I believe that most of us, regularly, feel left out - misfits, we don't belong. I didn't learn the secret handshake or get the decoder ring that would make sense of this life. Others seem to be so confident, sure of themselves, "insiders" who know the ropes, old hands in a club from which we are excluded.
One of the ways we respond to this is to form our own club, "us four and no more," or join one that will have us. Here is one place where we are "in" and others are "out." The clubs can be formal or informal, in gatherings that are variously political, social, economic, cultural or religious. But the one thing they have in common is the principle of exclusion. Identity, or self worth, is achieved by excluding all but the chosen. The terrible price we pay for keeping all those others out, so we can savor the sweetness of being insiders, is a reduction of reality, a shrinkage of life.
Nowhere is the price more terrible than when it is paid in the cause of religion. But religion has a long history of doing just that, of reducing the immense mysteries of God to the respectability of club rules, of shrinking the vast human community to a "membership." But with God there are no outsiders.
Luke is a vigorous champion of the outsider. An outsider himself, the only Gentile in an all-Jewish cast of New Testament writers, he shows how Jesus includes those who were outsiders to the religious establishment of the day: women, common laborers (shepherds), the racially different (Samaritans), the poor, the infirm (lepers). He will not tolerate religion as a club. As Luke tells the story, all of us who have found ourselves on the outside looking in (haven't we all?) now find the doors wide open, found and welcomed by God in Jesus.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Being a Human Being
Human being is more a verb than a noun. Each of us is unfinished, incomplete, a work in progress. Perhaps it would be beneficial to add the word "Yet" to our assessment of ourselves and of others. She has not learned compassion . . . yet. He knows nothing of courage . . . yet. It changes everything. If life is a process, all our judgements are provisional. We can't judge something until it's over. No one has won or lost until the race is over.
In our instinctive attachments, our fear of change, and our desire for certainty and permanence, we may undercut the impermanence which is our greatest strength, our fundamental identity, recognized or not. The nature of life is change. All hope is based on that process.
A dandelion first appears as a clump of green leaves. After a time a bright yellow flower will top a stalk rising from the center. The white puff-ball that children (of all ages) delight in blowing to the breeze is another part of the process of being a dandelion. And what of the root that continues to grow beneath the surface? It is all a part of a process, a cycle as old as time. Nothing is forever, but change.
In our instinctive attachments, our fear of change, and our desire for certainty and permanence, we may undercut the impermanence which is our greatest strength, our fundamental identity, recognized or not. The nature of life is change. All hope is based on that process.
A dandelion first appears as a clump of green leaves. After a time a bright yellow flower will top a stalk rising from the center. The white puff-ball that children (of all ages) delight in blowing to the breeze is another part of the process of being a dandelion. And what of the root that continues to grow beneath the surface? It is all a part of a process, a cycle as old as time. Nothing is forever, but change.
Namaste - Stories of Cancer Survivors #3
We are, in some ways, defined as much by our potential as by the way that potential is expressed. There is a great difference between an acorn and a piece of wood exquisitely carved to look like an acorn, and the difference may not be readily apparent to the eye. But the difference is there even if the acorn has never had the opportunity to plant itself and become an oak.
Remembering its potential changes the way we think of an acorn, how we value it. The Hindu's use the greeting, "Namaste," rather than our non-committal, "Hello." A rough translation is, "Whatever your outer appearance, I see you and greet the soul in you." There is wisdom in such a way of relating to others. That wisdom may be in remembering that our perception of others is often reflected back to them in our presence and may affect them in ways we do not understand.
I am a cancer patient, and also a cancer survivor. Fourteen months now from the colon cancer. It was very simple to beat and all I need do is get follow-up exams. In the eight months since they diagnosed esophageal cancer I have experienced a genuine miracle. I'll share it someday. But that is now a non-issue. I am still in treatment for the little thing going on in my small intestines. But the docs say that I can expect to be around a long while.
In the past year I have been blessed with many new acquaintances and some genuine friendships have developed as a result of my disease. People I had grown close to have succumbed to their cancers. I have had to learn with statistical information being tossed at me as if it were gospel. Initially I was given a 16% five year survival. With a better treatment it became a five-year life expectancy of 82%, nine-year (since inception of the particular treatment used) expectancy of 78%. These are phenomenal odds! I wish lottery scratchers paid so well.
Through the process of treatment I have come to value life in a way I would not thought possible a few years ago. And I have come to value people in a new way. I long ago lost that exquisitely carved acorn that sat on my desk. I lost the desk and the job too. But today, today I stop and plant acorns when I find them. Namaste.
Remembering its potential changes the way we think of an acorn, how we value it. The Hindu's use the greeting, "Namaste," rather than our non-committal, "Hello." A rough translation is, "Whatever your outer appearance, I see you and greet the soul in you." There is wisdom in such a way of relating to others. That wisdom may be in remembering that our perception of others is often reflected back to them in our presence and may affect them in ways we do not understand.
I am a cancer patient, and also a cancer survivor. Fourteen months now from the colon cancer. It was very simple to beat and all I need do is get follow-up exams. In the eight months since they diagnosed esophageal cancer I have experienced a genuine miracle. I'll share it someday. But that is now a non-issue. I am still in treatment for the little thing going on in my small intestines. But the docs say that I can expect to be around a long while.
In the past year I have been blessed with many new acquaintances and some genuine friendships have developed as a result of my disease. People I had grown close to have succumbed to their cancers. I have had to learn with statistical information being tossed at me as if it were gospel. Initially I was given a 16% five year survival. With a better treatment it became a five-year life expectancy of 82%, nine-year (since inception of the particular treatment used) expectancy of 78%. These are phenomenal odds! I wish lottery scratchers paid so well.
Through the process of treatment I have come to value life in a way I would not thought possible a few years ago. And I have come to value people in a new way. I long ago lost that exquisitely carved acorn that sat on my desk. I lost the desk and the job too. But today, today I stop and plant acorns when I find them. Namaste.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Unconditional Happiness; Stories of Cancer Survivors #2
Alice's cancer was a particularly aggressive type. Surgery, chemotherapy, radiation - repeated treatments over a number of years - have been required. She chronicled her troubles in a journal, recording minute details of her aches and pains. She believed she needed to be symptom-free in order to enjoy life. Accordingly, she became reclusive, venturing out on only the rarest of occasions.
On one of those infrequent sojourns, Alice found herself too exhausted to get back home without a rest stop. She chose to seek refuge from the Sacramento summer's blistering heat in a movie theater. And she thoroughly enjoyed the movie. It surprised her to realize there was no reason she could not enjoy the show if she weren't pain free. She could still be happy in the moment.
Alice no longer journals her misery. There isn't enough time in a day to waste any of it.
On one of those infrequent sojourns, Alice found herself too exhausted to get back home without a rest stop. She chose to seek refuge from the Sacramento summer's blistering heat in a movie theater. And she thoroughly enjoyed the movie. It surprised her to realize there was no reason she could not enjoy the show if she weren't pain free. She could still be happy in the moment.
Alice no longer journals her misery. There isn't enough time in a day to waste any of it.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
This May Be Too Politically Charged For Some
- Michelle Malkin
October 18, 2010
While the White House may not believe in American exceptionalism, I do. And I'm thinking there's a whole bunch of people in Chile that would agree.
Regarding the mine rescue, did you know:
The guy that designed the rescue module was a NASA Engineer?
The Drill was made by Schramm Inc. from Pennsylvania.
The Drill Bits were made by Center Rock, Inc. located in Berlin, Pennsylvania.
The lead driller Jeff Hart and his team are from Denver, Colorado. They are on loan from the US Military in Afghanistan where they are drilling water wells for our Forward Operating Bases.
He spent the next 33 days on his feet, operating the drill that finally provided a way out Saturday for 33 trapped miners. "You have to feel through your feet what the drill is doing; it's a vibration you get so that you know what's happening," explained Hart.
Hart was called in from Afghanistan, "simply because he's the best" at drilling larger holes with the T130's wide-diameter drill bits, Stefanic said.
