We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life.
Romans 6:4
Who am I if I am not who I am?
Who am I if I am not resisting?
Who am I if I am not making my own way?
Who am I if I am not doing my own thing?
Who am I if I am not leading?
Who am I if I am not following?
Who am I if I do not have an enemy?
Who am I if I do not have a friend?
Who am I if I am not what I do?
Who am I if I am not what is done to me?
Who am I if I am not what I think?
Who am I if I am not what you think of me?
Who am I if I am not what I feel?
Who am I if I am not what I say?
Who am I if I am not what I stand for?
Who am I if I am not what I stand against?
Who am I if I am not how I look?
Who am I if I am not how you look at me?
Who am I if I am not who I am?
Who is asking?
Who is ‘I am’?
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity
To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations on God and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.
I almost gave up rolling in jiu-jitsu for Lent
I’ve been struggling with a shoulder injury, which I sustained in jiu-jitsu, for quite some time. Last month, however, it took a significant turn for the worse. Normally, I simply train around my injuries, which, considering I’m almost forty-seven, may be why my shoulder has never really healed. The nagging and progressive nature of this injury has had me worried, though.
As we entered the season of Lent, it occurred to me that it may be a good idea to give up rolling (sparring in jiu-jitsu) for Lent. Considering the fact that rolling is my favorite part of jiu-jitsu, I knew that this was going to be a big sacrifice for me. In fact, aside from when I was in a car accident nine years ago and when we were in the lockdown phase of covid, this would be the longest I have ever not rolled since I started jiu-jitsu in 2012.
In the beginning, it was relatively easy because my shoulder and neck were in so much pain that the idea of rolling was actually frightening. As I started to get better, however, as a result of rest, foam-rolling, stretching, massage, and multiple visits to a chiropractor, I began testing the waters a little bit on the mats.
At first, I tried only flow-rolling and only with purple belts or higher. After a few classes of that, I tried only playing guard and asking my partners to reset back to neutral if and when they passed my guard. Then, I started rolling with people but not submitting them, telling myself that it’s not rolling if I’m not using submissions.
A dozen loopholes and self-justifications later, I realized that I had broken my Lenten vow. Then came the excuses. “I’m not actually Catholic,” I told myself, “My church doesn’t preach or practice Lent.”
“Does God really care whether or not I roll?” I asked.
“It’s just jiu-jitsu,” I said, “What’s the big deal?”
But I could feel that something was off. My spiritual condition began to suffer and I just didn’t feel right. At first, I thought it was simply the fact that I’m in pain almost all of the time from my shoulder, but I knew there was more going on than that.
Then I recalled the story from Matthew 26:36-46 when Jesus took his disciples to Gethsemane to pray. He tells them that “[his] soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death (38)” and asks them to keep watch with him. He goes off to pray three times and, all three times, he comes back to find them sleeping. Jesus is about to be crucified for the sins of the world and his disciples couldn’t even stay awake to keep watch with him for an hour.
As I recalled this story, my heart sunk. I couldn’t even give up rolling for a month. That’s how weak I am. That’s how easily I give into temptation and how quickly I “fell asleep” while my Lord and Savior prepares to be crucified so that I may be saved. Jesus gave his life for me and I couldn’t even give him a month of my time and faithfulness. Thank the good Lord for his forgiveness and mercy. Heaven knows I do not deserve it.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity
To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations on God and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.
Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other
In an interview with Benedictine monk Father Augustine Wetta, Fr. Wetta talked about a fellow monk recently leaving the monastic brotherhood and explained that whenever this happened, it was almost always because of a secret, something they were too afraid or ashamed to tell someone else. He went on to explain just how tragic and unnecessary the loss of a monastic brother was because whatever was going on could have been worked out if only the monk were willing to discuss it with another person instead of keeping it to himself.
There’s a saying in the recovery community that “We are only as sick as our secrets.” There’s a lot of truth to this. The things about us that we hide and keep secret become the edges onto which demons can cling. By keeping certain aspects of ourselves hidden in the shadows, those shadows begin living in us.
This is not to say that we should share everything with everyone. That is not only unwise, but it can also cause more harm than good. By oversharing and being overly honest, we risk hurting others and putting ourselves in a position where we cannot help anyone.
We shouldn’t, however, be the only person who knows everything about us. This is especially true for those things about us for which we carry shame, guilt, remorse, or embarrassment. These negative emotions are a recipe for isolation, and when we isolate, which is different than solitude, the devil is usually there to keep us company. “Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective (James 5:16, NIV).”
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity
To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations on God and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.
Practicing the presence of God through writing
There are many ways to practice God’s presence. Writing is one such practice. This is not true for all writing, but these days, the writing I do here and at Holistic Budo is one way that I practice God’s presence in my life. That doesn’t mean that everything I write is divinely inspired—far from it. Rather, I can feel God’s presence within the practice when I write with my mind on God.
