"I am Invincible!"

…shouts Mr. Incredible’s arch nemesis, Syndrome, just before his cape gets caught and he is sucked into the turbine of a jet engine. “I am invincible,” repeats John Mayer in his hit song, No Such Thing, followed by the statement “as long as I’m alive.” I love that song.

The last few years have served to teach me just how invincible I am not; the events of the last couple of weeks, reminders of these lessons.

When I was young, I believed in all kinds of wonderful things. Santa Clause, the Easter Bunny, the President… seriously, I believed my parents, my grandparents, my friends would always be there for me, would always be around or together or happy. I would never have to face life without them. I believed everyone in the church loved God and me and wanted what is best. I believed Jesus would heal every sickness and that, if I loved Him, I would never go without the things I felt were most important. I believed the past was really like the Flintstones and the future would be like the Jetsons. When I was scared or in trouble, I believed I could outrun any foe. I’d take off as fast as I could, heart pounding, mind racing… the world was a blur, my feet barely touching the ground… and when I’d finally stop and turn around, I was home, safe and sound. Nothing could touch me when I was home.

It wasn’t until I was 30 that I broke my first bone. I was 31 when I felt my first real disappointment and fear over a job. I was 33 when I first felt the pain of a lost relationship. It wasn’t until I was 35 that I received my first speeding ticket or lost my first grandparent. I lost my brother when I was only nine (one year older than Christian is now). But my memories of that time are surreal at best. I don’t think I remember them for what they were but rather for what they would become as I grew up.

When I was a very young man, I was often the smartest person in my class. I was often the most naturally talented person in my circle. I became accustomed to people pulling me out of the crowd. I was spoiled, a little. I admit it. But, really, the attention was seldom given because of who I was. Most of the time it was about what I could do or with whom I was associated. I was relatively young when I first began to deal with the pain of this duality. I think I tried to convince myself the two were somehow the same or that fusing them was the key to happiness. When you allow yourself to be defined by what you can and can’t do, you are asking for heartache and disillusionment.

Truthfully, looking back on life thus far, it seems I spent the better portion of it defining myself and my worth by what I couldn’t do (on a personal level) and hiding behind what I could do (on a public level). I lived my teenage and adult life like I lived as a child. I ran and ran and ran but I never made it home. Every time I would turn around, my enemies would still be chasing me. I grew tired of running. I stopped to realize I was not being chased by a monster but rather by my own shadow. Still, in all my crazy chasing about, I had done real harm to myself and others. I had nothing else to blame for it. I was the very enemy I feared. It turned out that I am NOT invincible. Worse yet, mine is my own undoing.

So, I began to think invincibility was a myth. Only God could defeat every foe. He created us to be vulnerable, breakable, weak. That is the mature conclusion, right? Maybe not. You can’t kill something that’s already dead. You can’t slay a spirit. You can’t wound an apparition. You can only be wounded, slain by it—not the fact of it because it doesn’t exist in fact. Rather by the idea of it and your faith in that idea. I was being destroyed by the idea, a lie. My faith in it gave it power. My choices gave it form. Therein lies the key to invincibility.

I read this and am perplexed by its simplicity. “For I fully expect and hope that I will never be ashamed, but that I will continue to be bold for Christ, as I have been in the past. And I trust that my life will bring honor to Christ, whether I live or die. For to me, living means living for Christ, and dying is even better. But if I live, I can do more fruitful work for Christ. So I really don’t know which is better. I’m torn between two desires: I long to go and be with Christ, which would be far better for me. But for your sakes, it is better that I continue to live. Knowing this, I am convinced that I will remain alive so I can continue to help all of you grow and experience the joy of your faith. And when I come to you again, you will have even more reason to take pride in Christ Jesus because of what he is doing through me.” – Phil 1:20-26 It really seems as if Paul is saying “I am invincible!”

I am only capable of being conquered, defeated or subdued when I put faith in the enemies I fear. When I was a child I thought I was invincible. I thought my faith was invincible. I had evidence to support my claims. Little by little, my case unraveled before me. Trying to come to terms with this and still have a life worth meaning became impossible.

“I just found out there’s no such thing as the real world, just a lie you’ve got to rise above.” – John Mayer

So, I’m learning how to be invincible again. Wish me luck.