The "Showing Up Mentality" - by Ashleigh Vella

I am so proud of my fiancée. Her personal and spiritual development has likewise re-kindled my personal and spiritual development. I want to share with you something she recently wrote for me to read. We all can relate to and learn from what Ashleigh has written; it applies to every aspect of our lives. Enjoy! 

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So I have decided to take over Johnny’ s blog again I guess in an effort to 1) overcome the monotony of my life and 2) to make an invested interest in using my brain for something other than basketball. My first point can become a danger or pitfall of my occupation. Don’t get me wrong, I love the fact that I get paid to play basketball; seriously it’s a dream come true. However, with that being said I am afforded a considerable amount of free time between practices, and whilst this sounds appealing, napping and Netflix can only entertain you for so long. To my second point, in my previous invasion of Johnny’s blog I highlighted my somewhat of an identity crisis I had half way through last year. When you are paid to play and coach basketball your life essentially becomes consumed with basketball. Although I often claim to just be a dumb jock I recognise that there is a need to use my brain in an intellectual way, away from the basketball court. The brain, being a muscle like the rest of my body, was tending to succumb to the boredom and inactivity of my life. So, with this all being said, I am trying my hand at writing.  

So I got to thinking the other day after a conversation with my roommate. We were discussing her schedule for the next day. She unfortunately had a physiotherapy appointment the next morning at 7:15 am - I mean, seriously, what physio do you know that works at 7:15am? - and then directly after she had school from 8-11:45 then again at 1:45-4:00. I am extremely happy my college days are behind me. When discussing her schedule she jokingly said:  

Roommate: “I think I will sleep in class at 8am” Me: “Then why go? Why not just come home and sleep in your bed? At least it’ll be more comfortable.”  Roommate: “Yeah, but at least I am there (in class).”  

Whilst she said this in a very joking manner it really struck a chord with me. Let me first preface by saying my roommate is an extremely hard working young woman. She has what I would deem a ridiculous schedule. On top of the fact she is at training twice a day, along with physiotherapy sessions and a booming social life, she also accomplishes all of these things with a smile and minimal complaining. Whilst her comment was said fairly flippantly, it really got me thinking: since when did “being there” or “showing up” become enough?  

This idea of "Well, at least I am in class but I am going to sleep through it" is just the beginning to this behaviour. We see it in all facets of life: “I’m going to class, but I’ll be sleeping or on my phone the whole time”, “I have practice tonight but I don’t really feel like being there and I’m really thinking about work tomorrow”, “I go to church on Sunday’s but really I’m thinking about what I’m having for lunch after” or “I’m hanging out with my *insert significant other* but really I’m thinking about something or someone else." This behaviour is like a poison that seeps into all facets of our lives and so inconspicuously that we don’t even realise it. I’d like to think of this behaviour as the “showing up mentality." I may be here physically, but mentally, emotional and even spiritually I’m M.I.A. 

My college coach, whom I have the upmost respect for, was not only a great coach but a master of the one liners. Two of my personal favourites of his was the term “clock-watcher” and the ever quotable “Are you trying to thrive or you just trying to survive?” (6am conditioning; the answer is always survive!) As funny as these lines were at the time, I don’t think I truly appreciated or understood these sentiments until later on in life. How many times have we been at work/practice/with friends and just watched the seconds and minutes tick by? When you adopt a “showing up” mentality you become a clock-watcher, you don’t utilize where you are and thus your opportunity for self-improvement or relationships development. Whilst the adage of “survive or thrive” is a tad corny, it’s true. If you are surviving you are embracing the “showing up” mentality of "I am here" it but doesn’t mean I am getting anything out of it. Whereas if you embrace the “thrive” mentality you are engaged in what is happening, you are trying to do something meaningful with your time.  

