– G. Campbell Morgan

For some reason, it was on my mind this morning. I kept repeating the title in my mind, “In the Shadow of Grace… In the Shadow of Grace…” So, after getting home from breakfast with my grandma, I took the book off the shelf and was struck by the following quote in the foreward from Toni Morrison’s book Paradise:

“Playing blind was to avoid the language God spoke in. He did not thunder instructions or whisper messages into ears. Oh, no. He was a liberating God: A teacher who taught you how to learn, to see for yourself. His signs were clear, abundantly so, if you stopped seeping in vanity’s soul juice and paid attention to His world.”

These heavy and illustrative words paint a beautiful picture in my mind: all that is around us, including the pain and the joy, is an opportunity to encounter grace and be free. I, for one, love the idea of grace, but only when it comes to other people. I do not extend the same amount of grace I give others to myself.

When I read the words of Morrison, “[stop] seeping in vanity’s soul juice and [pay] attention to His world,” I realize not giving myself grace is a form of vanity. It cheapens the grace I give to others because if it isn’t good enough for me, why would it be good enough for someone else?

Grace is not easy for me to accept. I would much rather face punishment. Fortunately, grace is liberation from myself and the prison I keep myself locked up in.

The fact I need grace reminds me of my humanity, frailty, and fallibility. My eyes open to the things of this world where I can make a difference and the clear signs from God become an intimate whisper of acceptance.

On one hand, I long to be back there. I felt needed, significant. This feeling was shared by one team member in an interview, “The one thing that I crave, I think we all crave, is being significant in the world we live in to make a difference.”

On the other hand, I am wrecked by the experience: the joy in the lives of others who have nothing, the fear in the eyes of people living way outside their comfort zone, the numbing distance in the eyes of little kids without parents. The smells of waste and burning trash fill my nostrils. Echoing in my ears are the sounds of roosters crowing, kids playing, and giant dump trucks speeding down gravel roads. It’s all there. Staring at me from my computer monitor and my memories.

It’s taken me almost three weeks to realize the importance of expressing these emotions.

For two weeks, I could barely function. I found myself in the deepest depression of my life. I wanted to hide from the task of editing the footage. I didn’t want to relive the experience. I felt like a tremendous failure as I physically, emotionally, and spiritually just couldn’t process what was buried deep in my soul.

It wasn’t until I had lunch with four of the guys on the trip that I realized, I am not alone. My experience was validated by their encouraging words. I am not alone. These emotions are real and lead me to a place of acceptance.

I don’t think I’ll ever be the same.

Pretty funny, huh? How about Monty Python’s The Lumberjack Song? It’s right here.

Go and find something that makes you laugh.

I recently had a scenario where the worst that could happen, did indeed happen.

The outcome was unexpected.

I felt relieved, as if I didn’t have to pretend to be someone else anymore.

Sure, life is a little more difficult than I would like it to be right now. But, I’m taking responsibility for living the life I want to live, as opposed to listening to the collective “they” telling me how I should be living.

As my friend Bruce Elgort tweeted earlier today: “Your communication is the response you receive.”  Life is similar, except that it is your response to the response of others. Or simply put, making lemonade when life gives you lemons.

Carnegie gives very succinct points on overcoming worry centered around a very simple premise:  do your homework. He describes the basic steps of problem analysis as:

1. Get the facts.
2. Analyze the facts.
3. Arrive at a decision.
4. Act on that decision.

Carnegie’s solution to overcoming worry is very similar to Branson’s advice for entrepreneurial success. Branson offers:

1. Discuss your plans.
2. Talk them through with a mentor.
3. Achieve “something fairly substantial in the way of preparation.”
4. Ignore the naysayers if your really feel you have something good to offer and have the financials worked out.
5. Just do it.

Achieving success and overcoming worry or fear are built upon the same timeless advice:  Get the facts, develop a plan, and do it. Extremely logical advice, but how does someone overcome strong emotions tied to failure and fear? Talk with mentors, friends, and advisers. This is what is called relational currency. Without it, you’ll go emotionally broke before you have a chance to bank your actual financials.

Taking this advice from Carnegie and Branson, enter into the logic of what you are trying to achieve or overcome, but don’t forget to build relationships because logic only goes so far.

Brian Reich writes the following in Shift & Reset:

“I am angry. There are real problems facing the world, and we, as a society, are not doing enough to address them in the right ways, not the ways we know are possible. The old way isn’t working, and we know it.

We continue to reward the same behaviors we have rewarded in the past while expecting different results. We profess interest in really doing things differently but settle into routines that are comfortable and safe, and we are fooling ourselves. There are lots of excuses for not making real, demonstrable changes in the way we live, work, and how we interact as individuals and engage in groups/communities. I have heard them all. I have used many of them myself. But they are bullshit. All excuses are. A person either truly, deeply, genuinely cares about changing things or he doesn’t. You can step up and do what it takes, in whatever way you can, or you need to acknowledge your limits and accept the results.

What might be possible if we were really committed, as individuals and as a society? I’ve thought a lot about this, and instead of remaining angry, I choose to embrace the question and figure out how I can use the anger to make things happen.”

So with that, read the PDF, realize that you don’t really care, and start caring.

I am not opposed to being judged, critiqued, or graded according to certain standards.  As long as the standards of judgment are defined and shared.

It is the mark of a coward, not a critic, that takes a cheap shot without explanation.

It is my responsibility to ignore the coward, but the attitude of inexplicable superiority will eternally piss me off.

This anger drives me to act appropriately when I am in the position of grading someone else.

I will always tell you what I think and why.

Is it too much to ask for the same in return?