little children in some way. I suppose there are numerous understandings that a person could have about what exactly Jesus means in this passage, and perhaps his intention isn't meant to be narrowed down to one specific quality. Children can represent innocence. They can represent trust. They can represent wetting the bed and watching cartoons all Saturday morning. But I think that one of the most important qualities of children that Jesus may be pointing to in this passage is that of dependence. A child is unable to adequately care for himself; he is dependent on the provision of his parents.

As an adult, I have several ways to "help myself" when I get hungry, as I have already mentioned. But when I was a little kid, my options were limited. I had to ask my mom for something to eat, and it was because of her care and love for me that she would provide for me. My responsibility as a child wasn't to get in the kitchen and whip up something for myself. It was to receive what was given to me.

The Christian life is a life of dependence. The Israelites needed to depend on God to take care of them in the desert, and we need to depend on God to provide our needs. Being a Christian is about recognizing your need and your ineptitude and receiving what God gives you. It's about understanding that you don't have the power to save yourself but that you need to be saved by another.

In our country, independence is perhaps the most emphasized characteristic of what it means to be a fulfilled person. This doesn't just apply to how we understand ourselves as a nation, but also how we live as individuals. We want to control our own destinies. We want to earn we we get. We'll say, "Man, what do I look like a charity case? I don't need your handouts. I'm an adult!" Because in our minds, that's what adulthood looks like--a lack of reliance on others. Maturity means to be financially, socially, and spiritually independent.

But in Jesus' way of looking at things, true maturity is to recognize your dependence. It's to see that you need a Savior, you need a Provider, you need a Father. It's to recognize with Paul in Romans 7, "Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death?" And then it's to see that God has already taken care of it, and that all we need to do is receive it.

How Just is War?

When I was a student at Ozark Christian College, there was a debate that seemed to rise up among the student body every once in a while (and by that, I mean every few hours). This running debate centered on the ethical issue of how Christians understand violence and war. To be honest, I had never really considered this question before my time at Ozark, and I did my best to avoid the issue for my first few years there. Over the past couple years, however, I have tried to think through this topic and formulate my own beliefs regarding a Christian response to war, so maybe now is the time to share my thoughts with you, my faithful reader.

I've been very hesitant to write this post for some time for a number of reasons. For one thing, I'm aware that my views are probably out of line with what the majority of American Christians believe, and I'm also aware that this can be a very sensitive topic, especially for those who have fought in our military or who have military personnel in their family. My intent is not to offend anyone in any way, as I too have friends and family who have served in the military, and all of them could easily kick my tail. I also realize that for those who have been in the military, their time of service can be a core aspect of how they identify themselves, and so for me to question the legitimacy of Christian involvement in war can seem like a personal attack. Again, this is nothing that I intend. And finally, I hope to not over-simply the issue, because I know that it is a complex one. Whenever I'm faced with a difficult question, my response is usually to just side with more mature Christians who I feel have life more figured out than I do, but my problem is that in this case there are Christians I respect a great deal who fall on both sides of the issue, so that doesn't help me out at all. My purpose in pointing this out is simply to state that I hope to write from an attitude of humility. My thinking regarding this issue is still developing, and I may very well be wrong about some things, and I'm open to opposing viewpoints as long as they aren't hostile, and as long as they include a handshake, side-hug, or Wendy's gift certificate.

I'll also point out at the start that in this post I am considering a Christian response to war, not to the use of force in general. The question can be raised, "But what should a Christian do if he comes home and discovers an intruder attacking his family?" That's a different discussion for another day.

In conversations I have had with people, when it comes to the debate about Christian involvement in war, there are two main camps. On the one hand are those who advocate pacifism and completely reject any sort of Christian involvement. On the other hand are those who advocate a "just war" theory, claiming that war is acceptable when it is for a just cause--defending the lives and liberties of a nation.

After thinking through this for a while, I don't think I can agree with the pacifists. I would really like to be a pacifist. I think pacifists are cool. But there are times I think a war can be just. There are times when a maniac rules a nation and begins to use his power to throw the world into chaos, and such times may be instances when warfare is necessary as an absolute last resort. There are indeed "just wars."

