relationships

Choosing God who is choosing you

God wants your time. He doesn’t want your time because he is greedy or selfish, but because he wants you. He wants to connect with you and have a relationship with you, and he can’t do that unless you give him your time. 

In truth, it was never your time anyway. You did not bring your life into being and you do not decide when it comes to an end. Every breath, every heartbeat, and every moment of your life is the graced gift from God. 

But God will never force himself on you. You have the will and right to choose other than God from moment to moment. He loves you so much, however, and knows that choosing other than him is not what is best for you, that he wants nothing more than for you to choose him because he is always choosing you. 

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. 

Being upset on behalf of others only makes matters worse

Something I have noticed over the past year or so is that a lot of my spiritual and emotional unrest occurs on behalf of others. I have porous emotional boundaries and, when someone around me is upset about something, I find myself getting upset about it as well. It’s not even that they are asking me to be upset. I just take it upon myself. 

Ever since I can remember, even if I don’t act like it, I’ve been extremely sensitive to the thoughts and feelings of those around me. I can feel what others are feeling and it affects me deeply. While this sensitivity may be useful at times, it is also a hindrance to my own peace and emotional integrity. 

I don’t know how or why I developed this sensitivity to the feelings of others. At some point in my life, I’m sure it served as a defense mechanism of some sort. If I could sense what others were feeling before they acted on it, if I could anticipate their needs, I could then either defuse a potentially volatile situation or protect myself from whatever was coming my way. 

The problem is that I can’t shut this sensitivity off. It’s like my emotional feelers are turned up to ten all of the time and it’s exhausting. If I’m around people who are happy, it makes me happier. If I’m around people who are at peace, I’m more peaceful. If I’m around people who are hurt or angry, I’m also hurt or angry.

For this reason, I often crave solitude in order to recharge. If I’m going to be around others, I prefer the intimate company of one or two people at a time. Or, if I have to be around a lot of people, I need to know that there is a way out in case I get overwhelmed or overstimulated. 

Where I run into trouble, however, is when someone close to me is angry, hurt, or disturbed by something. Whatever they feel, I feel it too. If they are mad about something or at someone, I find myself feeling the same way, even if I wasn’t mad before. If they are hurt or saddened, I become hurt or saddened as well. It’s not even helpful. In fact, it tends to make things worse. 

My being upset on someone else’s behalf, when they didn’t even ask me to be, has caused me way more grief than gain. It has gotten me into arguments and fights I had no business in and it has cost me a lot of joy and peace. This is not something I’m proud of, but I used to be. 

I used to think that I was doing other people a favor by getting upset on their behalf. I was their ally and I was fighting for them so they should be grateful. As it turns out, however, amplifying negativity doesn’t improve anyone’s life, least of all my own. 

I’m not entirely sure what the solution is, but I know that I’m not solving any problems by getting upset. In fact, I have made many situations and relationships much worse by adding to the conflict instead of being an example of peace and harmony amidst it. In some circumstances, it has cost me or nearly cost me important friendships. 

I know that Jesus expects more from me than this. Being sensitive, being empathetic, is not, in and of itself, a bad thing. In fact, it is kind of a superpower. Like all superpowers, however, it can either be used for good or for evil. Jesus loves me exactly as I am, but he also commands that I “be perfect, therefore, as [my] heavenly Father is perfect (Matthew 5:48, NIV)” which means that if this trait is causing me problems, I must be willing to “cut it off (Matt 5:30).” 

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. 

Committing to go deeper

A young monk walked into the abbot’s room where he found the abbot sleeping. 

“Father, wake up,” said the monk. 

“What is it?” the abbot asked. 

“I’m leaving the monastery,” replied the monk. 

“Today?” asked the abbot. 

“No,” said the monk, “Not today.” 

“Okay,” the abbot replied, “Be a good monk today and leave tomorrow.” 

Nearly thirty years of todays have passed for that monk and the tomorrow of leaving has never come.  

