New Life'n

Special bonus: Fuzzy Hoper 7 - One reason why things might be fuzzy

I had another thought for the fuzzy hoper safari. Scroll down for the other six or seven.

Fuzzy hope is when you want something but you don't know what it is.

Chances are, it feels noble and good. It feels like a change for the better. It feels like building something that makes a difference, a contribution. You feel pulled to this something and you crave clarity.

But you have an enemy. And the enemy would love to nip hope in it's fuzzy bud.

You've heard and felt the enemy without recognizing it as an enemy

When you feel the pull, and you squint and yearn, the enemy says, "Who do you think you are? There's nothing there for you. You're just going to be disappointed. You'll fail and look stupid. People will laugh at you!"

The little negative narrator never shuts up. And his voice is personalized for you as if he knows what will discourage and stop you. His voice sounds like your voice. You think it's you. Since you think it's you, it seems normal and true. You never question it.

It's not you.

Some call it The Resistance. Some call it The Lizard Brain and say it's the part of your caveman brain that doesn't want you to take risks because there are saber-toothed tigers out there. Or maybe it's the devil, the enemy of everything good and positive.

Whatever it is, it acts like a friend who wants to protect you by getting you to play it safe.

As if the way things are now is as safe as it gets. Ha!

Don't be fooled. Don't believe the negative narrator who is easily understood.

Believe the fuzzy, hard to understand voice whispering, "Over here . . . over here . . ."

Oh, and do NOT click on any of these links:

Thinking a Career

Quieting the Lizard Brain

How to find your purpose and do what you love

My scars, they are your scars, and your world is mine

That's my daughter about to ring the doorbell at the home of the mother of her childhood best friend. The best friend died of brain cancer two years ago.

My daughter was nervous. She hadn't seen her friend or her friend's mom in ten years. She didn't know what she was going to say.

Her friend's mother wasn't home. Whew.

As my daughter walked away a neighbor across the street asked if she could help. The neighbor said the mom wasn't there but would be down the street the next day.

My daughter wasn't sure about going back. Through the window when she was ringing the doorbell she had seen a lift rigged to the stairs and she pictured the mom old and disabled and maybe it would just be too sad for everyone for her to visit. Now she was even more nervous.

She want back anyway. She took her sister. And her own mom, my wife. We all used to be neighbors, but that was 25 years ago.

It was a short, good visit. The mom wasn't sick or disabled or sad. What a relief. But then she pulled out photos of her daughter's small child. My daughter didn't know her friend had any kids. Now THAT was sad. The visitors were sadder than the host. The mom had been through the grieving process. The guests hadn't.

They held their tears until they left the house with their backs to the door. Then they boo-hoo'd in the car.

Why invite pain? Why invite sadness? The mom will never know if you choose not to knock.

Yes she will

If you knock she gets another little sign that she's not forgotten and alone. Little signs might be all she has.

You have kids. You imagine how she feels.

YOU don't want to be forgotten and alone.

So you knock.

Fuzzy Hoper 6 - What's normal?

This is the last (for now) of the little series on Fuzzy Hope -- when you want something but don't know what it is. This is sort of a prequel to Scary Hope: Courage and a kick to hug hope, face fear, and get going.

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Yes you can know

At the end of his earthly life Jesus said to his Father, "I brought you glory on earth by finishing the work you gave me to do."

He knew what the work was. It was specific, not vague. Not fuzzy. Course he was Jesus. But he was also a man on earth who knew his assignment.

Paul too. At the end of his life he said he had fought the good fight and finished the race. He knew what race he was running and he knew when it was done. Course he was Paul. But still, he was a man on earth who knew his assignment.

Paul also said that we all are God's workmanship, "created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them." As if there's an assignment.

Organic, fuzzy, or aha!

Maybe for some you can be walking in the good works prepared for you beforehand without really being aware of your assignment. It's just what you do, organically, as natural as your personality, and you can't really describe it.

For others maybe sometimes God wants you aware and wants you to cooperate with him. For you the journey to sync up with him is part of the assignment. For you, this journey, this safari, starts with fuzzy hope.

Fuzzy hope is the tension that causes you to seek, to squint, to be sensitive. The frustration and confusion is not bad or abnormal. Morning fog lifts slowly.

Or you may have your aha! moment. John Piper decided to preach while sick in his college infirmary. David McCullough decided to write "The Great Bridge" after a lunch conversation with men he was interviewing on another subject.

You can chill

Aha! or fuzzy, what if the safari to gain clarity is as important as the assignment itself? If assignments come from someone, then can't that someone reveal it how and when he wants?

What if the assigner is most interested in developing a personal relationship with the assignee, and keeping things fuzzy is the best way to do that, at least for now?

