No Arms, No Legs, No Worries

And you keep on concentrating on the things that you wish you had or the things that you wish you didn't have, and you sort of forget what you do have.

When I first watched this video this morning, I thought to myself, "I'm so thankful I'm not like that guy." After letting everything sink in, I now realize how selfish and conceited that thought truly was. Yes, I am thankful that I have arms and legs, but I am jealous that I do not have Nick's attitude or outlook on life.

I like to think of myself as a fairly optimistic person, but in reality, what has happened in my life to warrant a negative attitude?

I grew up in Suburbia. The worst thing that happens there is the drive-thru at Starbucks backs up too far and blocks the front row of parking spaces. The only time I ever saw the "projects" in my city was when I was lost, and we got out of there as quickly as possible - that's why I'm still alive.

What fascinates me about Nick's attitude is that his "handicap" gives his life meaning, and he uses that to encourage others. His message is not about guilt - I have no arms and legs, so be thankful for what you have. Instead, he knows that he is beautiful just the way he is, and he encourages others to adopt that mindset.

Revival of the American Dream

We were at the baggage claim, standing back, watching everyone attack the front of the conveyor belt to retrieve their bags. "Look at this," he said. "Look at these people. They're all so hungry to fetch their own two big bags of luggage, but nobody cares about that little old lady over there who is struggling with just her one. Ha. That's life for ya."

"This book looks pretty cool," I said as I picked up a copy of Adam Shepherd's book Scratch Beginnings off the recommended reading table at David Kidd. It wasn't a typical case of judging a book by its cover but more by its subtitle - Me, $25, and the Search for the American Dream. I picked it up, read the summary on the back cover, and bought it. Thanks, Davis Kidd, for the recommendation.

I highly recommend that you pick up this book, but I will give you a quick overview to bring some context to this post. Adam Shepherd graduated from Merrimack College in Massachusetts in 2006 with his BBA in Management. After reading Barbara Ehrenreich's book Nickel and Dimed, Shepherd disagreed with her negative perception about the hopelessness of America's working class, so he set out to disprove her theory. With $25, and empty duffel bag, and the clothes on his back, he went to Charleston, South Carolina, to live the American Dream and create his own rags to riches story.

After traveling to Los Angeles last week and seeing the madness that we like to call "baggage claim" at LAX, I knew exactly what the quote above was talking about, but I had never even thought to compare it to the way life is. At baggage claim, there are several types of people: everyday travelers, who are numb to their environment to the point that finding their luggage is a mindless task; the people that pick up seventeen different bags before they know which one is theirs; the families where one spouse wrestles the children off the conveyor belt while the other spouse jockeys for position to grab the Hello Kitty bag; the driver who looks for his client's luggage; and the weaker folks who packed entirely too much for their arms to carry.

In each case, every person is focused on his/her own luggage. "That's life for ya."

It makes sense. In our lives, 9 times out of 10, when the heat is on, we're focused on our needs and the needs of our loved ones. Forget strangers. Someone else can look after them. It's not my job. This book was an eye-opener for me, because it made me realize how selfish I really am, despite my own self image as being charitable and compassionate to people in need.

There are some people out there that simply need help. Those are like the weaker people who can't get their own bag off the conveyor belt. No matter how hard they try, they will never be able to defy the forces of gravity and momentum as they are dragged around the baggage carousel. In my job in direct sales, I meet people like this everyday. No matter how hard they work, they truly are victims of circumstance and are unable to improve their standard of living without assistance (usually in the form of welfare).

Then there are the people who are just too lazy or distracted to get their own luggage. These people are my least favorite in life, but I feel like I am called to love them even more. While some people are victims of circumstances, there are others who just call themselves victims on account of their own laziness. Adam Shepherd ran into a lot of these types of people throughout the course of his journey. The mindset is a lot like this: "Why should I go get a job when I can get paid to sit here on my couch." This attitude lights a fire in me.

The lower class in America is stuck in a rut, and according to Shepherd's book, there are three types of people.

Those who make things happen.
Those who watch things happen.
Those who sit back, scratch their heads, and wonder, "What in the hell just happened."

After reading this book, I am torn between two conflicting sides. The competitor in me tells me that they should figure it out themselves, get a job, and improve their circumstances. The compassionate one in me, which also comes from my Christian upbringing, tells me that I need to help these people.

For a political turn: whose responsibility should it be to help those who really need it? Mine. Ours. But our tax dollars should not do the work for us.

Easter Eve?

In the Christian faith, we basically have two "high-profile" holidays, Christmas and Easter, both of which were set up to commemorate the two most important points in Christ's presence here on earth. Christmas was set up to remember Jesus' birth with presents, trees, lights, and eggnog. Easter was established to honor Jesus' death with chocolate bunnies, eggs (interesting that eggs are referenced in both holidays), and jelly beans.

Typically, Christian churches will pull out all the stops on for Christmas with a special Christmas program where all the moms jockey for position to get their sons and daughters cast as Joseph and Mary, and one lucky mom will receive the highest honor of having her newborn son cast as the baby Jesus. I wonder how many "baby Jesus" end up to be hoodlums in their teenage years?

Then there's Easter. To bring a great focus to Jesus death, Christians have established a "Holy Week." It starts off the Sunday before Passover with Palm Sunday. Then we have Maundy Thursday, which is also the day of Passover in the Jewish faith. Next, we have Good Friday, which is the day of Jesus' crucifixion. And of course, Holy Week is brought to a great end with Easter Sunday. Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday are just ignored in this Holy Week. We ran out of cool names.

Saturday acts as an intermission. Nothing happened on Saturday. Jesus was in the tomb. God didn't do anything. Nothing happened.

That's why Saturday is so important.

Hebrews 11:1 says, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."

Until his crucifixion, Jesus has thousands of followers and opponents. He was doing ministry as God's Son, the Chosen One, the Messiah, for about three years. People knew him. People saw him. People were healed by him. Then he died. He was gone. Now what? This isn't what the Torah said would happen. Our "Messiah" is dead. We've been following this guy for three years, and now he's dead.

This is what Saturday looked like.

Then on Sunday, Jesus rose from the dead. Jesus was back. People saw him. He was hanging out with the apostles again. The Messiah has risen. The prophecy has been fulfilled. This is the Christ. That's what Sunday looked like. A few weeks later, Jesus left again to sit at the right hand of God. Jesus wasn't there anymore, but God's Spirit descended from Heaven in Acts 2 to guide the way until Jesus' next return.

If you've ever felt the emptiness of a breakup, been punched in the face by divorce, or abandoned at the Grand Canyon, multiply that hollow feeling by one million. That's what Saturday felt like following his death. Our Savior is dead. He's not coming back. He lied to us. How would your faith have looked on Saturday? The great thing about the Christian faith is just that - faith.

As Hebrews says, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see." Saturday was the day where a line was drawn in the sand. He's gone, but do you still believe? Are you certain? Today, we find ourselves in the same situation. Waiting. Hoping. Yet still certain of what we do not see.