Standing before the levers, pressure meters and gauges on the T130's control panel, Hart and the rest of the team faced many challenges in drilling the shaft. At one point, the drill struck a metal support beam in the poorly mapped mine, shattering its hammers. Fresh equipment had to be flown in from the United States and progress was delayed for days as powerful magnets were lowered to pull out the pieces.
The mine's veins of gold and copper ran through quartzite with a high level of abrasive silica, rock so tough that it took all their expertise to keep the drill's hammers from curving off in unwanted directions. "It was horrible," said Center Rock President Brandon Fisher, exhausted after hardly sleeping during the effort.
Fisher, Stefanic and Hart called it the most difficult hole they had ever drilled, because of the lives at stake.
"If you're drilling for oil and you lose the hole, it's different. This time there's people down below," Stefanic said.
"We ruined some bits, worked through the problems as a team, and broke through," Hart said. "I'm very happy now."
Miners' relatives crowded around Hart on Saturday, hugging and posing for pictures with him as he walked down from the rescue operation into the tent camp where families had anxiously followed his work.
"He's become the hero of the day," said Dayana Olivares, whose friend Carlos Bugueno is one of the miners stuck below.
In a different day and age, Jeff Hart would be the most famous American in our country right now. He would be honored at the White House. Schoolchildren would learn of his skill and heroism. But because Jeff Hart works in an industry currently being demonized by (insert name for the clowns currently running our country) more people in Chile will celebrate this symbol of American greatness than in America itself.
- Michelle Malkin
October 18, 2010
While the White House may not believe in American exceptionalism, I do. And I'm thinking there's a whole bunch of people in Chile that would agree.
Regarding the mine rescue, did you know:
The guy that designed the rescue module was a NASA Engineer?
The Drill was made by Schramm Inc. from Pennsylvania.
The Drill Bits were made by Center Rock, Inc. located in Berlin, Pennsylvania.
The lead driller Jeff Hart and his team are from Denver, Colorado. They are on loan from the US Military in Afghanistan where they are drilling water wells for our Forward Operating Bases.
He spent the next 33 days on his feet, operating the drill that finally provided a way out Saturday for 33 trapped miners. "You have to feel through your feet what the drill is doing; it's a vibration you get so that you know what's happening," explained Hart.
Hart was called in from Afghanistan, "simply because he's the best" at drilling larger holes with the T130's wide-diameter drill bits, Stefanic said.
Standing before the levers, pressure meters and gauges on the T130's control panel, Hart and the rest of the team faced many challenges in drilling the shaft. At one point, the drill struck a metal support beam in the poorly mapped mine, shattering its hammers. Fresh equipment had to be flown in from the United States and progress was delayed for days as powerful magnets were lowered to pull out the pieces.
The mine's veins of gold and copper ran through quartzite with a high level of abrasive silica, rock so tough that it took all their expertise to keep the drill's hammers from curving off in unwanted directions. "It was horrible," said Center Rock President Brandon Fisher, exhausted after hardly sleeping during the effort.
Fisher, Stefanic and Hart called it the most difficult hole they had ever drilled, because of the lives at stake.
"If you're drilling for oil and you lose the hole, it's different. This time there's people down below," Stefanic said.
"We ruined some bits, worked through the problems as a team, and broke through," Hart said. "I'm very happy now."
Miners' relatives crowded around Hart on Saturday, hugging and posing for pictures with him as he walked down from the rescue operation into the tent camp where families had anxiously followed his work.
"He's become the hero of the day," said Dayana Olivares, whose friend Carlos Bugueno is one of the miners stuck below.
In a different day and age, Jeff Hart would be the most famous American in our country right now. He would be honored at the White House. Schoolchildren would learn of his skill and heroism. But because Jeff Hart works in an industry currently being demonized by (insert name for the clowns currently running our country) more people in Chile will celebrate this symbol of American greatness than in America itself.
- Michelle Malkin
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Attachment vs. Comittment
At the heart of attachment lies our personality, what the Buddhists refer to as the desire nature. My friend Robert, a recent Buddhist Monk, works diligently to help me understand some insights about myself and to free me from harmful attachments. But we do not see eye-to-eye on some key points. Our primary difference is in the area of commitment.
I believe that commitment comes from the soul. In life, and human relationships, attachment closes down options; commitment opens them up. We have become a society of attachments and most people can't tell the difference. Quick self-check: if attachment leads to entrapment - what relationship do I have with my cell phone, computer, truck... etc? I am (bet you are too) attached to things. The maintenance of these things takes an ever-increasing amount of my time. Commitment leads to greater degrees of freedom. How is that, you ask?
Both involve in the moment an experience of holding something against the flow or standing against temptation. Attachment is that automatic reflex to hang on, which may not always reflect our deepest good. Commitment is a conscious choice to align ourselves with our most genuine values and our sense of purpose. In so doing I have freedom from what does not matter. Therein lies my freedom to be myself. Got commitment?
I believe that commitment comes from the soul. In life, and human relationships, attachment closes down options; commitment opens them up. We have become a society of attachments and most people can't tell the difference. Quick self-check: if attachment leads to entrapment - what relationship do I have with my cell phone, computer, truck... etc? I am (bet you are too) attached to things. The maintenance of these things takes an ever-increasing amount of my time. Commitment leads to greater degrees of freedom. How is that, you ask?
Both involve in the moment an experience of holding something against the flow or standing against temptation. Attachment is that automatic reflex to hang on, which may not always reflect our deepest good. Commitment is a conscious choice to align ourselves with our most genuine values and our sense of purpose. In so doing I have freedom from what does not matter. Therein lies my freedom to be myself. Got commitment?
Stories From Cancer Survivors #1
"Before I got sick I was very certain of everything. I knew what I wanted and when I wanted it. Most of the time I knew what I had to do to get it, too. I walked around with my hand outstretched saying, 'I want an apple.' Many times life would give me a pomegranate instead. I was always so disappointed that I wouldn't look at it to see what it was. I don't think I was capable of seeing what it was. I had the world divided into two categories; 'Apple' and 'not-Apple.' If it wasn't an apple it was only a not-apple. I don't see things like that anymore. I like pomegranates."
Tuesday, September 7, 2010
Living vs. Surviving
A therapist whose counsel I was blessed with helped me to this realization: What we do in order to survive is often different from what we may need to do in order to live. In fact my survival skills and tools may work at cross purposes to my living. Worse yet, the practice of survival skills can become so ingrained I may forget how to live.
Many of my survival skills were about tolerance of the unacceptable in and around me; skills about coping with an out-of-control existence. Survival skills are largely about reducing the world's impact on me, and expediting my withdrawal from the world.
I have observed a phenomenon among many of the world's withdrawn. Through the loss of connection they often become more vulnerable emotionally; not all, but many do. Encampments of homeless men and women often demonstrate this in their protectiveness of their "family." At the heart of vulnerability is the ability to share that with others who are similarly vulnerable. This is basic even to recovery - one suffering soul can best reach another..
It is also reflected in the difference between "communication" and "connection." I blog. I Facebook. I often post excerpts from blogs on Facebook. That is all communication. But is not connection. In large part I am still learning about connection.
I suppose that listening to another person is the most powerful way to begin connecting. I have ceased to tell many people just how I am in recent months. It seems that no matter how I try to explain the experiences of cancer, homelessness, divorce or simply how I am right now, the pain I have dealt with somehow becomes a story about themselves. It is too lonely talking with them. The interruption to explain how they have had "something just like that happen" severs the connection.
In this journey I have come to some wonderful insights. Primary among them is my belief that our imperfection and our pain is what allows us closer. In drawing together, we share joy. At the very heart of intimacy lies vulnerability. I cannot trust someone with mine unless I see a matching vulnerability in them. In that way I know I will be free of judgement.
Equally important is this; I cannot become happy by ignoring suffering in myself and in others. The part of me that feels suffering is the same part that recognizes joy.
Many of my survival skills were about tolerance of the unacceptable in and around me; skills about coping with an out-of-control existence. Survival skills are largely about reducing the world's impact on me, and expediting my withdrawal from the world.