Delays in clarity may come from preparations happening that you're clueless of. If you knew the assignment you might run ahead. At the same time, frustration can be part of the preparation.

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Jesus came to earth knowing his assignment. Aha!

Moses doubted his for forty years. Half of his life was a fuzzy hope safari.

Both got there. I'll bet you're something in between.

Fuzzy Hoper 5 - A posse of questions to chase down your fuzzy hope

This is a brief series on fuzzy hope -- when you want something but you don't know what it is. Just a couple more. To get it automatically in your inbox, go HERE.

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I'm afraid of heights. Can NOT even look over a ledge. Uh-uh, no way.

Bridgebuilders love heights. Here's a description of the builders of the Brooklyn Bridge from "The Great Bridge" by David McCullough:

No man can be a bridgebuilder who must educate his nerves. It must be a constitutional gift . . . They must plant their feet by instinct . . . and be able to look down hundreds of feet without a muscle trembling.

That's not me, and it may not be you, but I do have a 'constitutional gift' and an ability to plant my feet by instinct in some areas, and so do you.

The "What do you really want" question is trying to get you to that area.

Here are a few more questions to chase your fuzzy hope. You're not looking for an aha! moment. You're looking for clues, for threads.

When do you feel most alive? 

Think back over the last week, the last month, and over your life as much as you can remember. What were you doing, what was the situation when you felt so alive?

If you knew you would succeed -- if God said "Pick and I'll bless it!" -- what would you do?

Just pretend of course. Isn't it fun to pretend? Since it's only pretend, go ahead and answer the question.

When do you get encouraging, positive responses from people?

What happened for them to respond that way? Again, think back over weeks and years. Anything consistent there?

"I've always wanted to . . ."

To what? What do you keep thinking about over the years that has never changed. It's not a phase. You think you're just dreaming and being unrealistic, but are you?

Another way to ask these same questions:

What have you loved doing? And not just loved it but you were good at it. And you know you were good at it because people told you.

This is the part where you take serious what I said about not expecting a traditionally defined box or role or job or skill. If you expect something predictable, you might say, "I'm not good at anything."

And that would be a lie.

You were created in God's image with creativity and the urge to make a mark and bear fruit. You have a 'constitutional gift' and an ability to plant your feet by instinct somewhere, somehow. Guaranteed. Don't limit it to a job description.

* * *

I'm reading Jon Acuff's book "Quitter." Jon is thinking more of a 'dream job' rather than the inner compulsion, assignment-to-a-corner-of-the-pool that I think a fuzzy hope is, but he made me think of another way of looking at it.

He talks about finding the thing you're looking for as a 'recovery' more than than 'discovery.'

So maybe you're already familiar with it. Your fuzzy hope is an old friend you've forgotten. You danced with it. You never took it serious, or maybe you did but only for awhile. You hear its voice now and you realize it's been talking to you for a long time but you haven't been listening.

What's the old friend saying?

Next: What to expect on your fuzzy hope safari

Fuzzy Hoper 4 - Your corner of the pool

This is a brief series on fuzzy hope -- when you want something but you don't know what it is. There might be six of these. To get it automatically in your inbox, go HERE.

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Two quick stories:

I once spent a morning with an older man whose wife suffered from Alzheimer's. He had been a Christian university president with more ministry beyond the school.

He resigned from the school and his ministry to care for his wife. He said it was the normal thing to do because of the vow he made when they got married.

He said taking care of her was his 'assignment.' He didn't even have to think about it.

Another time I was helping a pastor record his regular one-minute feature for New Life 91.9, the radio station I serve. He always stopped at one minute even though I knew he had so much more to say. I told him it took discipline to do that.

He said, "My job is to take care of my corner of the pool. I don't have to say everything."

If I try to summarize the creation account in Genesis in my own words as simply as I can, I think this is one of the things God is saying to us:

"I'm a creative God and I made you in my image. You're creative too."

"Bear fruit. Make a mark in the area of your dominion. Shape it. Oversee your area. That's your assignment. That's your corner of the pool."

Obviously that will look different for each of us, otherwise we'd all be watching over the same corner of the pool.

So what does it look like for you?

As you squint at your fuzzy hope, don't think of a job or pay or a defined role. It might involve all those, but don't think of that. Think desire, compulsion, satisfaction.

And don't expect the regular, traditionally defined boxes of "calling." You might be the only one of you.

Yes, it would be easier to think of it as a traditional job, like teacher, entrepreneur, pastor, missionary, table tennis ace. But you might miss something.

Don't assign yourself a corner of the pool just to relieve the tension. You don't want that. Don't rush into clarity for it's own sake. Don't force your fuzzy into a box.

