There are few things that are certain in this life, but two of them are “death” and “taxes”.  I’m settling in to finish up a few tax returns today, and that old phrase came to me as I started to motivate.  Then I got to thinking, those two things may be certain, but they also demand “acceptance” for us to transcend them and move forward in our lives.

In the case of taxes, if we desire to be law-abiding citizens and “do our part”, we have to file a tax return every year.  This project entails, at minimum, gathering up your records, financial or otherwise for the previous calendar year, organizing everything, and completing a tax return (actually two returns, since we are required to file a federal return and return(s) for the state(s) in which we are residents also.

Once everything is together, it’s either a bundle that you give to a tax accountant to complete the return on your behalf, or if you’re so inclined, you bang the returns out via TurboTax or similar software program.

Regardless of your approach, acceptance that this is something you must deal with is the start of the effort.  Or it should be.  Otherwise, you’re likely to be frowning and gnashing your teeth and grumpy through the whole process.  Better to work on the basis of  acceptance, rather than go kicking and screaming through the effort.

Death is a heavier topic of course, but perhaps even more demanding of acceptance.  After all, there’s no dodging death.  Acceptance allows us to get over the angst and anxiety and wringing of hands and move forward.   Rather than dwell on death (either of someone we love perhaps, or fear of our own passing, whenever that may be), it’s better to accept it as reality in whatever context you face, and focus on living.

As I’ve written elsewhere referencing Scott Peck, “Life is difficult….but once we accept it, acknowledge that fact, we’re able to transcend the reality and move forward.”  In other words, rather than lamenting any particular situation, accept it and do your best to improve it if you can.

So with that attitude in mind, I accept the tax returns waiting for my attention, and know that I’ll get through them faster than maybe I think I will, and they’ll be done for another year.  And once I’m finished, I’m going to be sure I linger a moment with the feeling of accomplishment, the reward for accepting the circumstance and moving forward.

[2011 Paris-Roubaix Winner, Johan Vansummerenwinning the bike race after a 15km solo breakaway]

Simple words are sometimes the most profound and meaningful.  “Up your game.”  It’s a command, a spur, an encouragement, a motivator.

I find this phrase coming to my mind periodically.  It happens when I witness someone trying to shift blame for a mistake or problem, when I see someone settling for less than their best effort, and when I catch myself not trying to be better at whatever task I’m engaged with.

Obviously the phase is likely indigenous to sports, with the use of the word “game”.  However, it really applies to so much more in life.  Maybe apropos of the many ways sports teach us how to deal with daily life and the real world.

It’s really about effort and holding yourself to a higher standard to do the very best you can.  In sports it could be making every free-throw, or having better at-bats, or nailing the ollie on your skateboard, or mastering the corner kick, or whatever.

The concept of making your best effort applies to all facets of life.  Whether you’re a student and we’re talking about your studies, a kid in a family doing the chores your parents asked you to do, when you come through with a good performance you feel good about yourself.

Whether you’re a worker of ANY type who has tasks to complete (which is what you’re paid to do), or in efforts at home to make your family life — whatever the circumstance — as positive and enjoyable as possible for everyone, you make a difference for yourself and those around by doing your best.

In fact, I would say that doing the best we can is something we owe to ourselves, and those around us.  After all, when we DON’T do the best we can, our self-esteem drops, we feel like we fell short, we missed the mark,  we let someone down — first and foremost, ourselves.

I’d like to say upping your game is something we should do “every day, in every way”, but that’s not the truth really.  Letting things slide a bit sometimes is inevitable and necessary — we can’t do it all.  If we attempt to perform at the very highest level, all the time, we’ll get tired, sloppy, and our motivation will lessen as we inevitably fail (at least partially) at something.

We have to prioritize efforts so that our limited energy is put to maximum use.  We also have to manage our commitments in a manner commensurate with the time we have available.   You hear this frequently when reading time management tips, with experts suggesting we schedule our most important work of the day during the hours when we have the most energy, concentration, motivation.

“Up your game.”

In the end, the phrase should encourage us to strive, to reach, to focus, to improve, to expect more of ourselves.  Use it with others in the right manner, together with constructive, supportive tone and commitment, and they’ll shine as well.

Good Friday.

Since I was a young adult, the day always has a particular effect on me.

As a Christian, or at least for me as a Christian, I think a lot about what Jesus went through on this day, during what is more formally called The Passion.  I reflect on his final journey as a person on this planet, as he struggled to reach the place where he would die:  Golgotha.

I think about Golgotha not only as a destination, a small hill, scholars say, outside the old city walls of Jerusalem, where the Romans exacted capital punishment by crucifixion. Rather I think about it in the context of what I imagine Jesus was thinking on his way to his death.

Was it a walk filled with dread?  After all, Jesus was fully human, even as he was also divine.

You might recall that he was reported to have experienced such anguish on the night of his arrest that he sweat blood while praying in Gethsemane.  After being taken into custody, he was interrogated for hours, brutalized in numerous ways, and was finally flogged by Roman soldiers in the palace garrison.  He was clear on his fate, shouted by the crowd in front of Pilate.  “Crucify him!”

But maybe by the time he was carrying the wooden cross down the dirt road to Golgotha — bleeding, beaten, exhausted — maybe he had a sense of acceptance as he gazed up the hill.  Did waves of panic and despair still flow through him, or had fear finally drained away?  I try to imagine the unimaginable on this day.  It’s part of my faith, after all.  He died for me, as they say.

Did he have a sense of despair and abandonment?  Surely this makes the most sense.

As the soldiers stripped him naked, the Roman centurion looking on, Jesus must have felt completely alone, defeated, doomed.  Even though he had already been beaten badly over many hours, tortured really, the pain must have reached a new crescendo as they nailed his hands and feet to the cross on the ground, before hoisting it up on that hill.

After all these trials, did he still somehow, inexplicably, have faith?

Is it possible that even in that darkest moment, even as he hung there dying, his body broken and life seeping out, that deep within, the faith Jesus had sustained him as the final hours of his life ticked away?

I obviously don’t know.  I know what I try to believe, but I don’t know.  I’ve pondered it since before the sun was up today, prayed on it over and over again these many years since I started thinking about this circumstance, but I don’t know.

Sometimes I’m more certain, sometimes I feel skeptical, a bit ashamed actually that I’m not sure. Then again, what is faith without doubt?

What I am certain about is what Jesus’ story and this particular day mean for me, what it represents.

For me what happened on Golgotha comes down to love.  God’s love for humanity, for me, and how that love was expressed through Jesus of Nazareth.    His message to the very end, and beyond,  is just that.  It’s instructive really. Love God. Love each other.  Even love your enemies.

The message is a good one.  The lesson is also. Perhaps that’s why, as I heard a homilist say once, they call this Friday, “Good”.