This story, a version of which I recently heard told by Father Augustine Wetta on The Chris Stefanick Show, reminded me of something a jiu-jitsu instructor friend of mine says to students who want to quit jiu-jitsu. He tells them, “You aren’t allowed to quit on a bad day. Keep training until you have a great day and then decide whether or not you want to quit. If, even at its best, you still decide jiu-jitsu isn’t for you, we can talk.” 

All too often these days, we commit to things in a lukewarm fashion. We dabble and dip our toes in, and then quit as soon as it’s inconvenient, uncomfortable, or unpleasant. But this prevents us from ever getting to the good stuff. When we quit something too soon, when we have only just scratched the surface of its depth, we never really get to learn the lessons it is meant to teach us, lessons that can only be learned through commitment.

As I have often said about marriage, “In our wedding vows, we don’t say, ‘For better or worse,’ for the better parts. Neither do we say, ‘In sickness and in health,’ for the healthy parts. Better and healthy don’t require vows of commitment. They are easy. We say our vows for when things get worse and our spouses get sick. We vow to be committed through the inevitable pain, frustration, and disillusionment that comes with every relationship.”  

When we commit in this way, we begin to realize that our day-to-day feelings don’t matter as much as we once thought they did. They get some say, but feelings are unreliable and fleeting. What really matters is that we continue, that we practice, that we go deeper, that we go beyond the superficial layers of whatever activity or relationship we are involved in and get to the essence of what that activity or relationship is trying to teach us, and then we keep going. 

It’s easy to commit to something when it’s new, enjoyable, and exciting, but this isn’t really commitment. Commitment is the decision to keep going after the newness has worn off, when the initial enjoyment has faded, and when we are bored or even unhappy. Commitment is the decision to not quit on a bad day and to not leave until tomorrow. 

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. 

Dating the muse

Imagine someone asks you out on a date and you agree to go. So they make a reservation at a nice restaurant and you both make plans to meet there. 

As the day approaches, you get offered a ticket to go see your favorite sports team in the championship game, but it’s on the same night as your date. Conflicted, but not wanting to miss this once in a lifetime opportunity, you call up your date and ask to reschedule, explaining the situation. They understand and change the reservations to another day that works for both of you. 

You have every intention of going on the date, but again, something comes up. This time, an emergency comes up at your job. You are needed there. Once again, you call up your date and explain the situation. They are a little less understanding this time, but agree to give you another chance and so they once again change the reservation to another day that works for both of you. 

Again, you have every intention of going on the date. But something else comes up.

How many times do you think this can happen before the other person stops taking you seriously? How many times can you not show up before they stop wanting to be with you? How many times can you stand someone up before it is obvious that they are not a priority and they move on? 

Now imagine the person asking you out on a date is your creative inspiration, the muse if you will. You say you want to be creative. You say you want to make art. You claim to want to be taken seriously and to be able to make a living with your creative work. But your actions say otherwise. 

How many times can you ignore inspiration before it starts ignoring you? How many times can you choose something else over your creative work before your creative work has had enough of you? How many times can you stand up the muse before it goes elsewhere and leaves you to that which you consistently choose over your art? 

Set aside time to make do you creative work. Choose a time and a place and show up. Show up consistently. Take your art as seriously as you want it to take you. You are not promised inspiration. The muse owes you nothing. Form a relationship with your creative work. Be attentive to it, nurture it, and care for it. 

Treat your art like you would treat a loved one. Better yet, treat your art like you would like to be treated by a loved one. If you take it seriously, if you show up for it and care for it, your art will always be there for you, but don’t take it for granted. Don’t make it wait. The muse is a jealous lover. 

My first bicycle – I hate you

My little brother and I being the first grandkids in our family, everyone usually gathered at our house for Christmas. One year, as we all sat in our basement around the fireplace opening presents with our family, I saw two large boxes covered in wrapping paper. One had my name on it and the other had my brother’s. They were from my grandparents, my dad’s parents, two of the sweetest, most genuine and generous people I have ever known.

My grandparents didn’t have much, but what they did have, they gave to others. These two boxes were the last gifts to be opened. Everyone watched in anticipation as we tore into the paper. When we finally got to the boxes, we could see there were pictures of bicycles on them. But there was a problem. The boxes were empty.

