Rob Bell - How To Be Here

This was the sixth book I’d written, so you’d think it wouldn’t have been so hard. But it was. It was the most difficult thing I’d ever made. It didn’t matter that I’d done it before. It didn’t matter that I’d done months and months of outlining and arranging. It didn’t matter that I cared deeply about the content.

The blinking line can be brutal.

Because the blinking line doesn’t just taunt you with all the possibilities that are before you, the potential, all that you sense could exist but isn’t yet because you haven’t created it. The blinking line also asks a question:

Who are you to do this?

And that question can be paralyzing. It can prevent us from overcoming inertia. It can cause crippling doubt and stress. It can keep us stuck on the couch while life passes us by.

To answer the question, Who are you to do this?,

you first have to get out of your head.

I use this phrase out of your head because that’s where it’s easy to get stuck. Somewhere between our hearts and our minds is an internal dialogue, a running commentary on what we think and feel and believe. It’s the voices in your head that speak doubt and insecurity and fear and anxiety. Like a tape that’s jammed on “repeat,”these destructive messages will drain an extraordinary amount of your energies if you aren’t clear and focused and grounded.

To get out of your head, it’s important to embrace several truths about yourself and those around you, beginning with this one:

Who you aren’t isn’t interesting.

You have a list of all the things you aren’t, the things you can’t do, the things you’ve tried that didn’t go well. Regrets, mistakes that haunt you, moments when you crawled home in humiliation. For many of us, this list is the source of a number of head games, usually involving the words,

Not _________ enough.

Not smart enough,

not talented enough,

not disciplined enough,

not educated enough,

not beautiful, thin, popular, or hardworking enough,

you can fill in the __________.

Here is the truth about those messages:

They aren’t interesting.

What you haven’t done,

where you didn’t go to school,

what you haven’t accomplished,

who you don’t know and what you are scared of

simply aren’t interesting.

I’m not very good at math. If I get too many numbers in front of me I start to space out.

See? Not interesting.

If you focus on who you aren’t, and what you don’t have, or where you haven’t been, or skills or talents or tools or resources you’re convinced aren’t yours, precious energy will slip through your fingers that you could use to do something with that blinking line.

In the same way that who you aren’t isn’t interesting when it comes to getting out of your head,

who “they” are isn’t interesting.

We all have our they —friends, neighbors, co-workers, family members, superstars who appear to skate by effortlessly while we slog it out. They are the people we fixate on, constantly holding their lives up to our life, using their apparent ease and success as an excuse to hold back from doing our work and pursuing our path in the world.

Siblings who don’t have to study and still get better grades. Brothers-in-law who make more money without appearing to work very hard. Friends who have kids the same age as ours and yet they never seem stressed or tired and always look great.

There’s a moving moment in one of the accounts of Jesus’s life where he’s reunited with one of his disciples, a man named Peter. (I started out as a preacher, and so these stories are in my blood.) Peter is the disciple who had denied that he even knew Jesus earlier in the story, and you can feel his relief when Jesus forgives him, telling him he has work for Peter to do.

And how does Peter respond to this powerful moment of reconciliation?

He points to one of Jesus’s other disciples and asks, What about him?

All Peter can think about is someone else’s path . He’s with Jesus, having a conversation, and yet his mind is over there, wondering about John.

Peter asks,

What about him?

and Jesus responds,

What is that to you?

In the movie Comedian, Jerry Seinfeld runs into a young comedian named Orny Adams backstage at a club where they are both performing and Orny says to him,

“You get to a point where you’re like ‘How much longer can I take it?’”

Jerry is utterly perplexed by Orny’s sentiment, asking, “What—is time running out?”

Orny then begins a litany of complaints and excuses—“I’m getting older … I feel like I’ve sacrificed so much of my life.”

Jerry is amazed, “Is there something else you would rather have been doing? Other appointments or places you gotta be?”

Then Orny pulls out a new line of complaints: “I see my friends are making a lot of money … Did you ever stop and compare your life? Okay, I’m twenty-nine and my friends are all married and they all have kids and houses. They have some sort of sense of normality. What do you tell your parents?”

Jerry’s response: “Are you out of your mind? … This has nothing to do with your friends. It’s such a special thing. This has nothing to do with making it.”

I love those lines from Seinfeld:

This has nothing to do with your friends.

It’s such a special thing.

This has nothing to do with making it.

Decide now that you will not spend your precious energy speculating about someone else’s life and how it compares with yours.

We each have our own life, our own blinking line, and every path has its own highs and lows, ups and downs, joys, challenges, and difficulties.

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