I think this mentality is the most dangerous to your relationships; firstly, to the most important relationship you will ever have: with God. We have all at one point or another been found wanting when it comes to our relationship with God; sin is in our nature after all. How many times have we been at church, or reading our Bible and instead of solely focusing on the good word we are worrying about something else. I have found myself more times than I am willing to admit reading my daily devotional which is talking about “resting in God” and “seeking Him with everything I do” whilst simultaneously thinking about what time my bus will leave and what I will wear for practice. Unfortunately, committing yourself whole-heartedly and just “showing up” are two mentalities you can’t have at the same time. It’s like saying I’m going on a diet and then eating four meat lover’s pizzas; the intention and the act are at odds with one another. There are many scripture verses that say over and over again that the Lord is with you always (Deuteronomy 31:6, Romans 8:28, Isiah 41:10, Romans 8:38-39 to name a few). Therefore, if we have a God who is always with us, who is always devoted and invested in us, why would we not do the same in return? It is my duty as a Christian to be invested in the Lord at all times, that I should always put God first and foremost (Matthew 6:33) and to cast my anxieties or worries on Him (Philippians 4:6-7). I think Jesus in Matthew 22:37 summed it up perfectly “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.” He doesn’t say "love the Lord sometimes when you are thinking about Him, love him with most of your mind, but don’t forget about the groceries, the homework and the pile of laundry you have." The love God has for us is an all or nothing kind of deal, so why would we think our reciprocation of our love for God be anything less?  

This mentality is also toxic in our everyday relationships and is one reason why we see this shift from face to face communication to digital communications. It is so much easier to not be present or mentally invested in a person or conversation when you are having it on the phone. This is something both myself and Johnny have been guilty of. We will be having a FaceTime conversation, yet I am reading through emails while he is checking the news. Yes we are “having a conversation” but I mean is either one of us actually invested in what the other is saying? This generation is so technologically advanced and whilst this has seen many great improvements in all facets of our lives it has also been a huge factor in the deterioration of interpersonal relationships, because we no longer have to physical, emotional, socially or mentally be with someone to converse with them. I now no longer have to look my Mum in the eye in Melbourne, Australia to talk to her from St Brieuc, France. So when Mum messages me and asks how am I, I can quick type out “I’m fine, got to go to practice, love you” in less than three seconds and continue my activity. But have I really engaged with my family? Have I really worked on my family relationship?  

I guess the true meaning behind this post was to have a bit of a rant, but ultimately as a reminder or “mentality check.” Are you showing up to places and merely “clock-watching” or are you going to places and fully socially/emotionally/mentally/spiritually engaging with the people and things around you? At the end of the day, you only have one life to live and it’s your duty to live it to the fullest. I truly believe the only way to do that is to be there; truthfully and faithfully be there. 

Will.I.am is asking, "where.am.I?"

I finally watched the new and improved Where is the Love? music video from the Black Eyed Peas. Admittedly, I thought the new song would be another catchy and corny tune for everyone to love everyone. Can't we all just get along? Will.I.am would ask.

To my surprise, the song has unwrapped a lot of difficult questions and challenges who I am.

I must make it known that what I am about to write was not completely hatched from my own brain. The song was brought to my attention by my fiance, Ashleigh, where she then added that she feels there is a much deeper meaning to the lyrics than what people are pointing out (which I will explain soon). Also, powerhouse Christian apologist Ravi Zacharias, in one of his many lectures and presentations, cited the original version of the song by the Black Eyed Peas years ago. He, too, expressed great surprise at the philosophical significance the song carried.

Here is what my take away from the song boils down to:

Will.I.am is really asking to a Christian like me, "Who.am.I and where.am.I?"

"Can you practice what you (are) preachin’?" could be a generalized request for everyone. Even if you ardently believe in karma, why are you then still acting a fool to your neighbour?

But this line, and another to soon be explicated, should hit home to Christians with a bit more bass. (I have officially decided to cease trying to use hip-hop puns, beginning now. My lack of pop cultural relevance has been exposed.)

If that was the highlight verse to take home - the core of the message in the song - then the Black Eyed Peas would be simply asking for everyone to play nice, get along, don't hate, etc.

As the first half-or-so of the music video played out, I was not completely convinced that this was anything overtly spectacular. It is nice, I thought, but not a shimmering trove of social wisdom.

Then this spiritual sucker punch came: "If you’ve never known love, then you've never known God."

Well, Black Eyed Peas featuring The World, you have answered your own titular question there! Why, then, are you still looking for it?

This song is far more deep and complex than I would like to admit of a current and popular song with a style of music I do not particularly like. But Mr .am, I believe, and his friends are truly asking the Christian community to step up. They are asking where.are.you?