I have observed a phenomenon among many of the world's withdrawn. Through the loss of connection they often become more vulnerable emotionally; not all, but many do. Encampments of homeless men and women often demonstrate this in their protectiveness of their "family." At the heart of vulnerability is the ability to share that with others who are similarly vulnerable. This is basic even to recovery - one suffering soul can best reach another..
It is also reflected in the difference between "communication" and "connection." I blog. I Facebook. I often post excerpts from blogs on Facebook. That is all communication. But is not connection. In large part I am still learning about connection.
I suppose that listening to another person is the most powerful way to begin connecting. I have ceased to tell many people just how I am in recent months. It seems that no matter how I try to explain the experiences of cancer, homelessness, divorce or simply how I am right now, the pain I have dealt with somehow becomes a story about themselves. It is too lonely talking with them. The interruption to explain how they have had "something just like that happen" severs the connection.
In this journey I have come to some wonderful insights. Primary among them is my belief that our imperfection and our pain is what allows us closer. In drawing together, we share joy. At the very heart of intimacy lies vulnerability. I cannot trust someone with mine unless I see a matching vulnerability in them. In that way I know I will be free of judgement.
Equally important is this; I cannot become happy by ignoring suffering in myself and in others. The part of me that feels suffering is the same part that recognizes joy.
The Diagnosis is Not
the Prognosis
I went to Palo Alto last night. It was my first visit to the survivor's support group since David's passing. Truthfully, I only went back because I was hurting inside. Not physically but emotionally. I have become symptomatic again. And my old friend Mortal Terror has been knocking on my door.
I needed to hear from other survivors last night. I needed to hear someone who understands that a clinical diagnosis is not a prognosis tell me, "WE will walk you through this." The power of "WE" is absolutely amazing.
The past few years of my life have been about loss, gain and lessons learned. Almost everything I ever held dear was lost, surrendered, stripped away, sacrificed, or tossed aside. And in the midst of all that loss I found myself. There is a subtle shift required to differentiate that thought from finding myself in the middle of loss.
"WE" walks me through the steps of recovery. "WE" was there through 2 different cancers. "WE" continues to teach me about the value of letting things go and trusting in God. And "WE" will be there through whatever this recurrence of symptoms portends. I have been blessed by an abundance of "WE" in my life.. I am an unusually lucky man.
Over the course of time I have also gained this insight; while "WE" has always my best at heart, "They" do not. "WE" has taught me to take risks. "They" play it safe. "WE" showed me it was ok to take the hand extended to me and return it to others. "They" have been known to bite that hand.
I think successful recovery programs learned early to teach lessons about life; Life is a "WE" program.
I went to Palo Alto last night. It was my first visit to the survivor's support group since David's passing. Truthfully, I only went back because I was hurting inside. Not physically but emotionally. I have become symptomatic again. And my old friend Mortal Terror has been knocking on my door.
I needed to hear from other survivors last night. I needed to hear someone who understands that a clinical diagnosis is not a prognosis tell me, "WE will walk you through this." The power of "WE" is absolutely amazing.
The past few years of my life have been about loss, gain and lessons learned. Almost everything I ever held dear was lost, surrendered, stripped away, sacrificed, or tossed aside. And in the midst of all that loss I found myself. There is a subtle shift required to differentiate that thought from finding myself in the middle of loss.
"WE" walks me through the steps of recovery. "WE" was there through 2 different cancers. "WE" continues to teach me about the value of letting things go and trusting in God. And "WE" will be there through whatever this recurrence of symptoms portends. I have been blessed by an abundance of "WE" in my life.. I am an unusually lucky man.
Over the course of time I have also gained this insight; while "WE" has always my best at heart, "They" do not. "WE" has taught me to take risks. "They" play it safe. "WE" showed me it was ok to take the hand extended to me and return it to others. "They" have been known to bite that hand.
I think successful recovery programs learned early to teach lessons about life; Life is a "WE" program.
Must Be Present To Win
I found a discarded stub for a drawing that took place days ago. Date, time and location were crisply printed above the phrase, "Must Be Present To Win." I don't know what the prize or prizes may have been but that stub was my prize today.
I cannot live life at a distance. I have to be fully immersed in life to truly live it. In the past I was trained to be an observer of my surroundings. That is my major bone of contention with DBT as I studied it; the focus on observation rather than engagement.
My Christian faith has taught me of the need to reach beyond myself, to make contact with as much of God's creation as I can. In the process I have been exposed to some interesting observations of other faith systems.
In the Hindu culture exist several depictions of the "Shiva Nata Raja," or Dancing Shiva - dancing god. In one such statuette, Shiva dances on the back of a crouched man studying something in his hands. The man is so caught up in his introspective thought that he doesn't notice god dancing on his back.
I think we are here for a number of reasons, chief among them is to learn to love better. I have learned many of these lessons through both "winning" and "losing." All that must be done is to show up for class and participate in the discussion. You must be present to win.
I cannot live life at a distance. I have to be fully immersed in life to truly live it. In the past I was trained to be an observer of my surroundings. That is my major bone of contention with DBT as I studied it; the focus on observation rather than engagement.
My Christian faith has taught me of the need to reach beyond myself, to make contact with as much of God's creation as I can. In the process I have been exposed to some interesting observations of other faith systems.
In the Hindu culture exist several depictions of the "Shiva Nata Raja," or Dancing Shiva - dancing god. In one such statuette, Shiva dances on the back of a crouched man studying something in his hands. The man is so caught up in his introspective thought that he doesn't notice god dancing on his back.
I think we are here for a number of reasons, chief among them is to learn to love better. I have learned many of these lessons through both "winning" and "losing." All that must be done is to show up for class and participate in the discussion. You must be present to win.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Pain v. Comfort
Those who don't love themselves as they are rarely love life as it is either. Most of us prefer certain of life's experiences and deny or reject others. They remain unaware of the hidden things that may come wrapped in plain, or even ugly paper. In avoiding pain and seeking comfort at all cost we risk being left without intimacy or compassion. In rejecting change or risk we often cheat ourselves of the quest. In denying our suffering we may never know our strength or our greatness, or even that the love we have been given can be trusted.
Beyond comfort lies grace, mystery and adventure. I learned this early in my life, preferring a backpack to a Holiday Inn. In the rigors of extended treks with a short food supply I learned to test my mettle and developed an internal compass that was able to guide me; a moral compass. I learned that my own tendency to avoid the conventional allowed me to expand my consciousness - without the use of drugs. So what then happened?
In my experience, an accumulation of material goods created a shift in focus. I began to trust in the gifts and my ability to acquire them, rather than trust in the Giver. My compass began to point to something other than True North. And I followed along. As I began to drift off course a well intentioned friend asked me a hackneyed question; "If all your friends jumped off a bridge would you follow them?" "I don't know. Is there liquor and women at the bottom?"
What became a practice, the denial of my own beliefs, has been relatively simple to reverse; simple but not easy. It requires the practice and discipline of following my moral compass again. I have had to refocus my attention on what is, rather than what I would have things be. And I have had to re-examine my beliefs on physical and emotional pain.
Unexplained pain may direct my attention to an area of my life I have not acknowledged, something I may be afraid to know about myself or allow me to feel. It is regularly a cord that binds me to my integrity. Until I acknowledge that discomfort and its source I cannot know my own wholeness. What I believe about myself can then hold me hostage.
A wisdom from the Talmud teaches, "We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are." Time to take off the glasses.
Beyond comfort lies grace, mystery and adventure. I learned this early in my life, preferring a backpack to a Holiday Inn. In the rigors of extended treks with a short food supply I learned to test my mettle and developed an internal compass that was able to guide me; a moral compass. I learned that my own tendency to avoid the conventional allowed me to expand my consciousness - without the use of drugs. So what then happened?
In my experience, an accumulation of material goods created a shift in focus. I began to trust in the gifts and my ability to acquire them, rather than trust in the Giver. My compass began to point to something other than True North. And I followed along. As I began to drift off course a well intentioned friend asked me a hackneyed question; "If all your friends jumped off a bridge would you follow them?" "I don't know. Is there liquor and women at the bottom?"
