Advanced Technique

I was smart enough to pull off the road when my cellphone rang.  I remember that I pulled off into the parking lot of a bowling alley.  It’s strange the things that I remember.

I had heard my phone ring and quickly glanced at the screen to see that it was my manager calling.  I had been expecting a phone call from him and spark of anxious excitement flashed in my chest.  He wouldn’t be calling if he didn’t have the news I was waiting for.

I was fresh off a good win against a strong opponent.  The win had garnered me a little attention.  The production I’d fought for was standing up another event and they wanted me to fight for them again.  I was quick to agree—I liked the event and the way I was treated—so my manager had started talking with the matchmaker.  I assumed this call was the fruit of those discussions.

And I was right.

He gave me a name I didn’t recognize, then gave me the dollar amount of the prize money involved.  The money was enticing and I loved the thought of fighting again for the show with such a high production value.  But I had one more hurdle to clear.  I told my manager that I had to get approval from my coaches.

I quickly hung up, and from that same parking lot, dialed the number for one of my coaches.  He answered quickly and I told him that we had an offer (I was too excited to remember that he was good friends with my manager and had probably already talked to him).  I presented him with the name of my potential opponent and the amount of money involved.

“No,” he said.

My skin did this funny flush as my brain stuttered at the denial.  I think my ego may have surfaced a little—a lot.  I hated the idea of turning down fights.  I hated the idea of turning down money.  I had the reputation for being the sort of guy who accepted challenges with the toughest opponents possible and not retreating.  I hated the idea of turning down a fight.

“He’s a great wrestler,” my coach told me.

I knew that wrestling was the weakest part of my game.  My standup had improved drastically, and my ground game had long been a strength.  My coaches had been working very intentionally on my wrestling skills and I felt like I had come a long way.  I had been putting in serious work.

“So, he’s a good wrestler,” I responded, “but we’ve got a lot of time to work on my wrestling.  I can put in a hard training camp and get ready for this one.”

“I didn’t say he was a good wrestler,” came the reply.  “I said he was a great wrestler.  The answer is no.  You’re not ready for him.  Not yet.”

I hate being told no, probably because I so seldom understand it.  I see something I want—something, even, I might think I need.  I look across the horizon of my life and my eyes settle onto the that destination—that win, that accomplishment, that object, that relationship, that purpose.  I see it and I know that it’s where I’m supposed to be.  I’m not supposed to be here.  I’m supposed to be there.

Life would be so much better if I were there.

I start moving toward it.  I move toward it because it’s where I’m supposed to be.  It’s a better place than where I am now.  I begin to imagine the joy of being there as opposed to being here.  It looks amazing over there.  It looks like the place where I can be fulfilled.  Of course, it’s where I want to be.  That’s why I’m moving toward it.

But then something gets in my way.

Something stops me.  Something slows me down.  There’s an active barrier directly in my path.  I would call it a challenge, but challenges are things to overcome.  I can’t overcome this.  I’m not strong enough.  I’m not fast enough.  I’m not smart enough.  I don’t know how to get beyond this blockade to that destination see on the other side.

All I know is that something is standing between where I am and where I’m supposed to be.

I’m the kind of guy who believes in a God who is actively involved in the very details of my life.  I know He could take this obstacle away from me if He chose to do so—he could evaporate it with a word.  But it’s still here.  If it’s still here that must mean He wants it to be here.  I don’t have enough insight to know if God is placing this barrier in my path or if He’s just letting it be there.  I do know that I don’t want it there.  It’s in my way and I’d rather be on the other side where that destination I crave lives.

I understand God has a propensity for redirection.  He’s known to actively interfere with the plans of His people.

They went through the region of Phrygia and Galatia and were prevented by the Holy Spirit from speaking the message in Asia.  (Acts 16:6) 

Moments like these might be easier if my desired destination was unattainable.  If it was so far out of reach that I knew I couldn’t reach it—if I knew that I couldn’t get there, no matter how hard I tried—then I could simply let it go.  It would be easy to give up and walk away knowing there was nothing I could have done.  I wouldn’t learn much from that, but at least it would be easy.

I was looking in the mirror with my hands up, elbows tight to my side, practicing footwork—again.  Step and slide to the right, step and slight to the right, step and slide to the right…over and over again until I got to the end of the mirrors.  Then it was step and slide to the left, step and slide to the left, step and slide to the left…over and over again until I got to the other end of the mirrors.  Then I would do it some more, over and over again.

The thing about mirrors is that they are very reflective—that’s what they’re made for.  I could see everything that was happening behind me and I could see that everyone else was doing something different.  They were sparring while I was step-and-sliding in the mirror.

My coach had put me here intentionally.  His purpose was to change my fighting stance and he needed me to drill my footwork until it became automatic.  He’d planted me in front of the mirror and directed me to keep working my lateral movement.  I’d been doing this for over an hour and it was getting boring.

In that mirror I could see everyone else behind me sparring.  They were trading punches and kicks and moving around like fighters while I stared at myself in the mirror.  I paused for a moment to watch, knowing that I could hang with any of the fighters on the mat.  Not one of them was better than me.  I really wanted to put on my gloves and get some rounds.

He caught me looking and noticed that I had stopped.