Why do I say this? Whoever wrote this song seems to understand the truths of God and his love as some level. It was quite amazing for me to hear one of the artists say the words "If you've never known love, then you've never known God." As it is written, “Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love.” (1 John 4:12)

On one level, there seems to be a disconnection between the artists and the message. They know where the love is, they want "the Father from up above bring guidance.” This could lead this post to go on and criticise our society that while we are asking for guidance from the Father up above, we are also trying get him away from us personally and collectively (in schools, for example). This is not my focus.

The song, however, is emphasising a far different point. If we look at everyone involved in this song as a caricature of society in general, we can break it down this way: Society, deep down, knows where the love is; the love is in God; there is a desire for people to practice what they preach.

But which people? I say, the song is a blatant call from our secular society for Christians to get (back) to work.

In the recesses of my soul and mind, I knew the Bible would have something to say on this.

In the Gospel of Luke’s account of Jesus’ triumphant entrance into Jerusalem, all of his disciples and followers “began joyfully to praise God in loud voices for all the miracles they had seen” (v. 37). Meanwhile, the Pharisees, who at this point were clearly fed up with whom they considered to be a blasphemous Messiah, told Jesus to rebuke his followers.

“I tell you,” (Jesus) replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.” (Luke 19:40)

If no one proclaims the works of God, which is love, then even the stones on the ground will cry out for it.

I am a disciple. I have seen God’s love. If I keep quiet about it, if I do not proclaim and do not “practice what I’m preachin’”, then even the stones – even the Black Eye Peas – will cry out.

Mr. Goat

Let me recount the story of when a homeless man crashed a friend and mine's casual evening at a pub.

Greyson, a Filipino-American from Southern California, and I had just partaken - rather, witnessed - a far-right wing rally in Wroclaw before visiting one of our favourite bars in Wroclaw. It is an old-timey place adorned with pre-war antiques and old furniture, not to mention cheap beer and vodka.

With St. Elizabeth's church towering behind our backs and a calm May evening warmth embracing us, we guzzled the first round of beers, funded by me. Greyson went to retrieve our second round just as the evening crowds were growing and occupying the bar.

Standing out from the regular nightly crowd – a lovely blend of two-parts Poles, one part Europeans in general - was a dusty homeless man. Now, these men parole the streets in numbers in Wrocław, so the site of one was not uncommon. I paid not much attention to him apart from the fact that he stopped nearly directly in my line of site and pulled out a comb to smooth out his greasy grey hair. Like the patrons around him, he, too, must have been intent to impress others.

Greyson returned with not just one round of beers but an additional round as well. The mathematician student acutely planned to order the third round ahead of time, being alert of the growing queue. He passed the homeless man, unaware of his presence, and sat down. We clinked raised glasses in honour of Poland (or something like that) and sipped on our beers. It was to be a moment to be experienced care free, yet the visual presence of the homeless man latched a mental barrier to me. A growing anxiety of him coming over to ask for a handout grew within me.

Alas, as he was combing his hair and looking at himself in the reflection of the pub window, he spotted us. He turned, sheathed his comb, and, exceeding my previously-stated anxieties, sat down.

Without a word, not even in his native Polish, the man reached for one of the two remaining un-drunk beers and proceeded to make that un-drunk beer partially drunk.

Lightly appalled yet with a light shrug of "yeah, this is Poland," Greyson and I waited to hear from the man.

He began to speak in Polish. As usual with his countrymen, what he was saying was long-winded. I had to interrupt him. In my best broken Polish, I replied that we are not Polish, sorry.

Stumbling through his broken English, the man asked "Who-? From where-? are you?"

"America," and our respective homes, we responded.

He sat back in his chair, eyes widening, and his hand smacking his forehead. "Oh, kurwa," he said. "America? You are America?"

We nodded.

"That is magic," he said, shaking head, taking another slurp of beer. Greyson and I, growing more incredulous by the second, could only nod our heads to affirm him correct to incredulously finding Americans to talk to.

The man then perked up and began to talk about a slew of things in English, perhaps translating what he had spoken in Polish earlier. "Leicester City. That is my team. They are the best."

"Oh, you are a Leicester City supporter?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered. "They are champions."

Being early in May and thus late in football seasons across Europe, Leicester City of the English Premier League were only at the doorstep of their historic title security. He seemingly had great confidence the team would see the crown through.

"It's not Manchester. Not Arsenal. Liverpool," he continued, throwing a dismissive and disgusted hand at each club.

"They are a great team," I said.

"Yes. You see the church?" he pointed behind us. "That is my church. Bóg is my love."

