Have to

The other day I sent out this simple tweet: “Pondering the implications of adding ‘have to’ to my view of responsibility. Someone else will clean it up vs someone else will have to…” Since then I have not been able to shake this simple thought from my mind and I think it may warrant some more attention. It really is a simple shift in thinking, but I feel like its one of those “profundity wrapped in simplicity” things, like a Shakespearean sonnet in a fortune cookie. I was going to say one of Shakespeare’s plays, but then I realized the print would have to be so small nobody could read it, and that’s not profound at all. I suppose you could put it in a really big fortune cookie. But that would be weird. Regardless, I truly believe the act of incorporating “have to” into our daily thinking is one of the most simple yet complicated, easy yet difficult, quick yet time consuming things we can attempt.

Here’s what it looks like. In seemingly meaningless situations that we encounter everyday we pass over opportunities to be courteous, kind, responsible or generous because we assume (usually subconsciously) “somebody else will.” For example, I don’t need to stop and see if that person on the side of the highway needs help because somebody else will. It’s not a big deal if I leave my trash here. Somebody else will clean it up. I could cook up a thousand vague examples, but you get what I mean. If not, somebody else will.

But what if we add the tiny phrase “have to” to the end of those thoughts. If I don’t help that person somebody else will have to. If I don’t clean this up somebody else will have to. Those two simple words shift the responsibility in everyday, casual situations from other people to me. Instead of assuming someone else is responsible for something, what if we volunteer ourselves to be responsible? In a culture that despises the idea of personal responsibility, and especially among people who view certain acts and responsibilities as beneath them, adopting this view would be truly countercultural. It would be quietly radical. It would be a lot like Jesus. What this idea really boils down to is servanthood. Are we servants to others in daily invisible ways, or only in grandiose and theatrical ways? Are we willing to feel the responsibility of things that have not been named our responsibility? Or do we secretly and inwardly love the idea of being so important that others serve us?

I think the simply difficult addition of “have to” to our thinking is more Jesus-like than most realize. Why did Jesus wash his disciples’ feet? Because if he didn’t somebody else would have to. Why did Jesus choose the agony of God’s judgment on the cross? Because if he didn’t somebody else (me) would have to. Why did Jesus curse a fig tree that had no figs? Probably because he was really hungry. Ok, that one doesn’t fit here. But why did Jesus say he came to dwell among us? To serve, not to be served.

So I leave you with this final thought (JERRY! JERRY! JERRY! I wonder who will understand that reference). From now on try to look around you and be more aware of chances to engage in acts of kindness and service, not because it’s your job, but simply so someone else does not have to. That is true service.

Weirdo

I am the father of a 7-year-old boy. For those of you who currently have or have had a young boy you know what I mean when I say my son is in the “weirdo” phase. Everything is weird! He is literally incapable of speaking or acting normally. He can’t say “Mom, can I have a glass of water?” Instead, he feels the need to strike a crazy pose and say, “HEY MAMMA! Coulds your boy have a glash of WATAAAAHH!?!” He does not simply walk from point A to point B. Its like he’s perpetually stuck in the final round of the world parkour championship. I’m convinced there is a 24/7 action movie playing in his head. He’s constantly displaying his kung fu prowess against invisible foes and providing spit laden sound effects for the battle. These examples may not fully express the state of weird I’m living in. Lets just say he is weird.

Now, lets get one thing clear. I love my son. No, you don’t understand. I love my son more than life. I would take a bullet to the face for him right now. More than that, I would be tortured for that kid and not think twice about it. Seeing him, or anything related to him puts an immediate smile on my face. That being said, dudebro is so annoying right now! Go ahead, label me a horrible parent. But we all know I just said what parents of 7-year-old boys across the world have thought and never said.

The last thing I want to do is stifle his creativity or discourage finding fun in every moment of life possible. I know this is just a normal phase. It’s part of growing up. I know that without even trying my son is easily the coolest person I know. I know that soon enough this phase will be over and he’ll most likely go back to the super chill, cerebral, tenderhearted dudebro he was 7 months ago. I see glimpses of that kid peak out from behind the weird every once in a while and think, “Ah, there’s the boy I know.” But for now I often find myself rolling my eyes and being a little more aware of how people react to my weirdo in public.

This makes me think two things. First, I’d like to apologize to my parents for dragging the weirdo phase well beyond the acceptable 7 to 11 age range and extending it through high school without permission. Second, I wonder if I went through a similar phase in my faith. I think I did. When I think back on who I was two years into my faith I feel my face turn red and I can easily imagine God rolling his eyes. I imagine he thought things like, “You think that is important to me? You think that is a good way to witness to someone? You think that is what faith looks like?” Then I imagine God planting a palm on his forehead and being excited for that phase to be over. I think, or at least I hope, I’m mostly out of the weird adolescent phase of faith. That’s not to say I fully understand God and faith or that my faith is somehow superior to anyone else’s faith. I am, however, hopeful that I’m getting better at deciphering who I really am, what parts of my faith are genuine and what parts were just part of a weird phase. I hope I’m getting closer to the point where God takes his hand off his forehead and says, “There’s the guy I know.