Your choices are wider and more mysterious than you think.

Next: Some practical questions to probe your fuzzy hope

Fuzzy Hoper 3 - A quick question to get you an inch closer to knowing your shape

This is a brief series on fuzzy hope -- when you want something but you don't know what it is. There might be five or six of these. To get it automatically in your inbox, go HERE.

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(video is 3:47)

No fair! You already asked that question!

Yes but now you've had a chance to think about it without limits.

It's a chance to get a clue to how God has shaped you.

You live with that shaping every second but there are also limits and restrictions that distract you every second.

When you clear a hole through the underbrush of restrictions and distractions, do you see maybe a little thing in there? Hear a little peep peep voice?

If you had to answer that question in ten seconds, and you did, what was the answer?

And what does that mean?

What should you do about that?

It can be scary, but also a little step toward clarity in your fuzzy hope.

Next: Your corner of the pool

Fuzzy Hoper 2 -- Becoming who you already are

This is a brief series on fuzzy hope -- when you want something but you don't know what it is. There might be five or six of these. To get it automatically in your inbox, go HERE.

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What shape are you?

Our job in this lifetime is not to shape ourselves into some ideal we imagine we ought to be, but to find out who we already are and become it -- Steven Pressfield

Did God create all of you, or just the spiritual part?

Did he knit you together and know you in the womb? If you have children, did you notice they were different right from the beginning?

Was he in control of the parents you have, the family you were in, and the experiences you had growing up? Or was all that random, a coincidence?

Do you know anyone else just like you? Why are there not any others exactly like you?

Do you know anyone just like anyone else you know? Why in your whole life have you never met someone exactly like someone else you know? The most you ever get is they remind you of someone. Why?

Are you good at some things and not so good at others? And are others good and not so good at different things than you? How did that happen? Where did that come from? Was it coincidence? Is that an area God is not sovereign over?

Have you ever heard someone say they felt like they were born to do some certain thing they were doing? Have you ever felt that way?

Could your whole self be divinely shaped to be and do certain things? And if so, wouldn't it be good to cooperate with God in his shaping, that you might find out who you already are in his purposes and become it?

Ahh, and there's the brick wall. I don't have a clue how he's shaped me!

Yes you do. I promise you do. But you're so close to it you can't appreciate it. You live with it every second.

Next: A quick question to get you an inch closer to knowing your shape.

Fuzzy Hoper 1 - The question that changed everything for me

This is a brief series on fuzzy hope -- when you want something but you don't know what it is. Today is day one. There might be five or six of these. You can subscribe HERE.

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I don't remember when I first heard the question. But I remember when I first answered it.

It was five years ago.

The question?

"What do you really want?"

To answer it, I had to pretend. I had to pretend that I was someone else and that another someone else had asked me the question.

The only way I could answer was if I wasn't me.

Because 'me' has always done what other people want. 'Me' has always thought the God's-will-for-my-life idea happened TO you and not THROUGH you with your cooperation. 'Me' always thought doing what you want sounds selfish and unspiritual.

I don't know why I took the question serious. It seems like it evolved over several days or weeks. Maybe it was years. But it was as if someone really was asking and they expected an answer. As if they wanted to know if I was paying attention.

Paying attention?

Paying attention to something put inside me by someone else. Something already there. Did I notice, could I recognize it? Or was I too busy with my own agenda?

What? Too busy with my own agenda to recognize what I really wanted? That doesn't make sense.

Well, if you just flat out ask me, sure I know what I want, but there's all kinds of talent and experience and credentialing and talent and time limits and lots more that just make this an unrealistic question . . .

"I didn't ask you what you really wanted IF. I asked you what you really wanted period. Would you just answer the question?"

I didn't hear those words. But it was as if I did. Like someone very important expected me to take it serious and give an answer. And they were waiting.

That's when I pretended. I pretended that it wasn't me and that I could actually answer the question without any limits or qualifications. Just pretend, I thought.

"I'd really like to say things that make a difference. Those messages inside me -- I'd like to speak them and write them down, and leave them behind after I'm gone. And I'd like to have a small place in some rural or mountain area where small groups of people come to hear God and be encouraged."

There, I said it. It was like it had always been inside me but it was invisible until I said it.

And I felt RATS, now it's visible. Now I have to do something about it. But that's a whole different conversation which is what Scary Hope is about.

How would YOU answer that question?

What do you really want? Seriously.

I know, it doesn't seem right -- you're not suppossed to be asked, you're suppossed to be told. You don't just get to pick whatever you want.

But what if what you want IS what you've been told? And the question is asked to make sure you've heard what you've been told?