"God is your love?" I confirmed. "That's great."

"Yes."

It was time to switch up the conversation; time for me to crack out my Polish.

"Jak czy pracujesz?" I asked, misprononounce-iently.

He replied that he worked as an electrician of some sort. Doubtingly this was his current job. 

I wanted to ask where he was from: "Skąd jesteś?"

He raised both arms in the air as if to embrace the city. "Wrocław!"

"To jest najlepsze miasto," I said, praising Wrocław to be the best city in Poland. Greyson nodded in agreement, raising a glass to our love for the western Polish city.

Our conversation broke in and out of English and elementary Polish. He would rephrase his admiration for Leicester City from time to time and was also careful to point out to us where the "ladies of the night hang out." Nie dziękujemy, Greyson and I said, declining his advice.

It occured to me that I had failed to ask a very basic question: What is your name?

Here, then, comes confusion.

His first name escapes me; it is lost in the recesses of my mind. But his surname came out as "Kozel-szewski." Thanks to great Czech beer marketing, I knew that kozel (koza) is the Polish/Czech/Slavic word for 'goat.' However, as far as a Google search can tell, there does not seem to be anyone named Kozelszewski (a spelling error, at this juncture, is inevitable).

The three of us had a laugh about his surname pertaining to a goat. At that moment, and in other moments of reflection, I have always been curious on how surnames and family names are derived. Here in Poland there are names of families that directly translate to rabbit, for example. There are, then, people in Poland named Jacob Rabbit. A famous Polish footballer bears the family name of cabbage. Bart Cabbage, he is thus known to be. How quaint it is to then know people with the surnames like Shoemaker. Peoples. Lekkerkerk ('nice church' in Dutch). Names are funny things.

We continued to drink our beers and recycle the same talking points throughout the evening. Leicester City. America. God. Women of the night. Intermittently through our conversation, Greyson and I would glance at each other and, with carefully executed eye-motions and gestures of the head, covertly agreed that it is was time to leave.

"Well, we must be going," we said to our new friend, Mr Goat.

We stood, and Mr. Goat stood, too. As respectively as one being homeless could, he asked for just a few coins.

"Złotych?" I asked. "Money?"

He nodded and held out his hands.

Had not our meet and greet over drinks happened, I likely would have dropped a few coins into his dusty palms, enough for a small bite or, more certainly, a cheap beer from the shop. Had not the free beer been enough for him?

"Sorry, no" we said. I added, "The beer you drank was four zlotłch. Piwo był cztery złotych." I pointed to his empty glass of beer and followed with a thumbs up. "It's enough, okay?"

While most others probably would have pushed the issue, he agreed. Indeed, if he were to snatch a beer from anyone else around us, they would have added an additional bloody scar to his head!

Greyson and I gathered our belongings and turned towards the main square. Mr. Goat stayed behind. We shook hands and gave a final hurrah for Leicester City.

Moving towards Rynek, Greyson and I exchanged comments and head shakes of disbelief towards our recent encounter with our new Polish friend. As strange as the moment was, it held certain value for me at the time and until this very moment. Sparse utterances of English mixed with Polish allowed us to engage in conversation with a elderly man who, had we been able to speak fluent Polish, or he fluent English, we would have been thrilled to get to know. What is his story? What has he seen? Given Poland's tumultuous history, both ancient and recent, great insights and perspectives could have been gained from speaking further with this man.

I took a look back at the outdoor seating of the pub to see if Mr. Goat was following us. To my slight dismay, he was not. To my further dismay, he was seen to be harassing another group of people, asking for money. While our conversation with Mr Goat was meaningful in ways both amusing and impacting for us, it seemed to not have effected him at all. What difference would it have been if we offered him an additional beer? Or given him money? Might as well have caused an uproar and physically forced him away from us after heisting one of beers initially. It seemed the last ten minutes meant nothing for him.

Hopefully, I will see Mr Goat again. I cannot completely recall his complexion in exact detail so that I may recognise him on the street, but, as the way things are here, you are bound to rub shoulders with the same beggars more than once. Perhaps such a moment will lead me to Mr Goat, the mysterious former electrician and Leicester City supporter.

A yearning to learn more Polish feeds my overarching desire to discover the mysteries of this city. It is yet to be seen if Mr Goat and the people like him - the beggars and wanderers – can unveil the mysteries of this city.