What became a practice, the denial of my own beliefs, has been relatively simple to reverse; simple but not easy. It requires the practice and discipline of following my moral compass again. I have had to refocus my attention on what is, rather than what I would have things be. And I have had to re-examine my beliefs on physical and emotional pain.
Unexplained pain may direct my attention to an area of my life I have not acknowledged, something I may be afraid to know about myself or allow me to feel. It is regularly a cord that binds me to my integrity. Until I acknowledge that discomfort and its source I cannot know my own wholeness. What I believe about myself can then hold me hostage.
A wisdom from the Talmud teaches, "We do not see things as they are. We see them as we are." Time to take off the glasses.
Monday, August 30, 2010
Junkyard Wars
A television series of recent years was titled Junk Yard Wars. As I recall, two competing teams would build a device of some kind that had to do something, using only the the things found in a junkyard. I never really paid much attention, obviously. It's short life indicates few others did either.
But the concept now occurs to me that this is how Christ has built His church here on earth. Christ is building His kingdom using all the scrap people He can get His Hands on, so to speak. And he is doing it using my hands; continually fighting to win the prize at the end of the show.
For many years I used the 'hypocrisy of the pious' as my excuse to avoid any relationship with God. But sometime after He chose to save me from myself I began to realize that the entire church here on earth is filled with broken, damaged, discarded and recycled former reprobates like myself. Ok, not all of you fit the reprobate description. But my point remains the same.
While many people desire only the best, the unmarred things in life with which to build their legacy, the unblemished fruit for personal consumption, Christ is quietly gathering a raucous crowd of misfits around Himself. The God of those who have failed, the God of the unsuccessful is filling heaven with the lives of those broken here on earth. In my case, He continues to lift earth's saddest failure up to heaven's glory.
But the concept now occurs to me that this is how Christ has built His church here on earth. Christ is building His kingdom using all the scrap people He can get His Hands on, so to speak. And he is doing it using my hands; continually fighting to win the prize at the end of the show.
For many years I used the 'hypocrisy of the pious' as my excuse to avoid any relationship with God. But sometime after He chose to save me from myself I began to realize that the entire church here on earth is filled with broken, damaged, discarded and recycled former reprobates like myself. Ok, not all of you fit the reprobate description. But my point remains the same.
While many people desire only the best, the unmarred things in life with which to build their legacy, the unblemished fruit for personal consumption, Christ is quietly gathering a raucous crowd of misfits around Himself. The God of those who have failed, the God of the unsuccessful is filling heaven with the lives of those broken here on earth. In my case, He continues to lift earth's saddest failure up to heaven's glory.
On Judgements
Weeks ago I set out to expound on this topic - Judgements - to help me process some insights I had gleaned over the past year. In the process I learned that I am still a judgemental old fool at times, but a bit wiser for this exercise.
We judge others, others judge us, we judge ourselves. It is an everyday exercise in our diminishment of ourselves. Criticism and approval are each a form of judgement, and while approval may not bear the sting of criticism it often carries a subtler form of harm.
So much has been written of criticism and the damage it can do, especially to children, I don't feel compelled to add to it. I will state (a judgement I have made) that I believe we mis-use the word "criticism" and it's original intention. The Latin word from which we derive criticism, criticare, means "to construct." It is a verb, an action that indicates we are hepling to build someone up. As a society we regularly label our negative judgements of others as "constructive criticism," redundant and untrue. My observations (judgement) of critical people indicate the real intention of their judgement is to make themselves feel better by pointing out others' shortcomings.
That said, I am guilty of judging others, and society in general, with that observation. But in making this statement I must question my own motives. Am I trying to elevate myself at the expense of human-kind by pointing out that at east I recognize my judgemental nature?
This can quickly degenerate into an absurd argument; it is close to that now. I do not believe we can be free of judgements, to be merely observers in this world. And why would I want to be? The Buddhist teaching of non-judgement and non-interference, in my judgement, is only half correct. The ideal of non-judgement, merely observing this world and allowing it to pass through me is a great spiritual practice. I have studied DBT (check it out at http://www.dbtselfhelp.com/) for some time and found it to be of immense help. But as for non-interference? Frankly I judge it goes against our very human nature.
How can I sit idly by watching all that is just wrong around me and not attempt to affect some type of change. And yes, I am aware that is a judgement of wrong vs. right. If I know a friend is suffering in active addiction do I take a position of "non-interference?" Maybe you, but love of others compels I reach out and share what was given me. My faith requires I speak the truth in love." (Eph 4:15)
Approval, another type of judgement, is not without it's misuse. Children learn early on to seek the approval of their parents, siblings and friends. It is basic to human nature and an intricate part of the incentive/reward system of early childhood development. We carry that with us through life. We all (my judgement) want to feel that warm sense of satisfaction when others approve of or enjoy what we do or say. The reward of our childhood (praise, candy, coins, etc.) changes as we mature but the need for a reward remains.
That need is what fuels much of what I do; the praise of others. The pain comes in when it is withheld. In my childhood I felt like a sundial. Only the sunny hours were of importance. The withdrawl of approval, regardless of track record, creates an insecurity inside that in my case set up a desire to fill it with whoever or whatever I could.
I even judge myself for having come up with no answers in this exercise. But the questions and realizations I leave it with give me food for thought and areas of my life to work on.
We judge others, others judge us, we judge ourselves. It is an everyday exercise in our diminishment of ourselves. Criticism and approval are each a form of judgement, and while approval may not bear the sting of criticism it often carries a subtler form of harm.
So much has been written of criticism and the damage it can do, especially to children, I don't feel compelled to add to it. I will state (a judgement I have made) that I believe we mis-use the word "criticism" and it's original intention. The Latin word from which we derive criticism, criticare, means "to construct." It is a verb, an action that indicates we are hepling to build someone up. As a society we regularly label our negative judgements of others as "constructive criticism," redundant and untrue. My observations (judgement) of critical people indicate the real intention of their judgement is to make themselves feel better by pointing out others' shortcomings.
That said, I am guilty of judging others, and society in general, with that observation. But in making this statement I must question my own motives. Am I trying to elevate myself at the expense of human-kind by pointing out that at east I recognize my judgemental nature?
This can quickly degenerate into an absurd argument; it is close to that now. I do not believe we can be free of judgements, to be merely observers in this world. And why would I want to be? The Buddhist teaching of non-judgement and non-interference, in my judgement, is only half correct. The ideal of non-judgement, merely observing this world and allowing it to pass through me is a great spiritual practice. I have studied DBT (check it out at http://www.dbtselfhelp.com/) for some time and found it to be of immense help. But as for non-interference? Frankly I judge it goes against our very human nature.
How can I sit idly by watching all that is just wrong around me and not attempt to affect some type of change. And yes, I am aware that is a judgement of wrong vs. right. If I know a friend is suffering in active addiction do I take a position of "non-interference?" Maybe you, but love of others compels I reach out and share what was given me. My faith requires I speak the truth in love." (Eph 4:15)
Approval, another type of judgement, is not without it's misuse. Children learn early on to seek the approval of their parents, siblings and friends. It is basic to human nature and an intricate part of the incentive/reward system of early childhood development. We carry that with us through life. We all (my judgement) want to feel that warm sense of satisfaction when others approve of or enjoy what we do or say. The reward of our childhood (praise, candy, coins, etc.) changes as we mature but the need for a reward remains.
That need is what fuels much of what I do; the praise of others. The pain comes in when it is withheld. In my childhood I felt like a sundial. Only the sunny hours were of importance. The withdrawl of approval, regardless of track record, creates an insecurity inside that in my case set up a desire to fill it with whoever or whatever I could.
I even judge myself for having come up with no answers in this exercise. But the questions and realizations I leave it with give me food for thought and areas of my life to work on.