However, I also believe that those instances are very, very, very rare. I think a problem may just war theorists have is that they begin to see any war that their nation is involved in as "just." Many American Christians would probably fall into that camp. We are brought up believing that the United States is always right. We are told that we are God's nation, so whatever military campaigns we undertake must be good and just. We are the "good guys," regardless of the situation or time in history.

If this is true, though, it means that the United States is the only nation in the history of the world to always go to war justly. That is simply unrealistic. Propaganda and an instilled sense of nationalism lead us to think that our nation is always in the right, but to believe this is perhaps naive. It would make us unique in the history, because I don't think we can find any other nation to which we can apply the same qualification, especially since we ourselves have been at war with many of them at one time or another.

When considering the justice of a particular war, there are a few scenarios that may be played out. First, it could be that both sides in the war are just in their actions. This, of course, is ridiculous. Second, it could be that one side is just while the other is not. This would be the "just war" mentioned earlier. Third, it could be that neither side is just, and sadly, I believe that this is historically the most common type of war.

I think it's a good exercise to sit down and think through each of the wars and conflicts in which the United States has been involved in its history. Think about the circumstances and reasons that drove the U.S. to go to war, and ask, "How many of these wars were just from a Christian perspective." In elementary school history class, we were taught that we were always in the right, but that may be true far less often that we had believed. Most wars aren't fought to protect human lives. They are fought to protect national interests, economies, and ideologies.

Ultimately, these sorts of questions come down to the question, "Is it okay for a Christian to serve in the military?" To be frank, if a fellow believer were to seek my advice about whether or not to join the military, I would strongly encourage him to stay out. Not because there aren't any just wars to be fought, because I believe there are. But as I understand military life, a solider doesn't get to choose which wars he does and does not fight in, and it may be that a nation will send the Christian off to fight in an unjust war, or even in a just war, that person may be ordered to engage in unjust actions. When a person joins the military, he is signing over some of his freedoms to people who typically make decisions on national, not Christian, principles.

Of course, there are many Christians who have fought and who are fighting in our nation's military. In expression my views, my purpose is not to say that such people are evil or anything of the sort. This group includes people within my church, my friends, and my family. People who I love and respect greatly. I simply think it's time that the American church pays closer attention to how ready we are to jump on board with our nation's program. Our lives ought to be geared first and foremost toward emulating the character of Jesus.

The church as a whole has had far too uncritical of an approach when thinking about how we deal with war. There have been times in war that Christians have killed fellow Christians in the name of their countries. And somehow, I don't think that's what Jesus had in mind when he told us to love each other.

Wrecking Ball

Life isn't easy.

I would really like it to be. Things would be so much....easier. But sadly, that's just not how things work, and sometimes (or oftentimes) we are faced with difficult situations that we have to deal with. The circumstances that we face aren't always ideal, and when we encounter such situations, we have a choice about how we're going to handle them. Will you just accept things as they are and do your best to get by, all the while grumbling about how life is unfair? Or will you change the situation? Will we use your creative abilities to find a solution so that you can function outside of the circumstances?

My mother died of cancer when I was a young child. That was a situation that no one should have to deal with so early, and it has presented the most difficult set of circumstances with which I've ever had to contend.  When I was young, I suppose I had every excuse to use my situation as an excuse and a crutch. But I didn't do that, largely due to the supportive family I had around me and because of God's watching over me. I was certainly sad, and the grieving process took a long time, but I never despaired. I never blamed God for what had happened. I accepted that sometimes really bad things happen, and you can't let those things keep you from living life. I remember thinking even at an early age, "There are two possibilities: You can either be overcome by your circumstances, or you can overcome those circumstances." And I tried my best to do the latter.

For most of my life, I've had a pretty positive outlook on the world. I tried to find the good in what appeared to be bad situations. I believed that life can be better than it looks, and that I didn't need to be defined by things that happened to me.

But then my thinking changed. A few years ago, I went through a difficult period in which a couple relationships didn't pan out the way that I had hoped they would, and I began to feel that my life was outside of my control. I began to believe that good things just weren't supposed to happen to me, and that there was nothing I could do to change this. I slipped into a form of fatalism--this was the way life was, and I just had to live with it. I was a slave to circumstances, so I might as well get as comfortable as I can and not worry about changing things for the better.