Lean to the Right

Back on 25 April, while waiting for my BlaBla Car driver to pick me up for my week-long holiday, I saw this poster:

As you can see from the imagery, I was intrigued by what was shown: the German Chancellor and TIME Magazine Person of the Year recipient Angela Merkel, haloed by the EU Flag and with an heiling Hitler arm stuck to her body. Above, reads the slogan POL EXIT (Polish Exit). And Polska Bez Unii Europejskiej (Poland without the European Union). Below, symbols of immigration, Islam, the Euro, and a fourth thing I could not quite decipher were cancelled out.

If you have been at least half aware of the world around you, these kind of sentiments are abound. While BREXIT (British Exit), or the British exit from the EU, is more discussed in America, many other countries such as Poland are experiencing similar anti-EU feelings. In their point of view, the EU is crippling the European economy and open immigration - thanks to the open borders policy of the EU and the Schengen Area agreement - is diluting the "European-ness" of Europe.

After returning from my holiday tour of Frankfurt, Germany; Bratislava; and Vienna, I was poised to see this protest in action. Via YouTube and VICE News, I had seen glimpses of such kinds of rallies - and this was likely to be like the rest: right-leaning individuals composed of soccer hooligans and hardened nationalists. Many of these kinds of rallies, such as those in Germany, often turn violent.

On 1 May, I was poised to see and experience something similar.

Alas, the rally I saw was a bit of a "disappointment." I say this naively. Had it actually turned violent, I would not be saying the same thing. Nevertheless, the rally itself was a cultural experience for me. The cast of characters present at the rally was a sight in itself.

You can watch the relatively tame rally in the video below.

The marchers are touting the inherent truth of the Bible, all the while spouting hate and ignorance. Seems they need to read the Good Book a little more carefully?

This small rally represents only a very small fraction of the views of Poles today. By the end of the week, a counter rally took place in Warsaw to promote Poland's place in the EU and European values. Here, 240,000 people marched in the capital city, making it one of the largest rallies in Poland since the collapse of communist rule in 1989. (EDIT: Some have notified me that media outlets had revised this number, down to as low as 55,000.)

As it is often said, though, it only takes a few bad apples to rot the whole batch (or bushel?) Those who marched through Wrocław on 1 May in no way resemble the Poles that I know.

I would like to thank Paweł, one of my English students, for labouring as my translator.

And, apparently, this happened later in the march. I did not witness this with my own eyes, as my roommate and I had gone off in search of a pub: http://forward.com/news/breaking-news/339881/far-right-pole-burns-poster-of-mayor-wearing-kippah/

http://www.thenews.pl/1/9/Artykul/251155,Polish-nationalist-burns-image-of-mayor-in-skullcap

Sports and Faith in Europe - New Challenges, Same Sacred Remedy (featuring Ashleigh Vella as a contributing author)

From John, in Wroclaw, Poland

My fiancée, Ashleigh Vella, is the greatest. I love her because she pushes me to try new things. Even better, she pushes me to do things that I should be doing anyway - like writing. It is a skill of mine, but I do not work at it enough. Shame on me. Yet bless Ash for inspiring me to write, because she has taken up the desire to write herself. And she didn't start with anything simple. She decided to write about her faith journey, and particularly her missteps in faith whilst in France. After you read it, you'll find honesty and a message that we can all relate to if we subscribe to the same beliefs. Her first post was a brave one, and now I want to rise to the challenge and present to you my faith journey as of late. In fact, it fits nicely with what Ash wrote, which follows mine.

To begin, I will inform you that I am living and working in Wroclaw, Poland. Here, I am doing two things I was never expecting to do. First, I am coaching and playing American football. I didn't expect to be doing this because I was certain to be finished with the sport about two years ago. The second is teaching English. This is unexpected because, well, it never occurred to me that I would want to or even could be an English teacher. Alas, American football was not finished with me and English teaching has provided a meaningful career option, and both have been my doors to Europe and beyond.

Witnessing stale religion

When I arrived to the western Polish city of Wroclaw, formerly Breslau, I was aware of only a few facts about Poland: 1) They aren't communists any more, 2) Poland is a growing and developing country in its post-communist era, 3) they love vodka, and 4) they are very Catholic.