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Jesus Was a Liberal
His comment was upsetting me on at least two fronts. First, Paul doesn't believe in Jesus, thinks Christianity to be outdated and hypocritical, that Jesus teachings are irrelevant in light of science and social mores of today.
Still, my friend had no problem pulling Jesus' name out of a hip pocket during a discussion, as if his statement was some sort of trump card. I had a brief, private conversation with him later and listened to what he knows of Jesus. Some of his understanding is accurate. But it is not enough to determine Jesus' political leanings. I gave him a copy of the gospel of John that I had available. He didn't thank me but he did take it, and I said a silent prayer he would read it.
His attempt to co-opt Christ for a political agenda ceased to bother me as I realized he was partially correct. As I examine what I know of Jesus' life and teachings I can certainly understand someone concluding Jesus was a liberal. But then....
Jesus was most certainly counter-cultural. At a time when the petty criminal by today's standards might have been put to death, Jesus risked His reputation by openly associating with them, welcoming them to a new type of faith, faith based on forgiveness. Sounds pretty liberal to me. His parables developed characters that have influenced modern cinematic themes, yet would have shocked and outraged His audiences.
One such parable concerns a certain son we call the prodigal. Most audiences of today accept the teaching of forgiveness and welcoming the appropriately recalcitrant young man back into the family. After all, who has not gotten sideways with their family once or twice. But in the context of Jesus' day a son who behaved so shabbily toward his father would have been stoned to death under Mosaic law. Ok. That makes the forgiveness all the more touching.
Near the end of the story, however, Jesus' audience would have gasped in disbelief. "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son..." (Luke 15:20) To Jesus audience that was unthinkable. The patriarch NEVER ran. Period. This goes far beyond liberal forgiveness.
Jesus included women in his ministry at a time when women were mere possessions. In fact, any man of means owned several. By elevating them to positions in His ministry Jesus was making a statement about the value of women. Mary and Martha are referred to repeatedly throughout the gospels, and Jesus loved them. Yet he allowed their brother Lazarus to die, causing Mary and Martha great suffering, to accomplish His purpose. (John 11:9-12:1) I don't think that sounds liberal.
What else can I conclude about Jesus's leanings from His life and teachings? Jesus never mentioned homosexuals, and I think that is telling. I won't condemn if the Son of God doesn't. But He was firmly against divorce. "What God has joined together, let man not separate." (Matt 19:6). Jesus reached across racial borders. The parable of The Good Samaritan teaches charity across racial lines (the Samaritans, while Jews, were despised for their ethnic difference) but stops short of social welfare.
Jesus stopped the stoning of an adulterous woman (under Mosaic law a righteous kill) then commanded her to stop her misbehavior. Jesus regularly spoke out against adultery. This same Man who preached non-violence, liberal pacifism, "If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also." (Matt 5::39) was provoked to anger and, "... he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple area... he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables." (John 2:15) "How dare you turn my Father's house into a market" sounds conservative to me.
To return to my friend Paul's original statement, "Jesus was a liberal," I would also point out that since He rose from the dead the statement is grammatically incorrect. Jesus Is a liberal, I am convinced of that. But He has very conservative values.
Still, my friend had no problem pulling Jesus' name out of a hip pocket during a discussion, as if his statement was some sort of trump card. I had a brief, private conversation with him later and listened to what he knows of Jesus. Some of his understanding is accurate. But it is not enough to determine Jesus' political leanings. I gave him a copy of the gospel of John that I had available. He didn't thank me but he did take it, and I said a silent prayer he would read it.
His attempt to co-opt Christ for a political agenda ceased to bother me as I realized he was partially correct. As I examine what I know of Jesus' life and teachings I can certainly understand someone concluding Jesus was a liberal. But then....
Jesus was most certainly counter-cultural. At a time when the petty criminal by today's standards might have been put to death, Jesus risked His reputation by openly associating with them, welcoming them to a new type of faith, faith based on forgiveness. Sounds pretty liberal to me. His parables developed characters that have influenced modern cinematic themes, yet would have shocked and outraged His audiences.
One such parable concerns a certain son we call the prodigal. Most audiences of today accept the teaching of forgiveness and welcoming the appropriately recalcitrant young man back into the family. After all, who has not gotten sideways with their family once or twice. But in the context of Jesus' day a son who behaved so shabbily toward his father would have been stoned to death under Mosaic law. Ok. That makes the forgiveness all the more touching.
Near the end of the story, however, Jesus' audience would have gasped in disbelief. "But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son..." (Luke 15:20) To Jesus audience that was unthinkable. The patriarch NEVER ran. Period. This goes far beyond liberal forgiveness.
Jesus included women in his ministry at a time when women were mere possessions. In fact, any man of means owned several. By elevating them to positions in His ministry Jesus was making a statement about the value of women. Mary and Martha are referred to repeatedly throughout the gospels, and Jesus loved them. Yet he allowed their brother Lazarus to die, causing Mary and Martha great suffering, to accomplish His purpose. (John 11:9-12:1) I don't think that sounds liberal.
What else can I conclude about Jesus's leanings from His life and teachings? Jesus never mentioned homosexuals, and I think that is telling. I won't condemn if the Son of God doesn't. But He was firmly against divorce. "What God has joined together, let man not separate." (Matt 19:6). Jesus reached across racial borders. The parable of The Good Samaritan teaches charity across racial lines (the Samaritans, while Jews, were despised for their ethnic difference) but stops short of social welfare.
Jesus stopped the stoning of an adulterous woman (under Mosaic law a righteous kill) then commanded her to stop her misbehavior. Jesus regularly spoke out against adultery. This same Man who preached non-violence, liberal pacifism, "If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also." (Matt 5::39) was provoked to anger and, "... he made a whip out of cords, and drove all from the temple area... he scattered the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables." (John 2:15) "How dare you turn my Father's house into a market" sounds conservative to me.
To return to my friend Paul's original statement, "Jesus was a liberal," I would also point out that since He rose from the dead the statement is grammatically incorrect. Jesus Is a liberal, I am convinced of that. But He has very conservative values.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Emotional Healing
God did not give man words to conceal his feelings. - Jose Saramago
Some of the most powerful memories I have of my childhood are some of the most damaging. "Men don't cry," or "I'll give you something to cry about," did genuine emotional damage. I am still attempting to rewire the circuitry in my brain. I've spent many hours in therapy and read a large number of books to assist in correcting those thought process errors, and still I have trouble with tears at times. It is difficult to develop the emotional vulnerability required to be so.... human in front of others.
While my father was speaking tongue-in-cheek (at least I hope so) when he said, "There is no such thing as happiness; just lesser degrees of misery," it was said often enough to become a mantra of sorts. For decades I knew little or nothing of happiness while I fully understood that I was just not that miserable.
The process of emotional healing regularly exposes me to new ideas and new people and new theories on healing. A few new thoughts I have come to rely on are, "Don't believe everything you think" (thank you Maureen), "You don't have to have a point to have a point" from an animated feature released in the early '70's I believe, and "Not everything that counts can be counted" - Denis Burkit, M.D.
I am especially grateful for the Burkit quote which I translate as - the things that matter are not always quantifiable. What is the value of a hug? Ask someone who has just lost someone dear to them. What is the value of a twelve-step call? Ask the newly recovering alcoholic. What is the value of a well-timed word?
I was visiting friends in Northern California around the time my divorce became final. Those were days when my emotions were blacker than I could recall before. Distanced from my family, divorced, not much time in sobriety; I felt quite unloved and unlovable.
When it came time to leave, my friend asked his two year old daughter to say goodbye. Instead, she climbed into my arms, put her arms tight around my neck, looked into my face and said, "I want to go home with you." The flash flood that started in my eyes swept through my heart, cleanly slicing it open so the love of a child could fill it to overflow.
What is the value of our words? They are priceless.
Some of the most powerful memories I have of my childhood are some of the most damaging. "Men don't cry," or "I'll give you something to cry about," did genuine emotional damage. I am still attempting to rewire the circuitry in my brain. I've spent many hours in therapy and read a large number of books to assist in correcting those thought process errors, and still I have trouble with tears at times. It is difficult to develop the emotional vulnerability required to be so.... human in front of others.