My brother and I were extremely confused. Then, everyone started laughing. Being a few years older, I vaguely understood that there was more to the story than two empty boxes. My brother, on the other hand, didn’t get the joke. He must have thought everyone was laughing at him, as opposed to at the punchline, and he lost his temper, yelling, “I hate you!” at our grandparents and everyone who laughed.

I could feel the mood in the room shift. I can still feel it to this day, the awkward tension his outburst created and the hurt I could sense in my grandparents upon hearing those words.

This was partly my fault. Being the older brother and not knowing any better, I had played a lot of tricks on my little brother over the years. I created games where we would wrap toys in paper and trade back and forth. He would give me my favorite toy of his and I would give him his favorite toy of mine, or at least that’s what I told him would happen. When I opened the gift he gave to me, what was inside was exactly what I had hoped for, most likely some G.I. Joe figure or accessory, or a Transformer or Go-Bot. When he opened the gift I gave to him, however, where he was promised a toy, what he would usually find was a book, and I would laugh. I don’t know how many times we played this game, but it was enough.

So when he opened that empty bicycle box and everyone began laughing, what they didn’t know was that he had been through this before and he didn’t like it at all. He was hurt and angry, just like when I had tricked him so many times prior. Shocked at his reaction, everyone responded differently. My grandparents remained quiet, my parents were embarrassed, my uncle was upset by the seeming ingratitude, and I felt all of it all at once.

When the adults finally got my brother to calm down, they took us into the garage where the bicycles were, fully assembled and ready to ride. What I unconsciously suspected all along was true. My grandparents were not the kind of people to play a cruel joke like giving children, their only grandchildren, empty bicycle boxes for Christmas just to laugh at their expense.

Of course the bicycles were in the garage. It was so obvious in hindsight. I’m sure my brother apologized for his reaction, even if he was made to, but I’m also sure he was as embarrassed after the fact as he was upset prior to seeing his brand new bicycle. I’m also sure that my grandparents forgave him as they would forgive both of us many times over in their lives.

As I said, they were two of the kindest, most gracious and generous people I have ever known. They were hard-working faithful family-oriented folks. Whether they know it or not, I learned a lot from watching them over the years, even if I was unable to show them during their lives. They saw my brother and I make a lot of mistakes, but they always treated us with love.

Oh, and those bicycles were amazing! We got a lot of miles out of them and, I don’t know about my brother, but my bicycle gave me my first real taste of freedom. I’m guessing he had a similar experience because he was usually with me when I would ride miles away from home around lake for fun, or to the tennis courts to play street hockey with the kids from school. We rode together to many places for many years and had many amazing experiences.

Far from innocence

When my wife and I were dating, we would talk on the phone for hours every night about everything and nothing. She would whisper from beneath the blankets in her makeshift room in the basement of her cousin’s home, trying to be quiet so that she didn’t wake up her niece and aunt with whom she shared the space. I would whisper back because, the house I lived in was so old and the insulation so non-existent, the neighbor upstairs and I could hear every word the other one said. 

We would often talk for so long that one or both of us would fall asleep on the phone. Not wanting the conversation to end, neither of us wanted to be the first to say goodbye. Having to hang up felt excruciating. It felt like we were being pulled apart, never to speak again. She was the last thing I thought about as I went to sleep and the first thing I thought about when I woke up the next morning. 

Even though I was thirty years old and she was twenty five, this experience made me feel so young and alive, like I was a teenager again discovering love for the first time. There was something truly magical about this time and, even thinking about it now brings a smile to my face. It was innocent and beautiful. We laughed a lot. 

She being from Cambodia and me from the United States, we sometimes had difficulty understanding one another. Her English was not bad by any means, but she didn’t always have the right word or the correct pronunciation for what she wanted to say and my Khmer was way worse than her English. So we would often have to spell words to each other in order to understand what the other was saying. We tried so hard to understand each other. There was so much patience, graciousness, and kindness in those conversations. 

I miss that time, those experiences, and the people we were back then. Writing this, I am reminded of how far we have come together, but also how far away from that innocence we have gotten. It’s bittersweet. It makes me want to do better, to be better for her, for myself, and for us.