To the last point, I have heard and read that around 90 percent of the Polish population identify as Catholic. My excursions in Wroclaw and about elsewhere in Poland can attest to this. There are churches - beautiful churches - everywhere. Nearly every street, every neighbourhood, and every village has an ornate house of worship. Catholic/Christian symbols and imagery can also be found on every street corner and nearly every person. Small parks or even family's front yards are adorned with a crucifix or shrines honouring other saints. People often wear crucifixes across their necks or keep pictures of their patron saint inside their wallet. In short, Catholicism is visible in Poland.

I must now be careful with the next few words. I have no intentions of exposing the dust in the eyes of the natives here, because I surely have a plank in my own. While Catholicism is visible, it is not felt, it is not sensed. Some people I know proclaim to be atheists even when they wear a crucifix or perform the sign of the cross. People - often elderly women - regularly enter an open church throughout the weekday to sit in a pew, say their prayers, then leave. The churches are packed, to standing room only, on every religious holiday.

After a few weeks, it was apparent that many here are Catholic in name only. It's cultural Catholicism. This concept was personified in one particular moment I witnessed.

Discovering my own stale religion

The homeless and the beggars in Wroclaw number quite significantly. It is not rare to see men - and a few women - stagger about the streets asking for money or, more directly, for a beer. Indeed, Poland is growing economically, yet many of its residence still struggle to make decent earnings. Quite often I see men and women, who appear to be in decent health and wearing fresh clothes, digging through trash cans and dumpsters to collect used cans and bottles, all in an effort to gain an extra dollar or two.

Having covered much of the city by foot, I have become familiar with particular districts and the local beggars, homeless, or drunks, to be blunt. One day I was standing outside one of the largest churches - Kościół pw. św. Wojciecha - in the city as I killed time between English lessons. Kneeling by the door of the church was a man I have seen many times. He's thin, dirty, and his torso and one arm shakes and jolts regularly, as if being lightly electrocuted. His forehead sometimes bleeds or is scarred from bleeding. To top it off, he is often sitting in a puddle of his own urine. I do not know the source of this man's ailments, but every time I see him, my heart aches.

So there he sat, shaking, being baked in the hot sun outside the church. He doesn't speak, at least that I have heard. He weakly reaches out his grimy hat, hoping for some coins to be dropped in. For about 10 minutes, I watched people file in and out of the church without giving him a notice. I can't recall if anyone offered money to him.

At that time, I scolded all those who walked past him. I thought to myself, this man is sitting inches from a church, a place of refuge and shelter, and the church's people lend no helping hand.

This country flaunts its Catholic roots, yet I rarely see deeds flaunted to those in need.

But, how was I any different?

I call myself a Christian, yet in similar ways as I have seen around me lately, I rarely express my Christianity. I am often irritated and bitter towards groups of people or my responsibilities, which I often feign as sarcasm. I was recently challenged from a sermon given at the International Church of Wroclaw: Am I really showing my faith? Is my real?

Being real

If we believe in the actuality and reality of Jesus' life, his sacrifice, and his promise, our lives should be obnoxiously joyful and bountiful in good deeds.

There was a disconnect within me between my faith and belief and my actions and words. Lately, I have been devoting my free time to studying arguments and reasoning for the existence of God, the reliability of the Gospels, proof of Jesus' resurrection, and so on, but I had rarely spent time acting out my faith. I decided this had to change, and the first and easiest way for me to step out was to help men like the one begging outside the church.

Through the International Church of Wroclaw, a small, English-based church, I have met Brett Hamilton. The Montana native serving as a missionary in Wroclaw for several years has encouraged me to assemble small snack packs with tracts attached to them proclaiming the good news of the Gospel, of salvation through Jesus. No longer do I need to suffer through an inner conflict of giving money to a beggar who I am quite sure will use it to only harm themselves more.

Helping the poor, in realisation, is an easier expression of faith. In truth, the language barrier between myself and many of the people I hope to help will limit my time engaging in a conversation. I can deliver the Polish-translated message of the Good News, give them a small bite to eat, then be on my way. 'Express Christianity', it could be named.

The challenge now is to act out my faith with people I know better, with people I spend more time with. Football is a love-hate relationship for me. To be honest, my yearnings for competing is waning; football does not hold the same amount of thrill for me as it once did. And too often I let it dictate my mood. The sport often makes me cranky and listless. It downgrades my otherwise good-spirited lifestyle. The challenges of coaching and playing in a foreign country brings with it a number of moments that make me into a person I don't want to be. Only in a football context will the F Word leave my mouth!