While my father was speaking tongue-in-cheek (at least I hope so) when he said, "There is no such thing as happiness; just lesser degrees of misery," it was said often enough to become a mantra of sorts. For decades I knew little or nothing of happiness while I fully understood that I was just not that miserable.
The process of emotional healing regularly exposes me to new ideas and new people and new theories on healing. A few new thoughts I have come to rely on are, "Don't believe everything you think" (thank you Maureen), "You don't have to have a point to have a point" from an animated feature released in the early '70's I believe, and "Not everything that counts can be counted" - Denis Burkit, M.D.
I am especially grateful for the Burkit quote which I translate as - the things that matter are not always quantifiable. What is the value of a hug? Ask someone who has just lost someone dear to them. What is the value of a twelve-step call? Ask the newly recovering alcoholic. What is the value of a well-timed word?
I was visiting friends in Northern California around the time my divorce became final. Those were days when my emotions were blacker than I could recall before. Distanced from my family, divorced, not much time in sobriety; I felt quite unloved and unlovable.
When it came time to leave, my friend asked his two year old daughter to say goodbye. Instead, she climbed into my arms, put her arms tight around my neck, looked into my face and said, "I want to go home with you." The flash flood that started in my eyes swept through my heart, cleanly slicing it open so the love of a child could fill it to overflow.
What is the value of our words? They are priceless.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
For David
A New Trail
If you are seeking creative ideas, go out walking. Angels whisper to a man when he goes out for a walk. - Raymond Inman
I've not hiked this trail before. An overcast mid-August, mid-afternoon start at sea level begins in a cypress grove that quickly gives way to chaparral. Snowy white butterflies abound, their presence a lift to my spirit. The trail is surprisingly lined with wildflowers. It is late in the season for this display of whites, blushes, pinks, purples and golds, in a myriad of shapes and combinations. Black and yellow lumbering, bumbling bees service the beauty; their collective individual hums combining to the level of symphony with the nearby brook.
In waist-high chaparral a pair of doe raise their heads to eye me cautiously. I've never noticed before how their ears rotate as if on an axis, ever alert to sounds of danger while their eyes remain fixed. At about thirty feet distant they bound off. Birds of a type I have frequently seen before dart in and out of seed bearing shrubs.
Strolling up the gentle grade, sages and laurels are suddenly replaced by towering giants with burled bases. The carpet of sorrel spreads verdant before me. Lizards, ever present on the trail, scamper ahead, pausing to observe the threat I do not pose before darting into cover. The muted crunch of ground granite morphs into a delicate, powdery swish with my paces. The dense shade provided by the sky scraping redwoods cools and quiets everything, the delicate rustle overhead barely audible over the soothing watercourse I am following.
Bracken's, Chain and Sword ferns line my path, and a magenta berry I do not recognize. Several rustic footbridges take turns crossing the stream - I must learn its name - and I am buoyed deeper into this paradise. Far overhead blue sky is beating back the gray; I am moving inland and upland.
I follow the log across the stream again and as though stepping through a door I am outside the redwood grove. The trail climbs in earnest, now up steps of hewn and cut lumber; ancient steps often without earth contact, undercut by erosion, held suspended by steel rods.
Sage and laurel, warmed under clearing skies and stirred by the breeze assault my senses so thickly as to be palpable, mixed with the gritty taste of granite and dust. Climbing directly away from the riparian environs I am soon afforded a clear view to the west. The Pacific, still steely under clouds, is true to her name - peaceful.
Beginning to perspire with exertion I am grateful for the ocean breeze. The warming sun and cooling breeze are a kaleidoscope of sensations. This climb might be unbearable without that air.
Many, many steps pass before I look back again. I've not surrendered as much as a vertical inch in fourteen hundred feet or more. At one seeming crest the grade merely lessens, from precarious to heart stopping, and I must take rest at trail side. A squadron of vultures, great black wings and smaller red heads play follow-the-leader in seeking the thermal lift they need, passing mere feet from my seat.
A pair of young nurses are talking shop as they near my rock perch. My greeting to them is a chastisement: "Have you hiked all this way and found only work to discuss?" The male laughs and thanks me for the reality check. His partner mouths a silent, "Thank you." I think that's what she said.
Following a ridge upward to the next wall, well it was really steep, the stiffening breeze at my back is cooling and urging me on. Wooden steps had ceased to exist a number of rests ago. Their scattered remnants speak of a trail in disrepair. The path is often ambiguous, fanning into a mosaic of grasses and dirt and coming back together, repeatedly. As I cross a saddle at intersecting ridges the trail is worn into a gully by foot traffic and runoff so deep and sheer edged as to look cut into the decomposed granite by a backhoe.
Knowing full well that the trail will run out of up, more sooner than later, I press on toward the promise of the summit - a breathtaking view of the Big Sur coast northward. Nearing the top a rock cairn entices me; stop, rest, breathe, sip, write.
By now I know the summit will not bring the promised view. As I near, the fog is cascading over the peak and ridge before me and threatening to obscure the reason for this trek. But this day has not at all been a waste of time. Through all the wondrous sights, sounds, smells, tastes and textures of the day I have been praising the God who made me for His creations, and my having the ability to enjoy and record them.
What is the sound of the wind? The rustle of the leaves overhead, on a micro level is the physical interaction of entities, of beings in contact with others. God reveals His plan in odd ways at times. He designed us to live in relationship with each other and with Him. Today He is that wind, stirring my interaction with those around me; moving the branch I am attached to into proximity with others, individual interactions creating a rustling in my being.
I learned this morning of the passing of a friend, another soul called home earlier than I was ready to face. David, the rustle you created has been stilled. I am sad I was not there to see your leaf twirl to earth, to catch it and lay it gently to rest. You were a great comfort to me through the worst of my fears about the cancer that we shared. And I miss you dearly. I am jealous, too. You now know God's peace and I still seek it.
If you are seeking creative ideas, go out walking. Angels whisper to a man when he goes out for a walk. - Raymond Inman
I've not hiked this trail before. An overcast mid-August, mid-afternoon start at sea level begins in a cypress grove that quickly gives way to chaparral. Snowy white butterflies abound, their presence a lift to my spirit. The trail is surprisingly lined with wildflowers. It is late in the season for this display of whites, blushes, pinks, purples and golds, in a myriad of shapes and combinations. Black and yellow lumbering, bumbling bees service the beauty; their collective individual hums combining to the level of symphony with the nearby brook.
In waist-high chaparral a pair of doe raise their heads to eye me cautiously. I've never noticed before how their ears rotate as if on an axis, ever alert to sounds of danger while their eyes remain fixed. At about thirty feet distant they bound off. Birds of a type I have frequently seen before dart in and out of seed bearing shrubs.
Strolling up the gentle grade, sages and laurels are suddenly replaced by towering giants with burled bases. The carpet of sorrel spreads verdant before me. Lizards, ever present on the trail, scamper ahead, pausing to observe the threat I do not pose before darting into cover. The muted crunch of ground granite morphs into a delicate, powdery swish with my paces. The dense shade provided by the sky scraping redwoods cools and quiets everything, the delicate rustle overhead barely audible over the soothing watercourse I am following.
Bracken's, Chain and Sword ferns line my path, and a magenta berry I do not recognize. Several rustic footbridges take turns crossing the stream - I must learn its name - and I am buoyed deeper into this paradise. Far overhead blue sky is beating back the gray; I am moving inland and upland.
I follow the log across the stream again and as though stepping through a door I am outside the redwood grove. The trail climbs in earnest, now up steps of hewn and cut lumber; ancient steps often without earth contact, undercut by erosion, held suspended by steel rods.
Sage and laurel, warmed under clearing skies and stirred by the breeze assault my senses so thickly as to be palpable, mixed with the gritty taste of granite and dust. Climbing directly away from the riparian environs I am soon afforded a clear view to the west. The Pacific, still steely under clouds, is true to her name - peaceful.
