11 Words I Needed to Hear

In the din of a bustling convention center, a wiry stranger walked up to me, leaned close to my shoulder, said one sentence, and then walked away. Before the gentleman even finished his deliberate sentence, I felt like he was sent to to deliver it to me.

Eleven words. That’s it. That’s all he said and all he needed to say.

“Every moment that you’re experiencing is a moment only for you.”

That might hit you with the weight of the red ink inside a fortune cookie. For me, though, it landed like a Mission Impossible self-destruct message.

See, I’ve been on an amazing journey. In 2006, my dad and I were attending a Stephen Covey “Seven Habits of Highly Effective People” seminar in Alaska of all places; and I finally decided on a purpose for my life: to pursue physical and spiritual adventures in such a way that draws others to do the same.

That was at the beginning of my fourth year in business, just after I had taken my first week of vacation since I had started Biplane Productions. I was getting more control of my schedule and more disposable income. I had started attending a church filled with adventurers of various kinds—humble folks who would become my friends, influences, and confidants.

I started chasing adrenaline around the world—and finding it. With the explosion of social media, I found new audiences for my stories, too. In a weird variation on materialism, I was accumulating pictures, passport stamps, and accomplishments in a very public way.

I teach auction companies how to build brands, and I knew how to build my own—not just one for Biplane Productions but also for Ryan George. I convinced myself that this adventurer reputation promoted my work as a creative, high-capacity freelancer and also accomplished my new life goal.

But there’s a difference between self-promotion and self-aggrandizement. I started wrestling with that difference. “On which side of that line am I standing?” After a Bible study on the life of Solomon, I was confronted with my insatiable desire for more—and the fact that “more” was not just experiences & places but also audience & approval.

So, it’s probably a good thing that none of my entries won in the GoPro contest to create the next great adventure video to show off their cameras. Instead, I won the chance to help make a MINI USA promotional video—a grand adventure, for sure, but one focused on their brand more than mine.

One of my college marketing buddies advised, “Leverage this.”
One of my pastors counseled, “Get small.”
Both sides of my heart now had succinctly-labeled slogans.

After I filmed my the MINI USA spot, they invited me to represent the final video and their brand at the New York International Auto Show during a media day. As the event neared, I talked to Jesus about it. I asked him to help me know how to absorb whatever he had for me but to also honor him—to show me how to stay small, to remind me not to compete with anyone else’s stories or with the spotlight shining on the other video winner who also designed the car MINI chose to produce.

I’m not sure, but maybe just that surrender was what Jesus wanted.

I got to fulfill a high school dream and see auto manufacturers literally pull the cover off a new model and another drive a new release onto stage from behind the curtain. I got to talk about my Vertigo adventure and my MINI to journalists from various media. I felt comfortable in a place I had never been, a place I never thought I’d see.

There were so many moments—just for me—where I wanted to pinch myself. I didn’t tweet them. I kept my head up instead of preparing a Facebook share. When faced with that temptation, an internal voice whispered, “Would that sound arrogant—and insecure? Who are you trying to impress?” So, for the most part, I just stayed in the moment for a series of moments.

At the end of a bucket-list kind of day, I got a sense that Jesus answered that prayer. He helped me find the humble path through the lights and cameras and action. He gave me this story from my journey, this way to leverage my experience to make much of him.

And he sent a man whose credential badge I didn’t read to confirm what I was feeling and to give me the first and foundational words for this post. After the stranger said the last word, I winked my right eye to let him know that I got it—both the message and his mission.

[footer]Photo credit: Crystal George ©2014[/footer]