But that's not the way humans are designed to function. We have a unique capacity for changing our circumstances. We don't have to just play the cards we're dealt; we can get new cards. And that's something that separates us from animals. At a zoo, regulations require that the fence for a lion enclosure be at least 12 feet high, because the lion is unable to jump over that tall of a fence. So the lion lives with these circumstances, believing that there is nothing he can do about it.

But do you know what a human being does when he's in a cage with a 12-foot fence? He builds a ladder so that he can climb over it.

When we're run up against a wall, we wheel in a wrecking ball to knock it down. We're not captive to our circumstances because we have the ability to change them. When we build cities where there's not much water, we build pipes to bring it in. When there's a river we can't swim across, we build bridges. When one city isn't working for us, we pack up and go somewhere else. When our jobs are bogus, we find new ones. Life doesn't have to remain how it is, because we have the God-given ability of creating and bringing change.

Far too often, I live like the lion in the zoo. I want to get to the world outside my cage, but I just stare up at that 12-foot fence and stay where I am. I focus more on what life is rather than on what it could be.

But we're not designed to be fatalists. We're made to be changers and creators. The world is made by people who see beyond their circumstances, who don't take "No" as an answer, and who know how to work the wrecking ball. And that's what I want to be like.

I mean, have you ever seen those wrecking balls?! How much fun would it be to swing one of those things around?

A lot of fun. That's how much.

From the Sidewalk

We here at A Chicken in a Cage with a Ferret have several traditions that we hold to rather stringently. They are as follows:

1. Be awesome.

2. Go on lots of hot dates.

3. Write a post every July 2nd to commemorate the anniversary of beginning the blog.

Since I've already been doing a pretty good job with the first two traditions, all I need to do is make good on the third to be in good shape for the next year. And so, today we pause to celebrate the blog and hopefully to write something that is just a little less crappy than the drivel that is normally here.

Last week I did something that I had not done yet since I moved to Cincinnati last August. I went for a walk in my area. I should have done this a long time ago. Since moving, I've become very...boring. Even more boring than I was before. When I'm not at school or work, I spend my time watching TV shows on Hulu or....well, that's about it. And because of this, my environment has become restricted to my 500 square foot apartment--made up of Bible commentaries on the shelves, empty Coke cans on the coffee table, and dirty laundry laying all over the bedroom floor. It's pretty small, and there's not much going on.

But the world outside my walls is much bigger, and last week I decided to go check it out. It was a little bit of biblical misapplication that inspired me to do so. I came across Proverbs 26:13: "The sluggard says, 'There is a lion in the road! There is a lion in the streets!'" The sluggard remains home because he imagines some danger waiting for him outside, and I realized that maybe I stay home so much because, well, the world out there can be scary! You could read the verse today by saying, "The sluggard says, 'There is a drug dealer outside! There are gangs roaming the streets!" Maybe that's what kept me indoors. And so, I decided to put my imagined fears aside and take a walk.

What I noticed on my journey was how different the world looks from different perspectives. I walked along a street that I drive down almost every day, but this time I saw it differently. I noticed little things that I had never seen before. I experienced sights and sounds that I have been immune too in my air-conditioned car with the radio bumping. By slowing down and walking rather than zipping by in my car, my perspective of the route totally changed.

The world looks different from the sidewalk.

I heard people's conversations who were talking on their porches. I felt uneveness of the sidewalk under my feet. I smelled the raccoon roadkill that had been pushed into the gutter. I saw closed-down businesses that I had never noticed before. I had to duck under low tree branches than hung over the sidewalk.

The way our world is structured today, it's easy to isolate yourself from everything outside of your little bubble. You can separate yourself from so many things. And this is a tempting way to live because it's so safe and comfortable. But it can also get boring really fast. Great ideas and great lives don't often come from people who spend their entire week watching reruns on TV. They come from those who are observing and engaging with the world around them. They come from people who slow down their pace to take note of the world as it exists.

So don't just watch the world through a windshield. Encounter it from the sidewalk.

And now, before I go, it's your turn to join in the blogiversary fun. Here's how you can participate. Leave a comment with three parts: (1) Congratulate me on my four-year run blogging and give me a nice compliment; (2) Let me know what kind of dessert you're going to send me; (3) Let me know what you'd like me to write about in a future post.

In all honestly, the third part is the one I would be most grateful to hear back on, so don't worry too much about the first two.

But seriously though, you should probably send some dessert.