Maybe you think, "What if it's just me and I'm not really being asked that question?"

But what if it's not just you and you ARE being asked?

How would you answer?

Maybe you say "I really want what I got going on now. What's the big deal? You introspective ones kill me."

If that's you I'm jealous.

Maybe like me, if you give yourself permission, you actually do see something and can define it, but you don't see how in a million years it could happen. Again, that's Scary Hope.

Or maybe you don't have a clue. You want to answer it but can't. And the question feels uncomfortably personal. That's fuzzy hope and the next few days are for you.

Next: Becoming who you already are

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To give feedback on how to make this better and more helpful, and to share YOUR answer to the question, email me at [email protected] or share in the comments. Thanks!

Invitation to the Fuzzy Hoper Safari

Recently they went looking for Amelia Earhart again. Didn't find her again. They've looked for her remains and her plane for years. They won't give up hope. They're convinced something is there. I've read about the evidence and there's reason to be convinced.

They could be wrong. But at least they know what they're looking for.

If you wish you knew what you were looking for, the next week or so here might be for you.

Is this you?

• you want something but you don't know what it is
• you feel you need a change but you don't know to what
• you're lost in a non-man's land of comfort, fear, restlessness, and fog
• but you suspect your restlessness could be just a season of life
• or you fear you're wimping out and just want to escape

Who knows why we get restless and feel the things we do? Very possibly it IS just a season, or a desire to escape.

But shouldn't you maybe try to find out?

You wouldn't be hungry if there was no such thing as food. You wouldn't be thirsty if there was no water.

If you sense a hunger and thirst, could it be because something is there?

And if there's NOT, wouldn't you want to know that, too?

Whatever reality is, it's best to face it and get it over with.

I wrote Scary Hope about embracing fear and change, and pursuing hopes and dreams. But what if you don't know what you're hoping for? What if your hope is fuzzy?

Mine is. I'm a fuzzy hoper. But I'm slowly learning how to bring it into focus. You can, too. And you can help me do it better.

For the next week or so you have an opportunity to take a step closer to clarity on that fuzzy hope inside you.

A week to squint and stare at this Sasquatch that may or may not be real.

Every day or so, I'll start the musing and thinking and question asking. Maybe you just read and ponder. Maybe you think and answer some questions for yourself and even pray.

Or maybe you go deep and tell this thing to put up or shut up, and tell it that if it has something to say to come out in the open and say it.

You might even share your own story and journey, either in comments or privately in email. And I'd love your feedback on the whole process. Your feedback might help me put together some kind of guide or ebook that will help others even more.

By the way. Safari is a Swahili word that means 'long journey.'

I hope our short safari here is the beginning of a long journey to a good place for you.

Tomorrow: The question that changed everything for me.

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Are you hiding from your dream?

You know dreams and big plans are scary.

Would you think they'd be scary to little kids? Not yours to them; their own dreams. What kind of dreams and goals could a kid have that would scare them?

Doesn't matter what kind. They're all scary.

Last weekend with the grandkids we watched the first few days of the Olympics and athletes reaching their dream.

We watched the movie "Being Elmo" about the guy who dreamed of working with Jim Henson and who then became Elmo. We watched "Cool Runnings" about the Jamaican bobsled team's dreams. We viewed the "Caine's Arcade" video about the nine-year old boy who dreamed of his own arcade and then created one from cardboard boxes in his dad's auto parts store.

Now it was the kids' turn.

I gave the six of them a fun worksheet. In huge bold letters at the top of the worksheet were the words "My Big Dream." Under that it said, "One day I will ____" with a blank for them to finish the sentence.

I reminded them of the stories we'd seen over several days. I told them their dream could be something they do or accomplish or make or become. Whatever they felt or heard inside them.

The worksheet asked a few simple questions about their dream, what it is, how it would help people, and it had a place to draw a picture of what it would be like when their big dream happened. I just wanted them to realize they could think big. I was lighthearted about it.

It scared them all

One wouldn't do it. The five others tried to hide what they were writing. Then when they did write they turned their papers over and didn't want to talk about it. The twelve year old folded his worksheet in thirds and sealed it in an envelope and stashed it away. NO WAY would he share what it was about.

You'd think you'd naturally embrace change and dreams and hope.

Nope.

Fear of dreams starts young and it doesn't go away. The kid afraid of criticism, rejection, failure, and being told "you can't do that!" turns into the grownup afraid of the same thing.

Hiding your dream from others is understandable.

But you can hide it from yourself too. Do that and you'll spend the rest of your life with your fingers in your ears so you don't hear that thing calling your name.

It takes courage to listen. No matter how old you are.