A word of warning: This blog entry is not really “PC”. If the word “retarded” offends you, go ahead and skip this read.

A future President is praised for his heroism. His greatness. A man, greatly unknown to the world until a few short weeks ago, wins 8 golds at the Summer Olympics. Greatness. A chef, interviewed by Jay Leno a few nights ago, speaks of meeting the Queen of England and being voted the “best chef in England” for 12 consecutive years. Greatness. It seems that everywhere I look, people are succeeding with their ambitions. Forget the countless others that fall short. This is a time for greatness. It’s like it is wired into our brains - “do something with your life”. This “something” ominously hovers and lingers in our minds and hearts, probing and pushing us like an older brother sitting on his sibling and mercilessly tapping him on the head. We’re not sure what it looks like. As we look around, this “greatness” takes on many different forms for different people. Some are swimmers. Some are chefs. Some aspire to be, arguably, the most powerful individuals on the planet. And then there are people like us.

Just a few days ago I was looking at a picture that was taken over 15 years ago. It was a picture of a blond, skinny 9 year old with two elderly people. The boy was me. The elderly folks were my great-grandparents. I lay on my bed, looking at this picture, captivated by the deep mystery of age, generations, death, and, oddly enough, greatness. You see, I couldn’t remember my great-grandfather’s name. Half of me was embarrassed, the other half, mystified. How could I not know his name? Of course I know his name. It’s…. It’s… um. Darn. What is it? I only remember calling him “Grand-daddy”.

Unrecognizable tears started streaming down my cheeks. What they meant, I’m not sure. Where they came from was uncertain. What I did know in that moment was that they were tears of grief. I wasn’t grieving the death of my great-grandparents, nor my own forgetfulness… I guess I was grieving the blur of it all. The blur that we refer to as a “lifetime”. Many of us are given but a brief moment in our lives to do something great. In reality, few are given as many years as my great-grandparents had. And yet here I sit, and I can’t remember his name, much less recite to you the many things he did with his life. They came, they went, and somehow, they vanished. Like a single bone in a mass grave, the accomplishments and history of one man have been thrown in with the myriad of others before him and among him.

Finally the tears begin to make sense to me. Slowly the image becomes less and less blurry, like those Magic Eye pattern pictures that display a 3-D image when you look at them a certain way. I realize now that I’m grieving because I feel like I don’t have enough time.

Time for what? Greatness? Time to do something that I’ll be remembered by? Time to become the man I think I ought to be? Time to “figure things out”?

Look around us. People are dying. I see a family dealing with an extremely difficult situation where the man of the house is steadily approaching an “untimely” death. I remember Danny Scianna, a boy who I worked with in AWANA at my church, who died at the age of 11. I hear of car accidents, diseases, paralyzing injuries, and the list goes on… and I just can’t believe that we’re surrounded by all of this, and yet we still value the “greatness” that we see on TV. Something tells me we’re really quite confused, jaded, and tainted by our society. There’s something that we just don’t understand in Jesus’ exhortations.

Even in the church today, we’re so concerned with being “good Christians”. I grew up in a church that glorifies “Christian greatness”, whatever that is. I guess it’s someone who makes the most godly decisions, has the most wisdom, makes the fewest life-altering mistakes, can recite the most scripture, and is generally seen as a “beacon” of godliness and truth. We idolize people for this. Heck, I think many of us would dip ourselves in a smelly pile of shit if we thought the people in our church would view it as a humble and godly act. We’re so eager to be seen as godly. We ache to win the Oscar for best performance, happily appeasing the adoring audience. I’m not questioning the genuineness behind our motives. I think we really want to be genuine and real in our godliness, I do. But I think we have the wrong idea of what makes someone godly. We seem to rate spiritual maturity as we rate intelligence. There are some that are intellectually retarded, and then there are those of us that are “spiritually retarded”, meaning we don’t carry our Bible’s everywhere, don’t stand up in church to talk about how powerfully God worked in our life this week, and aren’t usually found raising our hands during worship time. Heck, most of the time we find it pretty hard to worship alongside other believers.

Frankly, I decided years ago that I wanted to become more “retarded” when it came to spiritual matters. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like I have met so many mentally disabled people (intellectually speaking) that have such a bigger heart than the countless “intelligent” people I’ve come across. Why is it that I can get the approval of a retarded person, with a hug to boot, and yet I somehow value the approval of a more intelligent person more? Is life about intelligence? Should we not care more about loving one another than seeking our own “greatness” and widespread acknowledgment?

I firmly believe that there will be a great many mentally handicapped people in Heaven. I don’t think they’ll be made to be more like us. I think they’ll just become more like God intended them to be, without sin. Perfect. NOT necessarily more like us. Maybe they’ll even look the same (not exactly something we view as “perfection” in our society). Maybe they’ll think and talk the same (definitely not something we see much value in). One thing that I think will likely be close to the same, though, is their heart. I believe, as I think Randy Alcorn has also mentioned, that they may even be given great responsibilities in Heaven. I believe they will be greatly rewarded for their compassion, acceptance, and love. While it will be their faith that saves them, their rewards in these other areas will surely be in no short supply. I believe that, even in this life, we have much we can learn from them.

I don’t want “greatness” like we think of it. I don’t want to be known for my intelligence, nor my godliness. I don’t want to be the man that feels pressured to deliver a powerful sermon or exemplify “godliness” out of my own selfish ambition. I’d rather be retarded. I’d even rather be seen as “spiritually retarded” (stunted, needy, whatever). I’d rather be deeply humbled by my own realization that I’m a step below the cut, and yet have greater genuineness and a heart that truly needs God and depends upon His life-giving grace. I don’t want to give love and grace to people because I know I ought to. I want to give love and grace naturally and genuinely, and only as a result of God’s direct and intimate involvement in my heart. If my response ever be a godly one, let it be from God. If I ever give a wise reply or godly insight, let it be from God. Everything else, including everything I write in my blog, we can just as soon pass off for the “ramblings of a retarded guy” and we can all move on.

I feel that it’s only when we let our desires for “greatness” fade that we’ll truly allow God to begin working in the deepest, darkest corners of our hearts. All I really care about is giving 100% of me to God. I think it’ll cost me something. I think it’ll cost a lot, actually. Perhaps everything. Perhaps it’ll require me to become more retarded and lose the good opinions and praises from spiritual “elites”. Whatever be the cost, “greatness” included, let it be so. I have no problem casting these idols into the fire so that I may gain a deeper understanding of God’s heart.*

-I was listening to Chris Rice’s song, “Power of a Moment” (a good one), but now I think I’m gonna listen to those heathen Black Eyed Peas singing “Let’s Get Retarded”.

-On a lighter note, though keeping with the current theme, I found this video online tonight (I think I saw it years ago) and thought it was so uplifting and encouraging (and funny!) that I can’t help but share it. Enjoy!~ Please comment if you have thoughts or insights on anything!!!

 National Anthem Fenway Park

It was Disability Awareness day and the folks at Fenway did a lot of great things for kids with challenges..here is one who sang and when he got nervous the Fenway Faithful helped him out