“I’m just an ordinary guy, ignoring all the hype
I let it all pass me by
I got one life, one mic
But I’ll try, to always stay humble
With a fist in the sky and a bowl of brown rice.”

One of my favorite lyric lines comes from the song “Ordinary Guys” by Seattle-based hip-hop group Blue Scholars. In the song, Geologic, the lead MC of Blue Scholars, questions if the trials and challenges he faces being an underground artist is worth the pain and sacrifices.

It has almost been six years since I had joined a charismatic prayer group community, which had changed my life. Being part of a cause that is bigger than me has brought me my greatest joys and some of my greatest disappointments. In my life before joining community, I yearned for prestige and recognition out of fear that I would be thought of as an ordinary guy. While that yearning largely helped get me through college and helped set me off to a great start in my career, I soon realized that what had helped get me through a time in my life no longer works once problems in my professional and personal lives inevitably arose.

To help channel out my frustrations and worries, I turned to serving community as an outlet to make me feel useful. Over the years, serving brought me a sense of purpose that goes beyond striving to become a better person each day. Not only did I feel useful making a difference in people’s lives, but also I inherently found prestige and recognition in the form of compliments as a result for the hard work serving.

However, once my service in community eventually became an expected norm, the compliments came less often, leaving me feeling disappointed. There were times I felt unappreciated and taken for granted that I questioned if the trials serving community are worth the time and disappointment. Why am I always being asked to serve more? In essence, the extraordinary became ordinary.

A few months ago, I went on a month-long trip around the world to visit family and friends in different places. The first stop in my trip is Spain, where one of my best friends is from. One weekend, my friend took me to his hometown in the province of Córdoba to meet his family. During our stay in Córdoba, my friend’s girlfriend’s family hosted us at their place in the countryside, where they have a farm and plenty of wilderness to explore. They were very welcoming, serving me roasted lamb with potatoes and bread for lunch, torrijas¹ and sangria for snack, and of course, jamón for a later snack.

In between our feasts, we walked around their place, soaking in the crisp mountain air with the misty gray sky above us. The sounds of dogs barking and roosters crowing in the Spanish countryside took me to another world: a simpler world, one that is ordinary and ignores the hype. The children of my friend’s girlfriend’s family used their imaginations to entertain themselves when interacting with the farm animals and amongst themselves, rather than using iPads for amusement. Because of the simpler life in the countryside, conversations were more meaningful, despite the small language barrier between us.

On our drive back from Córdoba a few days later, my friend told me that his girlfriend’s family enjoyed having me as a guest at their place and would like to have me over the next time I visit them. Hearing what my friend told me was humbling, because I realized that although many of us yearn for the extraordinary, we often miss the ordinary which stands right in front of us. The ordinary is what actually matters more as we live our own lives each day. A genuine smile over not having one. Listening more instead of talking when conversing. Being polite instead of being a capullo. Little by little, those actions we take each day form our habits, which make up our true selves.

Upon returning from my trip, my community was in the midst of preparing for a weekend conference. I still questioned whether serving community is worth my time, because of the challenges I am having in my personal life. How can I help others when I cannot even help myself? One evening when praying the rosary, a poem that has been taped to the wall in my mother’s room for quite some time finally struck me. This poem, adapted by Saint Teresa of Calcutta, is posted at the orphanage she had served. The poem is called, “Do it Anyway”:

People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered. Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies. Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere, people may deceive you. Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight. Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous. Be happy anyway.
The good you do today will often be forgotten. Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough. Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God. It was never between you and them anyway.

Give your best anyway. It was never between you and them anyway. The final two stanzas struck a chord the most, because this whole time, the reward in serving was serving itself, not the inherent prestige and recognition from compliments, nor the personal growth that can come from serving.

Author Cheryl Strayed said it best when it comes to chasing prestige:

The word prestigious is derived from the Latin [word] praestigiae, which means “conjuror’s tricks.” Isn’t that interesting? This word we use to mean honorable and esteemed has its beginnings in a word that has everything to do with illusion, deception, and trickery.²

Finding extraordinary in the ordinary. Wanting what we already have. Trading expectation for appreciation.

In addition to a responsibility I had initially committed to for the weekend conference, I was later asked to help out the praise ministry. I was hesitant on taking more responsibilities at first, because past experiences in serving had made me cynical. However, I did not want to leave any regrets on the table for not doing my best when the opportunity to do so was there. As a result of those afternoons and evenings spent practicing with the praise ministry, I became close with many of the people in our ministry that they now hold a special place in my heart. The ordinary process of practicing and bonding with each other led to extraordinary results of singing praises for the weekend conference. The opportunities for friendships were always there to begin with; just add time and effort spent working together, and bonds are formed that go beyond service. Expectations of an ideal weekend were traded for appreciation of being in a situation to share my talents for something greater than myself. The weekend went as smooth as it could have gone, considering the circumstances.

There is nothing wrong with having high hopes and not wanting to settle for less in life, as long as we do not let those desires consume and define us, and as long as we do not lose sight of the fundamentals in living a good life:

Live simply, speak kindly, care deeply, and love generously.

So was all it worth the time serving? Geologic succinctly sums up what it means to be extraordinary as an “Ordinary Guy”: Always find time to get love and give it right back.

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¹ Torrijas is essentially French toast. Stale, sliced bread is soaked in milk and egg batter, and then fried. Cinnamon and powdered sugar are added to the fried bread when served. Torrijas are normally served during the Lenten season or to pregnant women, so this was a quite a treat eating it a few weeks after Easter.

² “Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on love and life from Dear Sugar,” by Cheryl Strayed (p. 263); Although Sugar’s advice is mostly from a liberal point of view in Strayed’s book, there are many good insights to ponder and consider, many of which made me laugh.