This then has been the challenge to my faith. Many on my team know I attend church as regularly as I can, and I have professed my faith to a number of people here. But have they seen a difference in me than in others? Am I the obnoxiously joyous? When times are irritating, frustrating, or downright awful, do I face them with a smile? Is there a fervour of happiness within me?

Am I sharing my faith regularly, even to those I love? Am I being a spiritual leader and encourager to my fiancée? To my sisters? Friends?

I am reminded and reinvigorated by the story of Paul and Silas in jail from Acts 16. Once again locked up, cold, naked, dirty, in the dark, Paul and Silas did not throw their faith by the wayside. It was resonating through the stone prison walls, perking the interest of the fellow inmates. That is real 

faith. That is a faith I strive to have.

From Ash, in Saint-Brieuc, Bretagne, France:

So as of late I have had a lot of thoughts swirling around in my head, and really felt like I needed to get them out, and put “pen to paper” in a sense, and in more than a long-winded Facebook post. I asked Johnny about the idea of writing a blog post together and sharing our stories, experiences and most importantly our voice. However I am not sure I am as eloquent a writer as Johnny, for him it is a passion and a true calling for me it is more of an outlet.

Since arriving in France, I have never felt further away from God, my faith and, at times myself. I have always thought of myself as somewhat of a spiritual toddler of sorts. I never grew up in an extremely religious family. Sure, they are good people, taught me good morals and shaped the person I am today in more ways than one, but religion was just not something we really discussed in my household. It wasn’t until my senior year that faith, God or religion would enter into my life. My junior year I was introduced to our incoming freshman Blaire Brady, and we seemingly hit it off straight away. Joking about coach’s team hiking trip in which that would be our bonding moment we would become best friends (although on her recruiting I may or may not forgotten her name and embarrassed myself quite thoroughly). Little did I know meeting Blaire would be one of the biggest blessings of my life. What drew me to Blaire was her over exuberant personality, her ability to laugh at everything including herself and her general love of life. She was always so happy and positive even in the midst of contracting mono half-way through her freshman year. Even looking like death warmed up she was still so happy and positive. I started to wonder and examine my own life. Sure, I was happy: that year we had won the Big Sky Championship, my academics were strong and I had some great roommates, teammates and friends, but there was something still missing from my life. During the summer and leading into my senior year, Blaire and I started discussing her faith and her relationship with God. I had gone to church before with another teammate but it certainly didn’t stick. I didn’t feel a pull to return or follow up. But the more I spoke with Blaire and saw her conviction, the more I was convinced this was something I wanted to try. To cut a long story short or at least a little shorter going with Blaire to church and then eventually FCA (Fellowship of Christian Athletes) at ISU was one of the best decisions of my life. There, I strengthening my relationship with God along with developed friendships and relationships that I will forever treasure. (It also didn’t hurt going each week to FCA so I could flirt with my soon-to-be husband ;))

After my senior year I felt like my relationship with God was solid, I had Johnny with me as we endeavoured to England for our Master’s degrees. Johnny was someone who challenged me to keep my faith strong and as our relationship grew together, along with our relationship with God.

I was lucky enough to have a second year in England in which I met two guardian angels in the form of Katie Benson and Melissa Jones. Those two girls become my rock! After Johnny was basically deported from England, I was at a real low point. We had never been separated like that and for that amount of time. There was a ton of uncertainty as to where he would end up and when we would see each other next. But Katie and MJ never let me wallow alone in my room. They were a constant source of strength and continually checking in on me. We even formed an FCA of sorts in Durham, where other teammates and athletes would participate in. Both of them renewed my relationship with God and encouraged me to sort out His strength in my time of uncertainty.

Which brings me back to the present, here in France. As I said early I have always felt like somewhat of a spiritual toddler in that a lot of the time I feel like I need someone to hold my hand when it comes to God. I’m not proud to say this, but often if I don’t have someone there pushing me to go to church, read scripture or just live my life in God’s image, I won’t. Therefore, being here in France, away from my support system and being away from the people that challenge me, I have never been further away from God. However as of late, I have been thinking a lot about this and about God, and I have realised the further away from Him I have been, the more I want Him; the more I NEED him in my life.

