Wednesday, September 26, 2012

Learn their names.

This is Reilly during our Oregon road trip
Reilly is likely the greatest man I've ever met and ever will meet. Growing up together, he was constantly getting me involved in his crazy capers, and every ounce of whimsy and spontaneity I have is a byproduct of his influence on me. Yet perhaps the greatest thing about Reilly is the way he prays. He prays for huge stuff, and his prayers always seem to result in him being thrown into adventure. My favorite example is the time he sent me an e-mail telling me he was moving to Cambodia for 8 months to work at an orphanage - he flew out within a matter of days after praying about it. Every time I talk to Reilly, he asks me: "what are you praying for BIG?" I rarely have a decent response for him.

A few years ago, I worked out of one of my company's workshop and warehouse locations, and to say it was in the bad part of town is putting it way too lightly. Fulton Industrial Boulevard is as rough as it gets - I dare you to google it. I did in preparation for this post, and one of the first results was a recent news story about two gang members being charged for sex trafficking girls as young as 14 on that street. You probably won't be able to read the article without crying, but it's what I witnessed every day during my commute. I would see the prostitutes stumble out from the cabs of tractor trailers or out of the many sleazy motel rooms, the evidence of meth addiction showing on their faces, and often times carrying a crying baby in their arms. This reality confronted me every single day, and it constantly chiseled away at my heart.

Reilly built a corn maze in CO with homeless people once
Tired of feeling guilty for not doing anything to help these women, I decided to tell Reilly about them and ask him to pray for them. I figured Reilly would tell me a special rosary prayer for me to recite so I didn't feel bad for them anymore, or perhaps even tell me about an organization I could give a few dollars to. But that's not how Reilly prayers work. Instead, he proposed: "Why don't you learn their names?" This was clearly the most preposterous idea I'd ever heard. I explained to him the roughness of this crowd - these were not high-end escorts by any stretch of the term, and they likely had pimps, pimps with guns, standing nearby. Yet he was insistent: "How many people do you think actually learn their names? I think that would be really special to them." This is how Reilly thinks - even before thinking about their material needs, he's wondering what would make them feel special, without any regard to my safety or comfort whatsoever.
Reilly as the best man on my wedding day

Two days later, my truck (yes, I actually drove a pickup truck during this season of my life) needed gas. So after work, I pulled into one of the gas stations on Fulton Industrial. Within 5 seconds, one of the prostitutes was walking towards me. Time slowed down, and as sweat gushed from every orifice of my body, I pondered what her initial marketing statement would be. As she approached me, she asked "Can I come with you?" (that was not one of my guesses) as she simultaneously reached for the crew cab's rear door handle. I responded "No thank you" in my politest voice, and hit the lock button as fast as humanly possible. She turned to walk away, but I asked her to wait. I stuck out my hand, and said, trembling: "My name is Jay, what is yours?" She returned my handshake with great skepticism and answered: "My name is Victoria." I asked Victoria if she was hungry, and she said yes, so I bought her a few items of her choice from the convenience store while the shopkeeper stared at me judgingly. Every time I needed gas, I would stop at that station, sometimes running into Victoria again (and addressing her by name), sometimes meeting her colleagues. They eventually got tired of the gas station food, so we started walking over to a nearby McDonald's to share a meal together. Each time, I would rush home, excited to write down their names and begin praying for them.

