Cool Factor, Part 4
The problem with the desire to be cool - the longing to run with the "in" crowd - is that it is a desire for self-affirmation. I end up believing that if I can associate myself with the right people, everyone else will think I'm a neat person because of those associations.
Relationships that are pursued for those reasons will always fail, because the assumption going into those relationships is that being affiliated with someone else can somehow make me feel valid. And, in the end, it can't. In that sense, coolness is an illusion, every bit as powerful as the illusions that wealth or influence or sexiness are what make us complete.
Coolness is nothing but an appearance, based on what others think of me, and it vanishes like mist when I leave the spotlight.
I've been thinking. What if giving up coolness, like every other illusion of self-sufficiency, is the only way to truly find it? What if I suddenly decided to stop caring about what other people think about me and base my associations in life instead on Kingdom principles? Reach out to the uneducated, the poor, the disenfranchised, the misfits?
In short, what if I became uncool for the uncool?
Don't get me wrong. I doubt - seriously doubt - that a lot of folks suddenly think me cool when I do this. I don't think of figures like Mother Theresa in the same category as Tom Cruise or Jennifer Lopez. Yet, I have to confess that when I do this - when I forget all about what people are thinking and about whether I'm being accepted by the right people - and when I become focused on the needs of others - there is a certain peace that overtakes me.
I think that this goes to the very essence of what Jesus calls us to do. To give up ourselves. To give up on the silly idea that I can somehow feel good about myself because the right people like me, to stop thinking about myself altogether, and to start focusing on bringing the Kingdom to the world.
In that surrender, there is freedom. Suddenly, all of the things that ordinarly worry me - whether this person still thinks of me as their friend, whether that person considers me a part of his inner circle, whether I've "touched base" enough with the people I want to hang out with - just fall off like shackles.
Suddenly, I notice people I hadn't noticed before - when all I was looking for was acceptance and approval by the right ones - and I can reach out to those folks, regardless of whether I think that I stand to benefit from the relationship. In short, I am free to pursue the mission of Jesus instead of being a slave to my own vanity.
And that freedom, in and of itself, has a coolness of its own. Not the kind that comes from being accepted by the right crowd, but the kind that comes from the intrinsic knowledge that I am loved by my Father both for who I am and who I am becoming.
Relationships that are pursued for those reasons will always fail, because the assumption going into those relationships is that being affiliated with someone else can somehow make me feel valid. And, in the end, it can't. In that sense, coolness is an illusion, every bit as powerful as the illusions that wealth or influence or sexiness are what make us complete.
Coolness is nothing but an appearance, based on what others think of me, and it vanishes like mist when I leave the spotlight.
I've been thinking. What if giving up coolness, like every other illusion of self-sufficiency, is the only way to truly find it? What if I suddenly decided to stop caring about what other people think about me and base my associations in life instead on Kingdom principles? Reach out to the uneducated, the poor, the disenfranchised, the misfits?
In short, what if I became uncool for the uncool?
Don't get me wrong. I doubt - seriously doubt - that a lot of folks suddenly think me cool when I do this. I don't think of figures like Mother Theresa in the same category as Tom Cruise or Jennifer Lopez. Yet, I have to confess that when I do this - when I forget all about what people are thinking and about whether I'm being accepted by the right people - and when I become focused on the needs of others - there is a certain peace that overtakes me.
I think that this goes to the very essence of what Jesus calls us to do. To give up ourselves. To give up on the silly idea that I can somehow feel good about myself because the right people like me, to stop thinking about myself altogether, and to start focusing on bringing the Kingdom to the world.
In that surrender, there is freedom. Suddenly, all of the things that ordinarly worry me - whether this person still thinks of me as their friend, whether that person considers me a part of his inner circle, whether I've "touched base" enough with the people I want to hang out with - just fall off like shackles.
Suddenly, I notice people I hadn't noticed before - when all I was looking for was acceptance and approval by the right ones - and I can reach out to those folks, regardless of whether I think that I stand to benefit from the relationship. In short, I am free to pursue the mission of Jesus instead of being a slave to my own vanity.
And that freedom, in and of itself, has a coolness of its own. Not the kind that comes from being accepted by the right crowd, but the kind that comes from the intrinsic knowledge that I am loved by my Father both for who I am and who I am becoming.
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