I don’t write for myself. In truth, it was never my goal or desire to write as much as I do. I write because I feel called to do so. It feels like a spiritual requirement for me, something that God is asking of me. Much like when I don’t pray or meditate, when I don’t write, I feel out of sorts. It’s as if God has given me a gift, and when I squander that gift, he lets me know it.
I also don’t publish my writing for attention. I publish what I have written to free myself of it, let it go, and put it into the world without shame, judgment, or expectation. I publish my work as an act of not hiding. This is me not hiding behind my fear, my insecurity, or my concerns over the opinions of others. This is what I wrote. Here it is. Love it or hate it, I sat down today to write, and this is what came out.
Writing has become, for me, a form of prayer. It’s an act of listening. I sometimes sit down with an idea in mind of what I want to write about, but that idea is usually just the thing that gets me started. Once I begin writing, it rarely, if ever, goes the way I expected. I’m merely a conduit for that which wants to be written. I’m not trying to write. I’m trying to get out of the way.
My best writing comes out of the quiet spaces between my thoughts. When I don’t know what to write, I wait. I listen. I feel what wants to come out, and then I do my best not to taint or distort it. Some days, it’s a struggle—it’s like grappling with a ghost. Other days, it’s easy, like the Holy Spirit is writing through me.
The more I write, the more I realize how insignificant I am and how much God truly loves me. I know that my words and blog are a drop in the ocean of creation. I don’t write, however, to make waves or even ripples in the water. I write because God has given me the ability and the inspiration to do so. And it is my way of thanking him for the Spirit he has sent to guide me. It’s an act of gratitude. It’s a practice, a method for practicing the presence of God in my life.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity
To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations on God and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.
People-pleasing and self-sufficiency are forms of idolatry
In the past, my sensitivity seemed to work in my favor. I thought I had learned to harness it for good, and I even imagined it to be a superpower. Having the ability to sense when things are wrong or are going to go wrong, allowed me to be a great problem solver. It made me an exceptional technician and a pretty good manager.
For many years, I attempted to accomplish the impossible. That is, I tried to solve every problem that came my way. I tried to fix everything and everyone around me, even when they didn’t ask for it. This proved to be an impossible task, however. The problem, as it turns out, is that there are always more problems.
Not only did I burn out and crash hard, but I also started to make things worse. I stepped on the toes of the people around me and, in an attempt to never let anything or anyone fail, I enabled others to be irresponsible. Then, ironically, I would get mad at them for not caring enough when, in fact, it was my caring too much that made them seem to care so little.
All the while, I believed and acted like, if I’m not solving any and all problems, no one is going to. I was playing God and not doing a very good job at it. The more I did, the worse my relationships seemed to get. I got mad at people for not doing what I wanted, they got mad at me for the constant power trip I was on, and with all of the discord I was sowing around me, less and less was getting done.
Fast forward through a series of nervous breakdowns, several near ruined relationships, and a spiritual reawakening, and I have reached a place in my life where, to the best of my ability, I let God be God. This may seem obvious to some, but it was a hard-won lesson for me.
My best ideas and my best efforts had to fail completely before I was willing to submit to the fact that, in spite of what I claimed to believe, I was living as though God needed my help, and not the other way around. I’m still susceptible to people-pleasing and taking on more than I can or should handle, but God is helping me find my proper place in the world.
As it turns out, both people-pleasing and self-sufficiency are forms of idolatry in that they put human desires, whether someone else’s or your own, ahead of God’s desires. While God’s will and man’s will sometimes overlap, they often do not. In fact, man’s will is often in direct opposition to God’s will. We must choose, therefore, whether we are going to please others, please ourselves, or please God, but likely cannot do all three.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity
To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.
It’s hard to drive like a jerk while Jesus is on the radio but it’s not impossible.
It’s hard to drive like a jerk while Jesus is on the radio, but it’s not impossible. In fact, I realized today that I do it quite often. Realized may not be the right word, however. It’s more like I was informed today that I do this quite often and I was unable to deny it.
While driving back from a day-trip to the beach with my family, I found myself getting annoyed at another driver who was driving aggressively. My instinct, an unfortunate result of spending too many years driving in and around Washington D.C., was to match his aggression. When he started to pass me, I began to speed up. As I did, I was struck by the irony of the situation.
On the radio, I was listening to Christian music. “How can you drive like a jerk,” an inner voice asked, “While listening to music about Jesus?” As soon as this thought crossed my mind, I began to slow down. I really don’t want to drive like a jerk. I know it’s not safe or even necessary, and I am sure not being a good representative of Christ in the world when I do.
I remember hearing author Seth Godin say once that it’s not that the other driver cut us off that’s the problem, it’s the story we tell ourselves about the other driver cutting us off that’s the problem. We tell ourselves stories about the driver, we tell ourselves stories about ourselves, and we tell ourselves stories about why the other driver doing this thing to us. But these stories are mostly pride’s way of justifying our un-Christlike behavior so that we don’t have to change.
Pride is a powerful tool of the devil and I’m as susceptible to it as anyone. That’s one of the many reasons I need Jesus. Left to my own devices, I will always choose to retaliate against perceived slights and challenges to my ego no matter the risk to my life, the lives of those in the car with me, or the lives of the other driver. But Jesus challenges this mentality and this behavior.
Jesus asks me to do better, to make better choices, and to treat others better. He asks me to love my enemy, even my imagined enemies, and even my enemies on the road. In a strange way, I should really be thankful for aggressive drivers because they present me with an opportunity to practice this love of my enemies through the example of Christ Jesus who, even while he was dying on the cross, asked God to forgive his persecutors and all of us along with them.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity
To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.
Jiu-jitsu seems to suit my obsessive yet fickle nature
For as long as I can remember, I have had wide varying and ever-changing tastes. While I really like, or even obsess over, consistency in certain things, in many aspects of my life my preferences are complex and fluid. Whether it’s music, food, hobbies, or careers, I have been all over the map in my forty some years of life.
At times, this constant changing of tastes can be expensive, both financially and emotionally. I tend to get obsessed with whatever new thing I’m interested in, diving deep into every aspect of it, learning everything I can about it, and sharing what I find with others. Eventually, the day inevitably comes, however, when my interest wanes and I obsess over something new.
Luckily, there are certain aspects of my life where this is not a problem for me. In my relationships, for example, I tend to be loyal and consistent, often to a fault. I find comfort in the stability of my relationships and, if I’m being honest, this tends to afford me the ability to be more whimsical in other areas of my life.
My ever-changing tastes can cause problems, though. There is a cost to changing directions over and over again. I cannot tell you how many things I have collected and hoarded over the years just to end up giving them away, donating them, or throwing them away when I tire of them. Like I said, I feel fortunate that I don’t treat my relationships, especially my marriage, this way, although once someone hurts me enough and I get up the nerve to move on, I move on for good.
With this on my mind, it occurred to me today that this eccentricity of mine is one of the reasons why jiu-jitsu has been such a rewarding practice for me. In jiu-jitsu, there is plenty to obsess over, but the art is so vast that there is always something new to give one’s attention to. In this way, it satisfies both my craving for depth and for breadth.
When I want to dive deep into some aspect of the art, I can do that. I can stay focused on a particular technique, position, or principle for as long as I want or need to. And then, when I tire of that thing or grow comfortable enough with it that its novelty wears off, I can turn my attention and energy to something else.
In addition to this, because jiu-jitsu is a dynamic sport practiced against a live-resisting partner, there are an infinite number of variables to face and deal with on any given day. The size, intensity, and skill level of training partners varies widely from class to class. Constraints set by the instructor such as the length of the sparring round, the starting position, or the goal of the sparring session also create new and interesting problems to solve. In short, jiu-jitsu is never boring and one is never done learning.
This has been on my mind a lot lately because I have found myself in a position wherein I have too many irons in too many fires and it has spread me thin. Normally, jiu-jitsu is a constant in my life and something I can turn to so that I can take my mind off of the other things I have going on, but I’m presently rehabbing an old injury that has been nagging me for a while, so I have had a lot of time to think and to overcommit to other things.
I thought I had been making a concerted effort to focus on the most important aspects of my life: God, family, and my career, which happens to be as a jiu-jitsu academy owner and instructor. But then I found myself being drawn in multiple other directions by new, shiny obsessions, and for once, it didn’t feel good. I used to thrive in this self-imposed chaos, but recently I have been craving a more focused, contemplative life and, as these things go, I have failed at achieving this on multiple levels.
It’s all a lesson, though. This discomfort is my teacher. I can feel that I have left the ever elusive sweet-spot and I’m out on the deep waters trying to paddle my way back to safety. Regardless of how far I go in the wrong direction, however, I am certain of one consistent, never-changing fact, and that is that God will use this experience to draw me into a closer, more meaningful relationship with him if I am willing let it be so.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity
To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.
My value is not contingent upon my usefulness
I have a friend who frequently calls me to tell me how overwhelmed he is and, ironically, I allow this to overwhelm me. This is one of the challenges of being an empathetic person. I feel what others are feeling and often have a difficult time separating their feelings from my own. I call this being emotionally porous.
I’m learning to look for the space between other people’s feelings and my own, however. I’m starting to understand that, even if I can feel what they feel, I am not obligated to take action, to offer advice, or to try to solve every problem within my vicinity. But this has been a long, painful process.