I think God has a special place in His heart for prostitutes, and the Bible is full of stories of God selecting hookers to carry out His most adventurous works. Perhaps He just knows the immense amount of pain their profession causes them, and wants to show them He created them for something so much greater, or perhaps they're the only ones who have lost enough of their pride to be capable of such adventure - I don't know. Regardless, I think my favorite prostitute in the Bible is Rahab, who God chose to help Him with one of His all-time greatest capers - the battle of Jericho. It's too grand of a story for me to do it any justice in a blog post, but I encourage you to check out the book of Joshua to see the full picture. Before the battle, Rahab hid Israelite spies in her house, and when rumors spread that spies had been seen in her area, Rahab sent the authorities off on a wild goose chase. When the spies are wondering why Rahab risked her life in order to protect the spies, she tells them the God of Israel is greater than any authority in her country. Quite the statement of faith considering she was well aware she would be executed when the authorities found out she lied to them! Yet instead, Rahab and her family members were the only residents of Jericho to survive the battle, and she was remembered as a hero for generations. Centuries later, even the brother of Jesus described her as "righteous" (James 2:25), and the writer of Hebrews includes her among the great juggernauts of faith such as Jacob, Joseph, and Moses (Hebrews 11).

I'm sorry for the way I've presented God. All too often, I've preached a small gospel. I've spouted a god of boredom, a god of Republicans, a god of money, a god of comfort, a god of rules, a god of a weird Christian sub-culture, and a god of self-righteousness. Yet that's not God at all - it's just what humans do to make a god who's convenient to them. The God of the Bible is one of epic adventure, of ridiculousness, and of preposterous ideas. He's the God who could choose kings to do His work, but instead chooses Rahabs, Victorias, and broken people like me.

This week, I find myself in the prostitution capital of the world. As I walk on the sidewalk, every 100 yards a different person attempts to give me a flyer advertising whores delivered to my door. As I try to fend them off, I'm reminded of Victoria, and I realized something awful: I can't remember any of her friends' names. My office moved a few years back, and now I commute to a nice, cushy place in the suburbs. Accordingly, I've reverted back into living a small, suburban gospel and praying lackluster, small prayers. It's time for me to end this post - I need to call Reilly, I need to start praying big, and I need to start planning my next great caper.

What I'm listening to during this post:

Monday, September 24, 2012

Love Does.

"I used to be afraid of failing at something that really mattered to me, 
but now I'm more afraid of succeeding at things that don't matter."

Bob Goff's words reverberated in my brain like a gong struck with the full force of an Albert Pujols swing. I'm only halfway through his book Love Does, yet already Goff's firsthand accounts of whimsy have resonated with the cries of my heart. You see, if Mark Twain were writing about my life, he'd probably refer to this season as the "Gilded Period." Sure, there's a lofty title and trappings of grandeur acting as a thin layer of gold, but underneath is just a hunk of worthless iron. I'm not convinced the things I'm striving for really matter.

 Last week, I found myself in Las Vegas for a big meeting. It was the kind of meeting you spend months preparing for, the kind where the people who control the future of your livelihood evaluate if you're really worth all the money they're spending on you, the kind where you show up a full day early just to go through a complete dress rehearsal. Fortunately, our preparatory run-through ended at a decent hour, so I went out looking for adventure on the streets of Vegas.
with Dave & Alex

A few weeks ago, I found out on Facebook one of the high school friends of one of my college friends (how's that for a connection?), Dave, would be in Vegas the same time as me, celebrating his birthday with his girlfriend and other friends I'd never met. So naturally, I invited myself to his party. I know that sounds a little crazy, but this is my modus operandi when I'm on the road for business. The way I see it, if the company is paying all this money for me to be in a different city, I may as well make the most of it by building relationships with people I wouldn't normally get to see. Most of the people I call to hang out are either just acquaintances or friends I haven't spoken to in years. I'll never forget the shock in one high school classmate's voice when I called him - I'm pretty sure he was googling me as we spoke, trying to remember who the heck I was - his tone clearly communicated: "I haven't seen you since the 12th grade, and even then we weren't close friends!" In spite of all the initial awkwardness, the visits have made work travel infinitely more fun, and they have a good track record of being the perfect catalyst for turning an acquaintance into a close friend.

