Spiritual ADHD: Asking Dumb Questions, Forgetting God, and How to Stop Doing Both

Having worked over a decade at the same charter school, in the same grade (5th), with the same academic standards, and virtually the same 8-10 minute drive five days a week and 180 days a year, I have had my fair share of experiences with students I have taught in year's past come back to visit me in my classroom: three feet taller and hopefully a profusion of knowledge in that ever-growing brain of theirs. I have also experienced kids much younger than 5th grade, approach me at school practically yelling, "Mr. Fitz! My sister was in your class!" And while the confidence they have to approach me in such a manner is inspiring and their excitement to chat with me is flattering, I am not as hard on myself for forgetting who it is I am talking to compared to when it comes from a former student five years older and three feet taller.

After all, there was once a time when I taught them 30+ hours a week, 180 days out of the year. All that time, and the best I can do is think, Who are you and why do you look so familiar? My logic is, if I truly formed a solid bond with that student, I should know them by name no matter how many years passed. I should recall vivid memories, because my entire year was formed around molding that child academically, socially, and emotionally.

I'm not one to forgive myself quickly and easily, especially in the aspect of teacher-student relationships. I pride myself in my ability to connect with the students in a friendly, silly, encouraging way that reminds them they matter and are seen, heard, and most importantly, considered a valuable part of the classroom and the world. So when I forget, it feels like I never connected with them when they were in my classroom full time. Then I feel worse. I should know this student because I put my time and energy into loving them, I think to myself. 

Then I consider the disciples, who are just like me, and it becomes so much easier to forgive myself for these blunders.

Throughout the New Testament, there are numerous "I forgot" moments the disciples have in Jesus' presence: ones where Jesus must have been thinking, Have you gone mad? Are you deranged? Like a coach should have unswerving confidence in his players representing the team, I'm certain Jesus had a similar attitude towards his disciples. But sometimes you have to wonder why Jesus chose them in the first place.

Consider one example. Jesus revealed to the disciples the suffering, unforgivable torture, and eventual death he would endure after being arrested and placed in the hands of the chief priests. Peter staunchly replies that it will never happen to Jesus, no way no how. Anyone who had ever read this part of Matthew knows what happens next. Without hesitation, Jesus calls Peter, "Satan" and a "Stumbling Block" (Matthew 16:21-23). Can you imagine being the other 11 disciples in that moment? You could probably hear a rabbit munching on a carrot in the nearby garden of Gethsemane. Matthew probably whispered "No he didn't" to Phillip to cut through the awkward silence like a sharp knife.

"Glad I didn't share what I was thinking," one disciple. "Did he call him Satan?"

"Do you actually think Peter is Satan?" Another disciple.

"Suspend him without pay," a third disciples whispers.

"Bro. We're not getting paid," pause. "Wait, are you getting paid?"

"Someone give Petey a hug. He needs it." 

"He needs more than a hug...if you know what I mean."

"Andrew! You naughty dog!"

Regardless, Peter's famously bold statement that caused Jesus to call him Satan is not the only incident that would cause most to wonder what was going through the minds of the disciples, who gave up their old lives to spend every waking moment walking with Jesus and getting to know him. After all, if you were to invest all of that time, effort, and energy following Jesus' every footstep, listening to every word, and copying every behavior, you should be able to discern what to say and not to say during his most tense moments.

But this moment is not just a stand-alone. Peter acting a fool is not an abnormal incident where a disciple misspoke and expressed a thought that was misaligned with Jesus' mission - and it's not just Peter.

Enter Phillip, another one of Jesus' disciples, who had a whoopsie moment in front of Jesus. A "You've been with me all this time, and that's the best question you've got?" kind of moment. In fact, I'm pretty confident my translation isn't too far off from what was actually said.

In John 14, we see Jesus sitting with his disciples, talking to them and preparing them for the future - a future, mind you, without Jesus' physical presence. Fortunately, the disciples had already spent a lot of time with Jesus up until this point, so there would be no reason to believe what teachers in the school setting would try to avoid calling a "dumb question." But, as most, if not all teachers know, dumb questions do exist, and Phillip proves just that. 

He asks a dumb question.

I'll also happily admit that I tell kids the only dumb questions are ones that have already been answered less than 5 minutes prior. What's wild is that Jesus insinuates Phillip's question is profoundly dumb because Jesus spent his entire journey with the disciples answering the question Phil asks. Take a look:

"Phillip said, 'Lord, show us the father and that will be enough for us.'

Jesus answered, 'Don't you know me, Phillip (you know it's real when he calls him Phillip, not Phil), even after I have been among you such a long time? Anyone who has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, 'Show us the Father'?" (John 14:8-9).

There is so much unpacking we can do here, but to stay on point, this is exactly what Spiritual ADHD looks like, because Jesus essentially tells Phillip, "Where have you been?" Maybe Phil didn't forget - maybe he was just afraid of what a post-Jesus world would look like. Or maybe through fear, Phil forgot who Jesus is and what his mission was when he was on earth. Either way, Phil's woopsie moment goes down as one of the Hall of Fame "I Forgot" moments.

***

While it would be easy to lambaste Phil for asking such a disrespectful question, it would be even easier for Phil to criticize us for our lack of faith and understanding. After all, we're the ones living in an age where streets are abundant with churches we can freely worship in without condemnation and a prison sentence awaiting us. We're the generation that has WiFi access, Bible apps and Christian e-books just one click away. Don't care for digital books? Go to Amazon and have a physical book delivered to your door in less than one week. You are not frowned upon for loving God; in fact, enter any church and you likely find someone else who wants to walk the spiritual journey with you - and speaking of walking, you don't have to. You can drive, and if you can't, you can find someone who does. The point is, most people don't have restrictions to their faith the way the disciples did back then.

And we have "I forgot" moments like Phil did all the time. Even in a society where the Bible and Christ-inspired believers, pastors, and authors are right around the corner, on the internet, and within our friend groups just a text away, we still forget how mighty, loving, gracious, powerful, and wise God is. We forget that He is on our side, and He does not just have the answer...

He is the answer.

So, how do we avoid falling into these "I forgot" moments that so many of the disciples got swept up in?

1. Seek Christ with your entire being: "Those who seek Christ, shall find him," according to Matthew Henry Commentary on Luke 24, "he will manifest himself to those that inquire after him..." 

Since I have worked at EDUPRIZE for a while I have seen many faces - most of them I know because they spent approximately 180 days in my classroom. The students I see outside of the classroom are on the way to dropping my students off at specials (PE, Computers, Science, Music, etc.) or at lunch, when other younger grades are outside as well. Because I am not engaged with these younger grades on a daily basis, they know my name but I often don't know theirs when they shout mine. 

God's Word promises we will find Him when we look, and unlike my EDUPRIZE interactions with kids I do not know, he knows your name! When we abide in him and store our treasures up in Heaven, not on our earthly problems, he will manifest himself to us - what an incredible gift! 

2. Limit time spent "admiring the problem": Do not confuse this with 'considering' the problem. Yes, we do need to consider the problem, but as a means to an end. Problems should only garner attention in order to come up with adequate and appropriate solutions. When we're confronted with spiritual ADHD - lack of focus on our solution - we should spend more time developing solutions through God's wisdom rather than focusing only on the problem and its deadly ripple effects. As Kaye Otten and Jodie Tuttle says in their book How to Reach and Teach Children with Challenging Behaviors, "...we need to use [time] wisely, focusing more time on problem solving than problem admiring." Though Otten and Tuttle's book applies more to children and their misbehaviors in the classroom, we can easily apply this rule of thumb to how we approach our spiritual journey with God. 

From my own experience, sometimes I get so wrapped up in my problems, I fuse God to them and make myself believe that He takes delight in engineering my problems just to make me miserable. Out of uncontrollable anger and unrelenting negative emotion, I demand God do something in my favor, rather than trust Him that He is already doing something far greater in me than I can ever ask or imagine. In the end, I expend far more energy fighting against God rather than allowing his wisdom, guidance, providence, and everlasting love do the fighting for me. 

 If we are patient, slow down, and admire Him, we might find the solution faster than we can fully reflect on the problem.

3. Believe God is Smart Enough - "...What no eye has seen, what no ear has heard, and what no human mind has conceived --- the things God has prepared for those who love him. These are things God has revealed to us by the Holy Spirit." Sounds too good to be true, right? It is, but it is also true - it's found in the Bible: 1 Corinthians 2:9-10. For context, Paul says even the rulers of the earth couldn't understand it. 

One evening, I met two friends of mine for coffee. The goal in meeting was to uplift one another through prayer, Biblical wisdom, and general anecdotes that relate to our prayer requests. 

One of these friends is the type of guy who has the gift of words. You know the type; their prayers are Hall of Fame conversations with God - fueled by intense emotion, commanding enunciation, and an exceptional string of vocabulary words that I would never think once to use in my prayers. You would think he rehearsed these prayers before showing up to our bi-monthly meetings. As we were nearing the end of our meeting, he shared that we need to "believe God is smart enough." On my 16-minute drive home, my friend's exhortative words rang loudest of all of the wisdom he shared.

Believe God is smart enough.

Even if you did use over 35% of our brain, any version of intelligence you can think of does not come close to what God has planned. But how often, when confronted by a problem, especially those enormous ones that don't seem to go away, do we only use ourselves and everyone else except God. Mostly, we get down on our knees by our bedside when we're at our wits end, down to our final straw, and spending our last $6. We don't use God and his infinite wisdom first. He is usually our last resort.

I am not comparing myself to God here, but it reminds me of when a child misbehaves because another student "made him do it." My typical response is, "Why didn't you come to me before it got worse? I could have helped you navigate through the problem without you getting into trouble!" Like any student who misbehaves in response to another student's behavior, we are always responsible for how we respond. If you agree that God is smarter than you and I, raise your hand. I'm sure you raised your hand as your staring at these words, because of course he is. But we don't. So often we don't.

We can approach the throne room of grace...and find grace to help us in times of need (Hebrews 4:16), or not go to God in the middle of trial. God lovingly gifts us with free will, so the bottom line is: Did you go to God? Or did we forget how intelligent and wise he is? 

***

Maybe you don't give God enough credit in your day because you only seek God when it's convenient, you admire the problem too much, you don't believe God is smart enough to solve your problems, or a combination of the three. Or maybe, "none of the above" is the reason you're forgetting that God made you, he loves you, and he knows you by name. 

Is Jesus asking you the same question? "Don't you know me...even after I have been among you such a long time?"

Your desire to pursue him does not weaken or strengthen his desire to pursue you. Unlike me not knowing the little ones' names when they say hello to me at school, God knows you and wants you to know your problems can be solved because He is smart enough. 

"If you seek Him, you will find Him." 

You will also find the answers you're looking for. 

Your Gethsemane vs. Your Agenda: Revisiting Your Priorities

 

Meet Diggs, a French Bulldog who is a bulldozer driven by a spatially unaware, uneducated, and unnecessarily aggressive brain. You may see a dog who loves his naps, but don't let his relaxed disposition fool you. Once you show any desire to play with him, he's like a little football player who has no off switch and will do anything to secure a loose football - like rolling back a wind-up car until you hear the loud clicking noise, then releasing it.

If those metaphors don't do the trick, imagine you have a squeaky red ball in your hand. Less than three feet in front of you is a drooling dog struggling to remain seated in an effort to get what he eagerly desires: to catch the elusive ball and show how inferior it is compared to him. If you were to put ADHD, obsessive compulsion, and squeaky ball idolatry into one animal, it would be Diggs. 

A story like the one above is only the tip of the iceberg full of stories that make our pup adorable, quirky, and unique from the rest of his canine counterparts. To say he has a personality is simplest way to describe him. His response to any toy would prompt anyone to reasonably ask, "What is going through Diggs' head?" The answer: "Toy" and "I will show I am better than toy." 

"Treat" and "Food" are alternatives, but we'll save these additional hobbies for another time.

The funniest, yet mildly most dangerous part about Diggs and his fascination for squeaky toys is how clumsy he is when the toy is dangling in front of him. He will jump, run over Stella, slide into walls, and even bump his head on coffee tables just for the pleasure and joy of claiming the toy as his own and proving he has control over it - even if it ends in an all-out tug of war competition. 

Unfortunately, what drives Diggs' ineptitude and unawareness is his overly aggressive, intense pace in which he lives his life. For example, his sister Frenchie, Stella, the smaller and feebler of the pair, will lovingly approach me in hopes for an encouraging "Who's a good girl," a pat on the head, a belly scratch, or any combination of the three. Once Diggs catches wind of this, he will go Bulldozer Mode into Stella to get an equal amount of attention, which is where I see his aggressive nature come out most.

Unfortunately, Diggs doesn't know when he's not careful, and he certainly doesn't know how to be more aware of his surroundings even if we gave him treats to help him. We can train him to sit and wait, which he does do while violently shaking like a K9 police dog being held back seconds before attacking a drug lord. But to tell Diggs to stop or calm down in order to master awareness would be like trying to teach a carrot to use self-defense before getting eaten. 

In fact, I have found that the only difference between training a carrot to use self-defense and Diggs to use manners through mindfulness is when I can promise him food 5-10 seconds later. Rarely, Diggs prefers his red ball over food, so food is a clear favorite no matter what. That being said, the only way he will voluntarily slow down the pace of his life is if food is in the deal.

At this point, you're probably thinking, "Duh. It's a dog. They don't think about mindfulness the way we do." I can't speak for you, but I often feel I am closer to Diggs' mindfulness level than I am to Gandhi. I am as impulsive as they come, especially when, right in front of my eyes, is something I really want to do or have. The moment a "toy" is dangling in front of me, I will do anything to grab a piece of it, even if I bump my head or plow into other people to get it. I lose all sense of what my priorities are in order to accomplish what I want or get what I am after. My wife calls it "fixation," and she couldn't be more accurate. When I become fixated on certain parts of my day, thoughts in my head, or the whereabouts of a misplaced item, everything else gets shoved to the backburner for a period of time; if longer than a period of time, my wife often has to dig me out of the mental and emotional mess I made through the unnecessary fixation grave I fall into. 

It would be unfair to put everyone under the same umbrella of impulsivity and mindless thinking, especially the type A personalities who can pridefully create a daily agenda and pound it out with perfection with little to no distractions derailing the schedule. But in a general sense, we live in a distraction-filled world more now than ever before. As Rich Villodas writes in his book, The Deeply Formed Life: Five Transformative Values to Root Us in the Way of Jesus, "Our world continues on, faster and busier, and we are reminded that our souls were not created for the kind of speed to which we have grown accustomed. Thus, we are a people who are out of rhythm, a people with too much to do and not enough time to do it." We may say we've nailed down the perfect routine, but the more we fill our days with things to do, the more other needs get pushed aside.

Unfortunately, and more often than not, our time with God is what takes the back seat; in fact, sometimes we even kick him out of the car altogether when we idolize other aspects of our agenda.

N.T. Wright introduces the paradox of living in union with God by writing, "It is only when we slow down our lives that we can catch up to God"* The more I ponder this concept, the more I identify with it. The rise of Social Media since the early 21st century (Facebook: 2004, Twitter: 2006, Instagram: 2010, Snapchat: 2011, VSCO: 2011, Discord: 2015, etc.) has sped up our lives. And it's not just social media and apps on 5G Wi-Fi that speed our lives up. On TV,  a shot that cuts to a new viewpoint on television changes every 7-8 seconds on average, according to a Salisbury University study. Even the way TV shows are filmed train our brains to expect our eyes to see things at a greater speed! However, the digital and technology age we live in is not the only aspect of our lives to blame - we organize our daily agenda to fit as much as we can within 24 hours; fast food restaurants, expedited shipping, and Instapot meals also aid us in our desire to go through the experience quicker so we can move on to the next item on our to-do list at the greater speeds than a gazelle being chased through an African Savanna. Downtime is seen as a waste of time, and resting from all of the hustle and bustle is seen as optional in an effort to be productive. In fact, I would go a step further and say the digital and technology companies and apps are as successful as they are because doing things more efficiently has always been a priority for the customer.

"What is efficient is not always effective," Bob Goff, author of his book Dream Big, writes. It's difficult to agree with Bob when the fast food, online shopping, and 5G Wi-Fi gives us every reason to believe our effectiveness has improved because these things make us efficient. However, Bob adds, "Love’s goal isn't ever efficiency; it's presence" - and if anything is eliminated from our agenda with the introduction of these hi-speed additions influencing our decisions, it's presence, because to be present, we have to slow down. How can you properly love the journey if you're constantly trying to find shortcuts? How can you build a proper relationship with those around you if your constantly cutting back on time in order to save it?

When Jesus was just a short time away from his death, he was "overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death" (Mark 14:34). What did he do? He went to be alone for an hour. An hour! My average prayer length is 3 minutes! Even when I'm journaling, meditating, or worshipping in song, I barely crack 20 minutes. If there were any example of slowing down in the Bible, this is it. Going away for an hour just to pray, which was the first thing Jesus said to his disciples before he went off to be alone with God (Mark 14:32), is quite impressive. 

If I were Jesus, I would be creating a to-do list, writing my last blog post, teaching one more writing lesson to my 5th graders, and cleaning the garage for my wife. Maybe I would finally delete all of the store promotion spam e-mails filling up my storage if I have time before the chief priests send people to arrest me. The point is, my go-to habit is to do something, knowing that efficiency is the motivation for doing it. I certainly would find it difficult to fit in 1 hour of prayer!

Most of my life, I have been told to be like Jesus and to read the Gospels to see how Jesus acted. If this is true, which it is**, then Jesus' moment in the garden of Gethsemane should resonate with us and teach us to do what he does to be in the presence of God. 

The world promises us the reward we get from speeding through it is efficiency. If Diggs slowed down and showed patience, he would be rewarded a treat or dinner at 6:25 instead of 6:27. The point is, Jesus knew slowing down his day to meet with God was a gamechanger, because he knew the reward that came with being with God was peace in the midst of chaos. "Abba Father, [Jesus] said. "Everything is possible  for you. Take this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will" (Mark 14:36). Jesus knew meeting with God was a priority. 

Jesus could have filled that hour with more teaching, healing, hanging out with mom and his other loved ones, and preparing for his death by traveling around and sightseeing. I'm sure no one would have blamed him. Instead he brought himself and his heart before God in the stillness of the garden. 

Do we have this time allotted in each part of our day, or do we fill it with more of our agenda? Do we buy into the lie the world tells us that efficiency is always most effective and to fill your life with activities that are done quickly so you can have spare time to do more? 

In Paul's letter to the church in Philippi, he talks about the reward for knowing Christ, and to him, it far outweighs anything on his agenda. "But whatever gains to me I now consider loss for the sake of Christ. What is more, I consider everything a loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them garbage, that I may gain Christ" (Philippians 3:7-8). In other words, Paul has concluded that he has falling so deeply in love with knowing God that he is willing to purge his agenda, his past idols, and anything that stands between him and God just to walk with him.

This is what Bob Goff and N.T. Wright are talking about. To effectively know Christ Jesus your Lord," efficiency is not effective. "Slowing down to catch up with God" is the most effective and rewarding thing you will ever do with your life. Paul didn't say he wants to fit God into his busy schedule; he considered everything in this world garbage compared to knowing Christ. Garbage!  Therefore, make walking with God a part of everything you do, and that includes building Gethsemane into your day. 

Through seeking your Gethsemane with God, you slow down, and through slowing down, you find yourself knowing your Creator in ways you never thought could be possible. 

As a child, my dad referenced Psalm 46:10-11 a lot, and it is the perfect fit to close out:

"'...Be still, and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth.'

The Lord Almighty is with us;

the God of Jacob is our fortress."

Are you with him?

*Taken from Rich Villodas' book The Deeply Formed Life: Five Transformative Values to Root Us in the Way of Jesus, pg. 7, chapter 1.

**In John 14:12-14, Jesus told Phillip that those who believe in him will do what he has been doing; in Luke 6:46-49, Jesus compares us to a wise builder if we hear his words and do what he says but he also compares us to a foolish builder if we don't listen to his words and do what he says; in James 1:22-25 we are told if we don't listen to the Word and do what it says, it's as if we look in the mirror and forget our appearance when we leave.

I Can't Stand This: A Literal And Figurative Lesson on Excuses

 

Nestled in the heart of a Newaygo, Michigan, a small town of 2,500 people – if you’re being generous – is Kimball Lake, which is one of four bodies of water connected by underwhelming straits that allow residents to take their jet skis, small boats, canoes, and kayaks to all of the lakes in one go. The views of each lake are immaculate and memorable no matter what your adventures include and mode of transportation to get to each lake is.

Each summer, I try to take advantage of my time off from teaching 5^th grade to experience lake life at my parents Cottage, which sits merely 30 yards from where the subtle Kimball Lake waves kiss the shore. I always look forward to jet skiing, tubing, kayaking, and sitting in the boat, thinking about how blessed I am to experience another summer of cottage life.

Unfortunately, every godsend comes with a catch, a caveat. A buzzkill.

Water skiing: an activity every loves and can do almost effortlessly.

Except me.

James commands, “Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up,” and I have yet to identify a more humbling and spiteful moment in my three and a half decades of existence than water skiing. Humble myself? Water skiing has me covered free of charge, and there’s no lifting me up. Absolutely not. I’ve tried to get lifted up. I’ve waited for God to lift me up. I’ve waited for the boat to lift me up. I have tried telling God I believe in him and I believe in myself too. Maybe that’s the problem; God and I are both trying to lift me up like two men trying to lift a couch but counting at different times. Do you got me or do I get me this time?

Every time I’ve been humbled and try to get up again post-humble stage, God has not lifted me up. Am I angry at God? No. I’m angry at physics, gravity, and anything to do with getting dragged across the lake by a rope in shoes 10x your size shooting out from behind your heel bone and in front of your five toes.

I have spent numerous summers on Kimball lake, not only trying to get my entire body up on the water, but also watching every age and generation, from 8 years old to 61 years old, get up on one ski, two skis, backwards, forwards, with one hand and with two. I have watched nearly every cousin pull themselves up with perfect form in under three tries, multiple uncles drop one ski into the water with ease in the middle of the first lap around the lake, and every sibling transition from getting up to slaloming in and out of the wake like they’re some kind of Olympic downhill snow skiing champ. My family could raise a one-legged squirrel with epilepsy to get up on two skis before I could. As I write this, they’re probably raising that squirrel at this very moment.

Since 2018, I have felt the self-induced pressure to get up on the skis like everyone else. This pressure I feel does not come from my parents, siblings, or even the squirrel, but from me alone. Imagine this scenario: You just spent 45 minutes getting your arms ripped out of their sockets by a boat pulling the rope responsible for your amateur amputation, and once that nightmare is over, you spend the remainder of the day overhearing countless friends, family, and strangers in your vicinity talking about “dropping a ski,” “creating a larger spray,” and “jumping through a flaming circus ring.” Seriously? We’re all moving on to skiing with two feet on one SKI? Don’t mind me, I’m still trying to GET UP. Waiting on the second half of that “Humble before the Lord” verse. When do you plan on lifting me up? Because I’m used to the humbling part now.

From the front of the boat, I would hear the same pep talk from my dad and mom, listing off how to prepare for the initial pull out of the water:

“#1. Make sure the skis are shoulder-width apart.

#2. Act like you’re sitting in the water, but don’t squat too low.

#3. Let the boat pull you up

#4. Straighten your back and bend your arms just enough so it doesn’t pull you forward.

#5. Don’t overthink it.”

“Ok!” I shout back, which translates in my head to, “Right, go through every body part and make sure everything is perfect…oh, and make sure you also don’t overthink it.” Any activity that ends with ‘Don’t overthink this,’ does not deserve to be called an activity.

Am I the only one who thinks the phrase “Don’t overthink it” is synonymous with “Now I’m going to overthink it?”

It’s like when a sign says, “Don’t feed the pigeons human food.”

Now someone is going to feed their strawberry Pop Tart to the pigeons, and they’re all going to die.

The moment I’m told, “Don’t overthink it,” is the exact same moment I do overthink it because now I’m just overthinking overthinking; and when you start overthinking overthinking, you’ve just out-thought yourself into disqualification.

The lose-lose scenario becomes a reality when no matter how you behave in the water, the result is the same. The moment I sit back, relax, and not feed the pigeon by overthinking, it comes after me and attacks me. But if I do overthink it, I get arrested for trying to feed the pigeon. And by arrested, I mean pounded into the water like a rag doll who just pinched King Kong in the heinie one last time.  

How do people think this is fun? How do I not overthink when there are twelve different rules on how to get up alone? If I’m too relaxed, I’m a puppet whose strings are tangled up from being thrown into the box for the attic. If I try to focus too hard, my arms fall off of me like a loose tooth being ripped out from a slammed door and a piece of string. Loose tooth or puppet strings? Either way, I’m not ready for the humiliation.

I’ve also seen it from the perspective of knowing thyself and not even trying at all. From the perspective of an observer, watching others successfully get up, it’s even worse. I watch each cousin, uncle, mom, dad, sibling, and epileptic squirrel get up, riding the waves like a bunch of circus clowns walking on water. Jealousy naturally creeps into the brain, and his loud neighbor, Comparison, automatically invites himself with his own IKEA furniture – not just his bed; furniture for each room.

To make matters worse, you have all the time in the world to let the comparison of “I can’t get up but everyone else can” eat at you until your depressed on a sunny, 85-degree-and-0%-humidity kind of day. Why? Because from the moment they successfully get up on skis to the moment they voluntarily let go of the rope to end their successful routine on the water, all the observers get to watch is a skier circling the lake five times – there’s nothing unpredictable about it: no barrel rolls, front flips, flaming circus rings to jump through, or ramps set up to collect gold coins. Nothing to distract me from the painful reminder that I can’t and they can.

Maybe it’s just my ADHD speaking, but it gets boring real fast watching someone ride around on skis without any action othe    r than the occasional spray. At a minimum, the boat driver should spontaneously unleash a swarm of locusts from the back of the boat to see if the skier can maintain their poise and balance after getting struck two to 300 times. At least we’d get a show out of it.

Instead, I get to spend five to 10 minutes watching someone get predictably pulled around in repetitive circles by a boat, which in my opinion is less fun than watching the 3D polychromatic Pipes screensaver on a ’93 Dell Optiplex MXV.

The 3D Pipes screensaver from Windows ’95 ©screensaversplanet.com

Despite where my behind is sitting – comfortably in a Mastercraft chair letting my dry self watch others ski or reclining in an invisible chair in the water waiting wet and impatiently for the boat to lurch me above the water like Jesus walking on it, I literally and figuratively cannot stand the entire ordeal.

Though I heavily lean towards the hate side of the relationship, there is a hint of love for water skiing – for instance, when Dad does it, it is mesmerizing watching the waves spray when he makes a sharp turn back toward the wake. And when I manage five seconds standing up which is, as the pros put it, “the hardest part is over,” it does feel like quite an accomplishment.

