Instantly chop my hair off? Sure! Take a Nazirite vow? Sounds like fun! Compete in a mud run? Sign me up! Take a hip-hop class with professional dancers while you have no training? Doin’ it!
My friends roll their eyes when I share my latest harebrained commitment. Everyone knows I’m going to regret these spontaneous decisions, but I don’t care. When Life calls me out to the proverbial dance floor, it’s as if I have to bust out my windmill head-spin and pop up with the ever-flagrant, You Got Served! Maybe it’s the underdog in me. Maybe it’s stupidity. All I know is no matter what, I have to rise to the occasion.
I’m finishing the book and instead of the elation which comes from completion, there’s a disconcerting feeling I call conviction. I can’t explain it–it’s not like a voice or a crop circle that mysteriously appears as a sign. It’s something beyond me. Life is challenging me to live biblically. It’s straight-up krumping in my face and calling me out to live a life worthy of the gospel (or at least the title of Christian).
I mean, this shouldn’t be hard, right? I’ve read the bible cover-to-cover three times. I’ve hugged orphans in Mexico and shared Jesus in Japan. I’ve given money away to homeless people with witty signs and gave a sandwich to the crazy cat-lady from Venice beach. So what can I learn from the Jewish, atheist, germophobic writer who lives in New York? Apparently how to actually live out what I believe.
I’ll be blogging about it for a week or so. When will it start? Uh, when you see me doing the Robot and the Roger Rabbit on the dance floor, you’ll know it’s started.
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