Such a beautiful group!
This past Thursday night was a different case altogether, and it was extraordinary. In addition to enjoying catching up with Dave, I was immediately enamored with his friends. I quickly found Alex and I shared an affinity for firearms (much to the chagrin of the girls, who clearly didn't find guns to be an appropriate dinner conversation topic), and sat on the edge of my seat as Beth told me about her work in helping people with disabilities live fuller lives. Liz's blend of sports and trade organization PR sounded like the coolest job ever, and I was glad Yijun had fresh New York cocktail bar recommendations for me. As for Sam, well, I'm still laughing at her awesome dance move, which I affectionately dubbed "The Standing Caterpillar" and I'm 100% certain any photo of her and Dave together would make it to the top spot on Reddit's "aww" thread. These were some of the most amazing people I'd ever met on my travels, and I wanted them to know it - genuinely.

Las Vegas is the gilded city of America. It's coated with glitz, glamour, and astounding facades, which make you forget it's all just built on a big pit of dry sand in the middle of the desolate desert. Sure, the Venetian features a man paddling a gondola on a canal through their lobby, but the pungent chlorine aroma reminded me I certainly wasn't in Italy. In a city where a counterfeit definition of beauty is used to extract money and fleeting happiness from its temporary residents, I had to let this group of wonderful people know they weren't gilded at all - they were the genuine article.

In Love Does, Goff claims the words spoken about us shape who we are, and thus "God speaks something meaningful into our lives and it fills us up and helps us change the world regardless of ourselves and our shortcomings. His name for us is His beloved." While profound, I still thought calling my new friends "beloved" was a little intense, so instead I decided to spend the rest of the evening telling them how beautiful they are (yes, both the guys and the girls). I told them how beautiful their jobs are and how they should be proud of their work, and I told them how beautiful their friendship is and how their group appeared to be the pure embodiment of joy. When we left a club full of people putting on a facade, I told them they were the most beautiful people in the place and how no one could take their eyes off of them. I had never spoken truer words - and I hope my compliments reflected the sincerity with which I said them. I'm sure compliments are a dime a dozen in this town, but hopefully they're a little more powerful when they come from someone they know is happily married and has no ulterior motives. Nonetheless, I continued saying them, and the night was amazing. I didn't make it back to my hotel room until after 2am, and even then I felt I had ended it too early and called Dave to see if they wanted to keep on partying. They wanted to sleep instead.
I'm not attractive enough to be in this photo.

The next day, the meeting did not go as well as I hoped it would. Some of the work I had put diligent effort into was completely disregarded, and some colleagues made comments that were very hurtful to me. On a normal day, this would throw me into a downward-spiraling buzzkill, but not today. I couldn't help but think the words of encouragement I gave my new friends and the hope that the words would "speak something meaningful into their lives" actually mattered way more than this presentation. As soon as the meeting was over, I called Dave because I wanted to see them again.

We sipped beers on his hotel room's balcony, and again I found solace in their wonderful company. Our conversations made the day's worries completely dissipate, and I wanted to stay all night. Yet I couldn't - there was somewhere else I needed to be, and I had to take the midnight flight out of Vegas to Atlanta.

My friend Harrison was getting married the next day, and there was no way I was going to miss that wedding. I had more meetings in Las Vegas on Sunday, meaning I'd get less than 24 hours in Atlanta, and wouldn't have time to recover from the brutal red-eye flight, but I didn't care - Harrison is a great friend, and I love him. My coworkers were shocked to hear this, and one even said: "Why in the world would you give up a free weekend in Vegas where you'd have a chance to network with all the senior executives to fly through the night, be groggy all-day, and get back on another long flight, just to go to a wedding?!" My answer was simple: Love does.
I would not have missed this wedding for the world.

I don't want to be gilded anymore, and I don't want to be focused on succeeding at things that don't matter. I'd much rather be known as the guy who flies through the night just to celebrate with a friend or by any of my new friends knowing they're not only welcome at our home in Atlanta, the red carpet will be rolled out for them any time they'd like to visit.






What I'm Listening to During this Post: