The truth doesn’t change, as much as we might hope that it would. But stories change all the time. Truth is absolute but the story is uniquely crafted and every human being has one. So when something concrete collides with something that vacillates it’s never a proper mix. And I’m learning that I still expect truth and story to combine and when it doesn’t, I’m disappointed.

All around the United States today, students of all sorts gathered around school flagpoles to pray. They stood there singing more loudly than I expected and prayed aloud when called upon do so. These are the stories colliding with truth and these stories have some severe imperfections. Probably the chiefest of all the imperfect was the faculty who joined the circle to pray. I was there with my baggage along with several other teachers and administrators who have years of experience trying to bend the truth of Christian faith to our will. I’m a story complete with lies, hedonism and conceit. If I didn’t know better I’d say standing around the flagpole makes me, my colleagues and the students the world’s greatest contingent of hypocrites. But I know better.

What I know is that droves of students, faculty and staff weren’t in those circles all over the nation and there’s a few reasons why. My own severely mired past brings me to a place of humble curiosity that makes me wonder, “Why aren’t more people around this pole praying for families, school, government, troops, etc.?” My speculations lead me to the “New Kid on the Block” syndrome. You know. A new kid shows up and everybody thinks that he thinks he’s better than everyone else. “He doesn’t dress act like us. Who does he think he is?” But I’m probably being juvenile. If I were outside the circle, which I’ve been on many occasions, I’d think, “There’s no way I belong with those people…with THOSE people…with THOSE people. Echo.

I couldn’t help but think of the kids on the outside of the circle  as I prayed for the ones who were part of it. At the heart of my journey of Faith was a crossroads at which I had to separate the humanness of humans from the truth. Truth is easy to grasp because it bears down pretty hard. I struggle with being the truth and that’s why my story doesn’t always mix well with it. One thing I know, however, is that if I’m brave enough to mix my story with truth, one of the two is bound to change. My money is on the story.

Ignorant talk is that type of speak that’s leaves us wondering who’s more embarrassed, the speaker or those who are listening to him/her. Many a great saying addresses foolishness and how it can be avoided by simply keeping one’s mouth shut. I’m learning continuously that there is a time to think, a time to act and a time to say and the prior two usually prove more valuable than the latter.

A woman named Emma Goldman, not exactly an American heroine in her day, said, “The most violent element in society is ignorance.” If Goldman was onto something, it was that there is something or some things that I don’t understand and, dare I say, am oblivious to. Furthermore, my ignorance coupled with a lack of desire for knowledge is a great threat to society. And when I say “I” please believe that I mean you too :-). Take communication and problem solving. All verbal exchanges require Encoding and Decoding, Sender of the message and Receiver of the message. But simple communication theory says that invariably, noise interrupts communication. I mean, when a guy like Joseph Kony of Uganda forces children (Invisible Children) to take up arms for his cause, ensuring their demise and possible death, it’s clear that noise has interrupted communication. Kony needs something but is ignorant of what the something is. He once had  a need, perhaps a longing to see a certain reality materialize in his country but it never happened and now he’s a monster.

Ignorance results in foolishness but “…by doing good, you should silence the ignorant talk of foolish men” (I Peter 2:15). I’m learning that ignorance is pervasive, flooding our culture through the conduits of distraction, apathy and self-absorption. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, ““Nothing in the world is more dangerous than sincere ignorance and conscientious stupidity.” There is a tenacity that I long for to combat the foolishness and I am convinced it has little to do with running off at the mouth. Being an enemy combatant toward ignorance and its yield requires a commitment to the development of my own spiritual core and the actions that naturally flow out of that core.

Complaining about evil has always been en vogue while doing the good to silence foolishness has proven to be a sporadic ebb and flow. And I sympathize with complainers because I am one. Basketball, even in high school, has produced an egotistical athlete complete with a sense of entitlement and a host of other harmful traits. But it’s only a sliver of the “foolish talk” that ripples throughout a world ripe for some grand good deeds.

If I’m honest about how God used life and basketball to train my perspective in this world I’d have to admit that he made me a loser. Basketball is and was one of those proverbial microcosms that offered me a glimpse of life’s harsh reality…that losing is common.

During the 8-year period from High School freshman to College senior I only managed significant playing time two of the 8 seasons. Of the three years I spent trying to play professionally overseas, not one was spent earning a living through basketball.

If I widen the lens and focus on more general loser-like episodes in life I can recall my first year of school as a “Pupil With Transportation (PWT)” in 1984. When I began being bussed from the inner-city to a school in a suburb more than 1.5 hours from my apartment, I realized I was smart for an inner city kid but I wasn’t suburban smart. Take that same PWT situation multiply it by a move to a brand new school district at the start of high school five years later and you have another loser-like scenario. A new high school as an incoming freshman from another city meant I was not only a 5’7″, 105 lb. scrub; I was all of that and a foreigner.

By now, there’s sympathy brewing but the truth is that God was at the heart of my lessons learned as a student, citizen and athlete. In 1998 I got involved in the church I had been attending for about three years up to that point and because I lacked social capital, I was the loser trying to blend in, with limited success, at an established institution. I recall how the process of meeting people and gaining trust was painstaking. I also remember learning the language of that environment and at times being hesitant to share my true personality with people because of fear that I wouldn’t be understood.

School, basketball, social/religious institutions all showed me that by the world’s standards I am a loser. I’d be pretentious to suggest I’ve never been hated, rebuked, dubbed a self-righteous pretender, etc.  But I credit the Lord Jesus Christ with playing my 6ixthman by helping me to learn in each life complication. I’m only half-joking when I say I was a Loser. I really was…to certain people at various points in time but consider this analogy. Everyday I blog to an undisclosed audience. I don’t know who’s reading. But I’m not so naive as to think my experiences aren’t shared with others. I write because I’m just like everyone else, in need of a 6ixthman to teach me how to live beyond “Loser” experiences and impact my world.

I’ve only been to a handful of castles in my short life, an even smaller number if you don’t count Disneyland and Medieval Times.  But when I look back at my photos  from the England and South Wales Tour in 2008, one thing is apparent. The reigning monarch was supposed to be protected while inside.

If the castle is a metaphor, the application of the parallel is clear for my own life. Who have I been trying to keep out and what defenses have I mobilized as a garrison against invaders? Just this week I used an assumption as an opportunity to embarrass someone. Whether I was right or wrong about the facts in the discussion, I still used my position as a weapon. I got into a debate with two individuals and didn’t listen to their side of the story because it could mean that I’m wrong. So I perched my archers, so-to-speak, on the towers and let on the onslaught.

At 8:29 on a Saturday morning I’m writing this and I can feel the castle walls being constructed and the moat filled with beasts that devour trespassers. That’s about as literary as I’ll get. But seriously, I can see how I plan to DEFEND on a daily basis. It’s sometimes as if I now hold all the cards so I’ll not tolerate inferior ideas. That’s a difficult admission but I can see this mentality regardless of whether or not it’s expressed.

As a basketball player I developed resentment for doubters and took the disdain a step further. I turned the doubters into enemies in my mind because it was so painful when people didn’t believe in my talents. I never realized until recently that I’ve carried that burden into my 30s. I’m realizing that there is really nothing I need to prove to anyone anymore. I think I get it. Life doesn’t have to be lived with an intent to defend. The world is fickle. The highlight of my week was making amends with the two people I berated. I was humbled when one of them asked me repeatedly for forgiveness. How ironic. It was my defensiveness that turned the conversation on end. Instead of planning to defend myself, today I’ll pray that I can offer myself as an example of a person seeking to serve where he’s called. Lower the drawbridge.