Without a word he moved over to me and physically corrected a few details about my stance.  With a slight shove he sent me back on my way—step and slide, step and slide, step and slide.  He knew I wanted to get in with the sparring group.  He could see the look in my eye in the mirrors that I was facing.  But we were making some significant changes and I needed repetition.

There was a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth because he obviously knew how badly I wanted to get in for live rounds.  But it wasn’t time.

He turned to walk away with a whisper, “not yet.”

The difficult destinations are the ones I think I can achieve.  When I get just a little bit close I taste the flavor of that victory, and I want to taste it more.  I get an idea of what it might feel like to live on the other side of that destination I have decided I desire.  I want to get past, around, or through the active barriers that God has placed in my path.

But I am missing the purpose of the barriers.

I find myself bargaining with God, doing my best to turn our relationship into a transaction.  I assure God that, if he removes this obstacle and gives me what I want, I will use it intentionally to His glory.  Obviously, I should be using everything to His glory, but I’ll do it twice as much if I can get this one thing.  I don’t think that has ever worked for me.

Stripped of my ability to bargain with God, I turn instead to proving my adequacy to God.  If I can show Him how serious I am, or how perfect I can be, then maybe he’ll will give me what I want.  I throw myself at the barriers, assaulting them as if they were some sort of enemy to be vanquished.  I strive to show my warrior spirit.  I attack them with every resource at my disposal—and yet they still don’t move.

You ask and don't receive because you ask with wrong motives, so that you may spend it on your evil desires. (James 4:3) 

I complain to God, I whine to God, I call God obscene names, angry for the fact that I can see the thing I want so badly and yet it remains just out of my reach.  I tantrum like a petulant child and begin to resent the obstacle and the God who won’t remove it.  I find myself growing bitter and vacillating between desperation and depression. 

But God is still saying, “not yet.”

It wasn’t the first time it had happened to me and I couldn’t imagine it would be the last.  I was getting a little bit warmed up before class when I was approached by the young white belt holding his phone.

“Professor,” he asked and he extended the phone toward me, “I found this technique on the internet.  I thought it was really interesting.  Do you think you could show me how to do this?”

Out of politeness I watched the video.  It was good technique that I actually like, but it was complicated technique beyond this young student’s ability to perform.  This was advanced technique and he was a beginner student.  I knew what he was capable of and he was not capable of this.  I knew this because I knew him.

“You’re not ready for this one,” I smiled gently.  “Not yet.”

If I force myself to slow down and take a deep, spiritual breath, I might be in danger of realizing that God is keeping a dream or desire out of my reach, not to torment me, to make me prove myself, or to force me into negotiations.  God doesn’t need anything from me, knows everything about me, and knows I need everything from Him.  That a poor posture for me to start negotiations from.

There’s something happening that is beyond my comprehension.

I have no ability to see what’s ahead, but, oddly enough, there are times when I glance into the past gives me a window into the future.  I can remember that God is always faithful and has never failed me, as many times as I have failed Him.  I remember that my vision is short-sighted and flawed.  I don’t have the full picture.  I never do.

Remember the wonderful works He has done, His wonders, and the judgments He has pronounced (Psalms 105:5) 

With some insight, I might realize that God previously kept my desires out of my reach because I wasn’t ready for them yet.  I had work to do.  If He had given them to me at that moment, I would not have had the strength, skill, or technique to hold on to them.  I needed to do some honing and some growing before I was ready to hold on to them.

And, sometimes, it was the destination I desired that needed to change.  I might have been fighting the wrong battles or pushing toward the wrong place.  But there have been many other times when that destination—that desire—needed to be reworked before I arrived.  It wasn’t ready for me any more than I was ready for it.

During these times when I am contending with these obstacles, I can know that I am being prepared for victory.  I’m not in the fight that I want to be in, but I am in the fight that is preparing me for the tougher fight I don’t know about yet.  Possibly, maybe, it’s like the spiritual form of a video game—I can’t fight the big boss until I fight the smaller bosses.  God is using these barriers and obstacles to develop my skills so that I know what to do with the victory once it arrives.  His efforts will make me worthy of the win.

(Habakkuk 2:3)  For the vision is yet for the appointed time; it testifies about the end and will not lie. Though it delays, wait for it, since it will certainly come and not be late.

God has a whole vision that I can’t see.  I have a part vision that is focused on a singular destination—it fills my eyes entirely.  I can’t see anything else.  But it’s not time for me to be there yet.

That’s advanced technique.  I’m not ready for it.  Maybe it’s not ready for me.

(Matthew 7:11)  If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father in heaven give good things to those who ask Him!

God’s timing is far different than mine.  Not only will he give me the desires of my heart, but He’ll use the journey on the way there to give me whole new perspectives, possibly even better desires.  He’ll grow me into a version of myself that can handle the blessings He rains down on me.

He’s going to give me what I desire (what I think I desire), but He’s going to give it to me when the time is right.  I don’t know when that time is going to be.  God’s timing is always different than mine.  God’s timing is always better than mine.

Dear friends, don't let this one thing escape you: With the Lord one day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years like one day.  The Lord does not delay His promise, as some understand delay, but is patient with you, not wanting any to perish but all to come to repentance. (2 Peter 3:8-9)