Beginning to perspire with exertion I am grateful for the ocean breeze. The warming sun and cooling breeze are a kaleidoscope of sensations. This climb might be unbearable without that air.
Many, many steps pass before I look back again. I've not surrendered as much as a vertical inch in fourteen hundred feet or more. At one seeming crest the grade merely lessens, from precarious to heart stopping, and I must take rest at trail side. A squadron of vultures, great black wings and smaller red heads play follow-the-leader in seeking the thermal lift they need, passing mere feet from my seat.
A pair of young nurses are talking shop as they near my rock perch. My greeting to them is a chastisement: "Have you hiked all this way and found only work to discuss?" The male laughs and thanks me for the reality check. His partner mouths a silent, "Thank you." I think that's what she said.
Following a ridge upward to the next wall, well it was really steep, the stiffening breeze at my back is cooling and urging me on. Wooden steps had ceased to exist a number of rests ago. Their scattered remnants speak of a trail in disrepair. The path is often ambiguous, fanning into a mosaic of grasses and dirt and coming back together, repeatedly. As I cross a saddle at intersecting ridges the trail is worn into a gully by foot traffic and runoff so deep and sheer edged as to look cut into the decomposed granite by a backhoe.
Knowing full well that the trail will run out of up, more sooner than later, I press on toward the promise of the summit - a breathtaking view of the Big Sur coast northward. Nearing the top a rock cairn entices me; stop, rest, breathe, sip, write.
By now I know the summit will not bring the promised view. As I near, the fog is cascading over the peak and ridge before me and threatening to obscure the reason for this trek. But this day has not at all been a waste of time. Through all the wondrous sights, sounds, smells, tastes and textures of the day I have been praising the God who made me for His creations, and my having the ability to enjoy and record them.
What is the sound of the wind? The rustle of the leaves overhead, on a micro level is the physical interaction of entities, of beings in contact with others. God reveals His plan in odd ways at times. He designed us to live in relationship with each other and with Him. Today He is that wind, stirring my interaction with those around me; moving the branch I am attached to into proximity with others, individual interactions creating a rustling in my being.
I learned this morning of the passing of a friend, another soul called home earlier than I was ready to face. David, the rustle you created has been stilled. I am sad I was not there to see your leaf twirl to earth, to catch it and lay it gently to rest. You were a great comfort to me through the worst of my fears about the cancer that we shared. And I miss you dearly. I am jealous, too. You now know God's peace and I still seek it.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Abandonment
I have been obsessed with the idea of living a normal life. That life, for most of mine, has been defined by what I call the "White Picket Dream"; a nine to five job, Monday through Friday, maybe a bit of time and a half on Saturday, going to church on Sunday morning, and a barbecue in the afternoon. There are lawns to mow, faucets in need of repair, some flowers to plant and a garage that constantly needs to be reorganized and swept.
A wife who loves me, my wife, greets me with a kiss at the end of the day. We cook dinner together, talking of our day. Dishes get done, hopes and dreams are shared; tomorrow begins with setting up the morning's coffee before slipping under the covers... and drifting off to dream of how wonderful my life truly is. It's a fairy tale existence, idyllic and much romanticized, and it never really happened that way for any length of time.
Reality intrudes loudly on that vision of normal life. The money doesn't quite go far enough to pay the bills, cover all the needs, and provide for a few wants; and differing opinions of wants versus needs create discord. The dog tears out some of the flowers and gophers get the rest. Dinner get burned because of a disagreement over how to handle the children's behavior and the need for medical equipment disrupts the the bedtime routine. A surrealistic reality supplants the dream.
In forsaking my white picket dream I find freedom. These past years of struggle and loss have taught me that life is what was going on while I was seeking what I wanted. I missed out on some really god things, lost many others and threw the rest away.
That dream of hearth and home still exists, however. It is tempered now by an acceptance of the reality, truth. By abandoning the safe comfort of certainties in favor of truth I am rewarded by more realistic dreams. Relationships with friends and family are rooted in the things that matter to each of us. By abandoning my selfish desires in favor of being 'others focused' I am also able to more quickly spot the people who cling to selfish desires, pray for them and move to windward, often the harder path.
By embracing my struggles I have been set free of worry about cause, effect and direction this life takes me. I often hear in meetings that we must live life on life's terms. I disagree. I need to live life on God's terms. I am certain to write more on that later.
A wife who loves me, my wife, greets me with a kiss at the end of the day. We cook dinner together, talking of our day. Dishes get done, hopes and dreams are shared; tomorrow begins with setting up the morning's coffee before slipping under the covers... and drifting off to dream of how wonderful my life truly is. It's a fairy tale existence, idyllic and much romanticized, and it never really happened that way for any length of time.
Reality intrudes loudly on that vision of normal life. The money doesn't quite go far enough to pay the bills, cover all the needs, and provide for a few wants; and differing opinions of wants versus needs create discord. The dog tears out some of the flowers and gophers get the rest. Dinner get burned because of a disagreement over how to handle the children's behavior and the need for medical equipment disrupts the the bedtime routine. A surrealistic reality supplants the dream.
In forsaking my white picket dream I find freedom. These past years of struggle and loss have taught me that life is what was going on while I was seeking what I wanted. I missed out on some really god things, lost many others and threw the rest away.
That dream of hearth and home still exists, however. It is tempered now by an acceptance of the reality, truth. By abandoning the safe comfort of certainties in favor of truth I am rewarded by more realistic dreams. Relationships with friends and family are rooted in the things that matter to each of us. By abandoning my selfish desires in favor of being 'others focused' I am also able to more quickly spot the people who cling to selfish desires, pray for them and move to windward, often the harder path.
By embracing my struggles I have been set free of worry about cause, effect and direction this life takes me. I often hear in meetings that we must live life on life's terms. I disagree. I need to live life on God's terms. I am certain to write more on that later.
Love Letters From God
When a shipwright lays a keel he is not doing so to leave it on the scaffolding. His thoughts are of seeing it move across the seas, sails full, safely carrying through strong winds, even gales and hurricanes. If he is not thinking of the harshest of conditions he is a poor shipbuilder.
In that same way, when God made me a believer He had every intention of making me capable of withstanding life's difficulties. To do so, He was going to allow me to be tested. Sure, He could have just spoken into me all the traits and values He desires to see. But that would do away with what He wanted me to have most - Free Will.
I fall back on an earlier thought here; love is a choice. God wants me to choose to love Him. He has made me hundreds of promises to lure me to Him and I've written of some. But a reality of life is that the fulfillment of His promises does not always bring immediate comfort. The poem Easy to Love http://evenmoreclueless.blogspot.com/2010/07/it-is-easy-to-love-him-when-blue-is-in.html touches on this but stops short of what I truly believe; that God will go to any length necessary to fully develop me.
How can we have rain without clouds? And the blacker and denser the clouds the more life-giving water they contain. Anyone who has pruned roses knows that cutting the canes back severely produces the showiest blooms in the future. And God is certainly going to do in my life what I need done. My Lord's love letters often come in dark envelopes.
I can not estimate the great debt I owe to suffering and pain. If not for them what capacity would I have for any virtues? Where would my faith be if it had not been tested? What patience could I have were there nothing to endure? Without difficult experiences is compassion or empathy possible?
"He has given us his very great and precious promises." (2 Peter 1:4) He delivered on His promise to be with me through my difficulties and I am a man changed to the molecular level. To be free of active addiction would have been more than enough. But He went so much further. Because of compassion I am able to find joy in serving and helping others. Because of patience I am able to bear my burdens without being a burden. Because of faith I can believe. And because of love, I can love.
My old life now seems as dim and unsure as a dream remembered days later.
In that same way, when God made me a believer He had every intention of making me capable of withstanding life's difficulties. To do so, He was going to allow me to be tested. Sure, He could have just spoken into me all the traits and values He desires to see. But that would do away with what He wanted me to have most - Free Will.
