A Selfish Perspective

Earlier this spring, I wrote a note entitled, “A Better Perspective.” The inspiration was my brother, who had recently been diagnosed with Chordoma, a rare cancer that attacks the spine. Andrew underwent radiation treatment this summer, and tomorrow he will undergo a half-day surgery to remove the tumor, which includes removing two bones of his sacrum. It has been daunting and consuming for Andrew, his wife, and our entire family. Cancer is jarring and unexpected for anyone at any age. But a loved one facing such a diagnosis at 34 years of age is all the more staggering. Andrew has been the model of determination, strength, and faith since the diagnosis, but there is nothing about his fortitude that comes easily.

Andrew’s experience has overlapped with a stretch of deep curiosity from my daughters, Lydia and Grace. Grace joined Lydia as an elementary student this year, and their questions have recently covered topics ranging from how to make perfume to understanding the economics of Walmart. As a man who loves to research and learn, this phase of life is particularly sweet. I welcome hearing how my girls view the world and learning what sparks their curiosity.

One discussion that we have returned to regularly has been “how do you know a Christian.” The question is natural because Lydia and Grace have grown up going to church, and they want to know if they are Christians. As I have explained to them, it is a choice they have to make; there are no heritage Christians. I have also emphasized Romans 12:9-21 over and again because it highlights the characteristics of a Christian in an instructive manner. Here are some of the verses that stand out to me:

• Love one another with brotherly affection;

• Rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, be constant in prayer;

• Contribute to the needs of God’s people and seek to show hospitality;

• Bless those who persecute you; and

• Live in harmony with one another.

At times, it feels easy to act in such a manner. But over the past few months, it has not come so easily. My brother is on my mind constantly, and the pain and heartache he feels is a pain that I carry, too. Andrew is the model of friendship—a man with his own gravity that draws people in through his charisma, charm, and joyfulness that makes every setting better when he’s a part of it. Even if he wasn’t my blood, Andrew is a man I would be fortunate to have as a friend.

So to see my brother and my friend carry this burden prompts an impulse of selfishness. It is almost as if I do not have enough in me to extend love to others. It is a season where it seems like more work to love others, to rejoice, to serve, and to bless—these marks of a Christian I hold dearly.

Fortunately, Paul offered more to consider than these snippets on character. As I emphasized in my earlier writing, Paul’s life was one of constant pain and trial. Despite his circumstance, he chose to conduct himself with love, service, and hospitality. He blessed those he encountered.

Paul warned that life as a Christian would not be easy. He discussed Christian living as a race that demands perseverance. In 1 Corinthians and Philippians, Paul discussed running the race of life with purpose and diligence, not in vain but holding firm to the promise of Christ. In Hebrews 12, the focus is casting off unnecessary entanglements to persist in the race with eyes focused on Jesus. For anyone who has run a race, you understand how hard this can be.

When I was in college, I lived with cross-country runners all four years of school. Two things stood out when I watched them run. First, they enjoyed it, which to this day flummoxes me to no end. Eberlines are not built for running, and I am reasonably confident the activity has never been a source of joy for my family. The second observation is how smoothly my roommates glided across the ground. They ran with a gracefulness that my lumbering legs never achieve. They ran hard, and they ran for endless miles to prepare their bodies to race well.

Years later, I started running myself. When I did so, I complained to my boss, a former Division I runner, that I always seemed to hit the wall after 3-4 miles. He explained that it was not my legs that were weak, but my mind. Your head will tell you, “this is terrible; you should stop.” But such a mindset will not serve you well when it is time to race. It takes practice and focus, so you are ready when the challenges arrive.

I may have glibly presumed that my athletic roommates ran their miles with ease and joy. But I only saw them at the beginning in their excitement and at the end when satisfaction comes from a job well done. It is, however, the miles in between that demand mettle and focus—pure mental effort to put one foot in front of another.

And so it is with living a Christian life. The hard times of any life are inevitable. Paul’s comparison of life to a race is fitting in that so much of what both demand is putting one foot in front of another: choosing to act and speak in love and putting others first irrespective of circumstance. As hard as this can be, I understand it is not something that is accomplished through sheer willpower. Rather, prayer and the Holy Spirit arm us with the capacity to do things we otherwise couldn’t.

Over the months since Andrew received his diagnosis, I have thought often about life and death and the way I spend the time I have. When facing sickness or death, it is easy to see the attraction of a carpe-diem life—to slow to a walk or stop the race. Yet this neglects the reason we live this life and bear the characteristics of a Christian.

Paul did not give a list of benchmarks to achieve before you enter the pearly gates. There is nothing but Christ’s free gift of salvation to accomplish that. But living in the manner Paul described intends to show others what a sweet gift Jesus offers; that through Jesus we can find peace and contentedness even in the hardest times. It is only this love that encourages and lends hope when there are no other sources to give peace.

When my girls again ask, “how do you know a Christian?” I intend to give them more than mere words. The ways I model will almost certainly be the ways they follow. Rather than give them a list to follow, I must paint a picture of this beautiful gift Jesus offers—a prize worth running after even through weariness and pain. The marks of a Christian may be hard to demonstrate at times, but it would be pure selfishness to live in any other way at risk of keeping Christ’s offer of peace and joy to myself.

It is here I have sought—and sometimes struggled—to keep my focus since Andrew’s initial tests, his diagnosis, and his treatment. But living like Christ will be my focus during Andrew’s surgery and his recovery. Today may not be the beginning of a race when there is excitement at what is to come. It may not be the end of the race when something worthwhile had been accomplished. But today is the part of the race where God promises to strengthen and sustain—helping move one foot in front of the other—with a knowledge that whatever comes in this life will pale in comparison with what is to come when a long race is well run.