This year has been my first year of fulfilling a lifelong dream of being a professional basketball player. And whilst this has been a dream come true, it has also seen me face many unexpected challenges. One of the biggest is the pressure to perform. The number one reason you are brought on as a professional player is to, you guessed it- perform your job better than anyone else. You literally eat, sleep, and breathe basketball. I was training twice a day and my life was becoming consumed with basketball. For me this really wasn’t an issue; this is what I signed up for right? I love basketball, always have ever since I picked my first ball at the age of five. Twenty years on, my life for the game is just as strong. What I didn’t anticipate was the pressure I would put on myself to perform. In college we were put under a lot of stress to perform and to win, but there was more to us than JUST being a basketball player. You were a student as well; you could be involved in clubs and social groups. Being a leaders and role models in the community we were often expected to perform community services and projects, like every year we volunteered at the Pocatello Marathon. There were more facets to you than just basketball. About half way into this season in France, I saw a decline in my shooting and my general performance. It seemed that no matter how many shots I took or how many hours I put in the gym, I wasn’t getting any better. My coach and I tried the opposite approach: he gave me time off, we focused on other aspects than shooting, but still to no avail. I was so utterly frustrated with myself and the process.

Then I started to reflect and examine, this is my dream right? This is what I love to do. Why, then was I so unhappy? Then I realised I was rooting so much of my self-worth, so much of myself in my ability to put a rubber ball in a round basket. Honestly it sounds so petulant but, if I had a bad practice, or bad shooting day I would literally get depressed. I was basing all of myself and how much I valued myself as a person on my ability to put a ball in the basket. I realised just how warped my sense of self-worth had gotten. I am basing how valuable I am as a person on a job, on an activity that has a lot to do with luck or chance. No wonder I was getting so depressed and seeing a decline in my performance.

But that’s the thing isn’t it: we base so much of ourselves or what we do or who we are. We define ourselves by what we do. If you ask someone who they are, a normal response would be something about their occupation or their appearance or their family. But here’s the thing all of these things are tangible, changing things. Take me for instance: I am a basketball player, who’s about 6’0” tall, with brown hair, with a mum, dad and one sister and a fiancé that lives in Poland. But let’s be honest here, I won’t play basketball my whole life. I will eventually shrink with old age. I could go out today and chop my hair off and dye it blonde. My sister and her fiancé could have a baby and Johnny won’t always live in Poland. Therefore to root myself in what I do or the people around me or my appearance is difficult because they are not unchangeable concepts. So here I am thinking, “Well, shoot, I can’t keep rooting myself as a basketball player, even though it’s almost all I have ever known.” So what can you anchor yourself in? What is something that is never-changing and ever-present? The answer was simpler than I could have ever thought: God.

In a conversation with Blaire a few weeks back, I confessed my struggles to maintain my relationship with God and Blaire, ever the optimist, pointed out that God was a constant. God “is constant and even when we stray away from Him, He is waiting for us to return with open arms.” It was such a simple thing, such a simple concept, that I almost had the urge to face palm myself. This thought came into fruition a few weeks ago after an extremely tough playoff loss. I was mad and upset with myself, with the result, with everything. But I was able to take a step back and kind of recognised that although I despise losing, God has, blessed me with another opportunity to play. He blessed me with all of my amazing abilities and the opportunities that led me to being a professional basketball player. At the end of the day, this game is just a game and He is bigger than all of us.

When you anchor your self-worth in God and in his love, He will make you strong because he will never forsake you or, abandon you. He wants only the best for His children. I guess the message of this very, very long winded post is that no matter where you are in your walk of faith, be it at the beginning where you’re contemplating your first steps, or somewhere in the middle, is just to be assure you that we all struggle, we all fall down, but if you root your self-worth in God. He will be there each and every time to give you a hand up. Putting our self-worth in ourselves only leads to depression and stress, but putting our self-worth in God makes us bigger and stronger than the problems we will face.

Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your won understanding, in all ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.

Proverbs 3:5-6

So that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ.

Ephesians 3:17-18

From John and Ash: We hope, through this blog, we will be able to present discussions, thoughts, and topics that relate to you. Whether you are an athlete, or not, a Christian, or someone searching, we hope that what we write will relate to you in some way. We have been blessed with the special experience of playing our beloved sports in new and faraway places. This has, as you see above, presented to us new challenges to our faith. We are thankful for those challenges, and by sharing them with you, you will be able to take something positive as you walk with or search for Christ.