After much reflection and discussion with people more well-equipped to understand these things than I, namely my therapist and my spiritual director, I have found there are many reasons why, in the past, I have felt so driven by some overwhelming invisible force to try to fix every problem presented to me. All of these reasons point back to one thing, however, and that one thing is fear.
For whatever reason, I have a deeply seated fear that, I am only worthy of love to the degree that I am able to fix everything and everyone around me. It’s not my essence or my nature as a human being that makes me lovable. Rather it is my ability to solve other people’s problems.
This belief that I am only lovable to the degree that I am useful, I have discovered, is at the root of much of my restlessness, anxiety, and insecurity. While this self-belief seemed, in the twisted way that an abusive relationship seems to be normal when one is in the midst of it, to serve me for some time, for most of my life in fact, when it started causing me more problems than it was solving, something had to change.
But change of this sort is rarely, easy. To stop doing something one has done for most of one’s life doesn’t usually happen all at once. It’s a slow, arduous process. Along with therapy, spiritual direction, and prayer, I can honestly say that the most profoundly perspective altering practice I have ever taken up in this regard has been meditation in the form of centering or contemplative prayer.
While therapy has helped me to understand why I have these unhealthy tendencies, spiritual direction has helped me to see that other people’s problems are neither my fault nor my responsibility, and prayer has brought me into a relationship with a God who can and wants to change me into a healthier, happier version of myself, centering prayer has created the space within my heart and mind to make growth possible.
The fascinating thing is that centering prayer, or any form of meditation, does not address the issue directly. Instead, through regular practice, it simply gives one more internal space, a buffer of peace if you will, between stimulus and response. By regularly practicing silence and non-attachment to my thoughts and feelings, I don’t always feel the overwhelming urge to respond to the problems presented to me like I once did.
Of course, my old habits and patterns still come up. They are rooted deeply in my psyche and those roots are difficult to dig up. When they do, however, I can better see them for what they are. That is to say, I am able to see that these thoughts and feelings are just thoughts and feelings. They are not who I am.
As a result, my relationships are starting to feel healthier. I can listen to problems without making them my own and without feeling the need to solve them or give advice. Not only that, but I no longer feel guilty about letting someone else have their own problems. As much as I am not my own thoughts and feelings, I am beginning to realize that my value is not tied to my usefulness to others.
My value is God-given, as I am a child of God created in God’s very own image and likeness. It is not what I do, what I think, or how I feel that gives value to who I am. There are no conditions on God’s love for me. I am his child, his creation, and his beloved, and my very existence is a divine gift to be cherished and appreciated for the very fact that it is from God. I am not lovable because of what I do. I am lovable because I am.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity
To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.
God will never let us down but other people will
God likes to remind me when I am putting my faith in something or someone other than him. As I’ve heard Father Mike Schmitz say, “We are wired for idolatry,” and it often seems as though every time I’m making steady progress in my relationship with God, I find a new false idol to give my attention to. This inevitably leads to unhappiness and disappointment, and I turn back to God for help.
I don’t know how many times I need it to be proven to me that God is God and everything and everyone else is not, but it seems as though I never fully learn this lesson. There’s always one more distraction and one more hope, followed by one more messy let down.
And I know it’s no one else’s fault. I can’t blame them. They are not asking to be God. I put them in that position. I set them up to fail me by having expectations that only God can meet and then I’m somehow surprised when humans prove to be human.
There’s a reason Jesus’s said the first and greatest commandment is to “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” (Matthew 22:37-38, NIV). Even though he then tells us to “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Matt 22:39), this commandment comes second for a reason. God will never let us down, but other people will.
When I make for myself false idols, God allows it. He doesn’t like it and he warns against it, but he allows it because, even though he wants us to choose him, he never stops us from using our free will. If we want to choose to worship something or someone other than God, God won’t stop us. He will remove his grace and protection from us when we turn away from him, however.
Even though I know God never stops loving me, I have experienced times when I could feel his absence in my life. It usually happens when I turn my back on him or put something else before him. The funny thing is that God never went anywhere. It was I who cut myself off from his presence.
All he asks is that I repent. That is, that I turn back to him with a contrite heart. When I do, having been let down by the world once again, he is always there to welcome me home. I don’t do this to test him. It’s more like I have a short memory. I forget what it’s like to be alone in the wilderness, outside of his protection. So I test it out again and am reminded of the pain and misery that led me to him in the first place.
If only I never turned away, but the serpent of temptation comes in many forms. The devil has many faces and many voices, and he is a persistent trickster. He makes great promises that appeal to my pride, vanity, and fear, and he convinces me that I don’t need God this time, again, and it’s a lie.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity
To read my poetry and shorter writing, please visit Meditations of a Gentle Warrior and subscribe to receive my daily meditations in your inbox.
ROBERT VAN VALKENBURGH 