Comparatively, life is often like water skiing; no matter where your sitting, it can be hard to face it when the ongoing narrative is that you’re only going to fall again and again. Meanwhile, you watch everyone around standing tall, as wave after wave does nothing to reroute you. Suddenly, everyone’s successes make you feel so small.

One thing I’ve noticed about water skiing through all of the repetitive failing is how powerful the failure is when that is all I focus on. It drains you. Physically, mentally, emotionally, you feel attacked. Can anyone fault me when I hilariously crash into the water with the grace of fly colliding with the windshield of a moving car? Failure never looked so explosive.

When I did fail, it was because I did not put to practice what I was taught. To become good at water skiing, it takes correct mechanics; to nail down the mechanics, you have to know what they are, and to know the mechanics, you have to be willing to be instructed on them. When I slammed into the water head first, or the boat dragged me through it, it didn’t matter how badly I wanted to get up. I had to follow the mechanics to a T. I had to execute the steps exactly the way they were given to me. When I fell hardest was when I didn’t believe I could execute the mechanics or was not attentive to what they were to begin with.

I had the same issue that Moses had when God hand-picked him to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. Yet, we consider him when of the greatest leaders of all time. Look at Exodus 3:11-4:14:

1.    1. Moses insults his importance by asking God why he is being chosen for such an enormous task (Exodus 3:11)

2.    2. God promises he will guide him – teach him the proper mechanics (Exodus 3:12)

3.    3. Moses questions whether people will actually believe or listen to him (Exodus 4:1)

4.    4. God demonstrates his own power and ability to guide the Israelites out of Egypt using Moses as his middleman (Exodus 4:2-9)

5.    5. Moses blames his own shortcomings and lack of speaking properly as a reason to not accept God’s invitation (Exodus 4:10)

6.    6. God once again reminds Moses of who he is and how he will work alongside Moses so he will know what to do (Exodus 4:11-12)

7.    7. Moses refuses to see the opportunity for what it is and begs God to send someone else (Exodus 4:13)

8.    8. God tells Moses he will send extra help through Aaron so Moses feels more comfortable with the challenge and opportunity God placed in front of him (Exodus 4:14-17)

Time and again, Moses throws excuses to God and God simply responds with resources and solutions that make the opportunity sweeter.

Often, I wasted my time out on the water with the same mindset Moses had. I would complain, argue, and pout because I couldn’t get up on the skis. I still can’t, but the point remains. Yes, I might fall flat on my face or I might get up on the skis and taste success after years of falling flat on my face. I could write 5+ paragraphs of why I hate water skiing and even watching it. I could say, “It’s not for me,” or “send someone else out on the water.” I could throw a tantrum on the water, blame it on God and my life being cursed, or berate myself for not doing something so “simple.” But they wouldn’t get me up on the skis – in fact, it would only distract me from executing each step successfully so I do eventually get up for longer than 8 seconds.

I could trust the person teaching me the mechanics, guiding me through the steps, and focusing on the success and lessons learned that could come of my skiing endeavor instead of filling my head with excuses to not jump in the water and give it another shot.

After God’s last attempt to convince Moses to go save the Israelites, promising him Aaron and the magic staff, Exodus 4:18 tells us “Moses went back to Jethro his father-in-law and said to him, ‘Let me return to my own people in Egypt to see if any of them are alive.’” In other words, let me go do what God is commanding of me. I’d like to believe that if Moses would have just trusted God in the first place, he would not have wasted so much time building up the courage to go.

Like trusting the mechanics of water skiing passed down to me, I believe trusting God can do us a lot of good and cut out the endless conversations filled with excuses and made up reasons to not follow through with God’s plan. Overthinking the mechanics often got me in trouble, and so did Moses’.

Hearing from God is not that complicated once you get out of your own way, and when you do hear from him, just do what he wants you to do instead of making excuses.

Otherwise, he might volunteer an epileptic squirrel to do what you could.