I fall back on an earlier thought here; love is a choice. God wants me to choose to love Him. He has made me hundreds of promises to lure me to Him and I've written of some. But a reality of life is that the fulfillment of His promises does not always bring immediate comfort. The poem Easy to Love http://evenmoreclueless.blogspot.com/2010/07/it-is-easy-to-love-him-when-blue-is-in.html touches on this but stops short of what I truly believe; that God will go to any length necessary to fully develop me.
How can we have rain without clouds? And the blacker and denser the clouds the more life-giving water they contain. Anyone who has pruned roses knows that cutting the canes back severely produces the showiest blooms in the future. And God is certainly going to do in my life what I need done. My Lord's love letters often come in dark envelopes.
I can not estimate the great debt I owe to suffering and pain. If not for them what capacity would I have for any virtues? Where would my faith be if it had not been tested? What patience could I have were there nothing to endure? Without difficult experiences is compassion or empathy possible?
"He has given us his very great and precious promises." (2 Peter 1:4) He delivered on His promise to be with me through my difficulties and I am a man changed to the molecular level. To be free of active addiction would have been more than enough. But He went so much further. Because of compassion I am able to find joy in serving and helping others. Because of patience I am able to bear my burdens without being a burden. Because of faith I can believe. And because of love, I can love.
My old life now seems as dim and unsure as a dream remembered days later.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
On Love - Revisited
For giggles I Googled "love". One billion, 900 ten million results delivered in under a quarter of one second. Wow! What an amazing tool. Nearly two Billion websites of mostly useless, trite misinformation. A cursory scan of selections, not wasting time in opening any, was horrifying. The overwhelming majority appear to be links to porn sites. One of my own blog posts is there. There is even a 'Love Calculator' available to determine the chance of a successful relationship between two people. I didn't score well.
Turning to my trusted dictionary I find love nestled between lovat and love affair. I learn that love is both a noun and a verb. Excerpts inform me that, among other things, love is "a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person," "a feeling of warm personal attachment." All well and good.
Wikipedia does not disagree and expands further in defining love. "Love is the emotion of strong affection and personal attachment[1] experienced by certain animals, most notably humans. In philosophical context, love is a virtue representing all of human kindness, compassion, and affection. In religious context, love is not just a virtue, but the basis for all being ("God is love"[2]), and the foundation for all divine law (Golden Rule)."
I learn that there have been eleven motion pictures, three dozen TV series episodes, a Greek Soap Opera, twenty-two albums, twenty-seven singles, two bands, one record label, and a "Love 97.2 FM" - a Singaporean radio station, all named Love.
Love appears in the title of thousands of books, essays and articles, annually. Numerous talk shows center on the topic and a myriad of talk show hosts, on radio and television, are self-proclaimed experts on the topic. With such a wealth of information available, what have I to add? Little of significance, I am afraid. Yet I am compelled to throw my own twopence into the pot.
There is no end to the way we can define love. But the definition of a topic does not of necessity provide me with the ability to perform. My history of failed marriages is proof of an inability to follow through on the promise. I could read dozens of books, articles and papers on heart transplants and not be able to complete one successfully.
And to be able to wax poetic on a topic no more qualifies me as an expert than it gives me the ability to fly unaided. I may, however, be sneaking up on the intermediate level simply by knowing what love is not.
Turning to my trusted dictionary I find love nestled between lovat and love affair. I learn that love is both a noun and a verb. Excerpts inform me that, among other things, love is "a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person," "a feeling of warm personal attachment." All well and good.
Wikipedia does not disagree and expands further in defining love. "Love is the emotion of strong affection and personal attachment[1] experienced by certain animals, most notably humans. In philosophical context, love is a virtue representing all of human kindness, compassion, and affection. In religious context, love is not just a virtue, but the basis for all being ("God is love"[2]), and the foundation for all divine law (Golden Rule)."
I learn that there have been eleven motion pictures, three dozen TV series episodes, a Greek Soap Opera, twenty-two albums, twenty-seven singles, two bands, one record label, and a "Love 97.2 FM" - a Singaporean radio station, all named Love.
Love appears in the title of thousands of books, essays and articles, annually. Numerous talk shows center on the topic and a myriad of talk show hosts, on radio and television, are self-proclaimed experts on the topic. With such a wealth of information available, what have I to add? Little of significance, I am afraid. Yet I am compelled to throw my own twopence into the pot.
There is no end to the way we can define love. But the definition of a topic does not of necessity provide me with the ability to perform. My history of failed marriages is proof of an inability to follow through on the promise. I could read dozens of books, articles and papers on heart transplants and not be able to complete one successfully.
And to be able to wax poetic on a topic no more qualifies me as an expert than it gives me the ability to fly unaided. I may, however, be sneaking up on the intermediate level simply by knowing what love is not.
Monday, August 9, 2010
On Love
Often, what we call love is merely desire. That desire is to awaken in another the responsibility of flattering the self of which we are uncertain. It is essentially the encounter of two weaknesses. This is particularly true of relationships that are crippled from the start by a confusion of sex and love. That which I want to awaken in others is generally a fulfillment of my sexual needs. To be certain, sex plays a role in love, but as a society we have come to place too great an importance on it.
To truly love another human being is an amazing gift to myself. But to accomplish this, my 'self' must first be put to death. I must have the self-less-ness to love that person exactly as I want to be loved. And this presupposes that I am emotionally developed enough to truly know my own needs. My consuming desire must be to know, accept, appreciate, to cherish and honor another soul exactly as they are - not as I wish they were, or presently might be, or even what I might make them to be. Especially not what I might make them to be.
To truly love I must understand that at any given moment there may be many unlovable traits or actions in another person. These shortcomings may last for a moment, a minute, a time, a season or a lifetime. But if I truly love I will find the desire to overlook them, not the wish to change them. To quote Wm. Shakespeare, "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds."
Lest you think I have not thought this proposition through, there may well be reasons I should not keep someone I love in my life by simply overlooking those things that are detrimental to my own well being. But these must be looked at on a case-by-case basis. An abusive relationship, or a relationship where one's beloved has begun to engage in unacceptable behaviors require deep thought and prayer for guidance.
Love seeks to make someone else happy, not to seek happiness. My happiness (in a loving relationship) must stem from the delight I receive at seeing her joy. If I am causal in that joy I can never expect or demand that it be returned. There is no quid pro quo in love. Love is a spendthrift; it leaves the calculator at home and may always be awash in red ink.
To love someone is to take a risk. It is to say, "I may be crushed by this but I will do it regardless of outcome." Love cannot protect itself. To do so would be to offer less than my whole, leaving me uncommitted. Contrary to modern opinion, any emotion that protects itself can not be complete. To stand with one foot on each side of the line is to live only partial experiences.
I point to the example of my Savior who preached that we should love and care for each other until the day He died. I am a realist, too. I don't claim to have much mastery of the selfless love Christ demonstrated. Agape - the Greek word for what Christ demonstrated - will always be a better concept than reality. But it is not an excuse for failing to try.
I think fear holds back most people who have yet to experience genuinely abiding love; fear of the unknown, fear of the pain of rejection, fear of being unable to fulfill our side of the contract - for love is an emotional contract, eternally binding. It could never be reduced to paper or even fully verbalized. It is not legally binding, but it does tie us to a commitment, to a covenant relationship.
And at the end, the only love which has lasted is the love which has endured everything; every disappointment, every failure, every betrayal, every sorrow, a love that has accepted the reality that in the end, as at the beginning, there is no desire so deep as the simple need to be known, and loved and accepted exactly as we are.
To truly love another human being is an amazing gift to myself. But to accomplish this, my 'self' must first be put to death. I must have the self-less-ness to love that person exactly as I want to be loved. And this presupposes that I am emotionally developed enough to truly know my own needs. My consuming desire must be to know, accept, appreciate, to cherish and honor another soul exactly as they are - not as I wish they were, or presently might be, or even what I might make them to be. Especially not what I might make them to be.
To truly love I must understand that at any given moment there may be many unlovable traits or actions in another person. These shortcomings may last for a moment, a minute, a time, a season or a lifetime. But if I truly love I will find the desire to overlook them, not the wish to change them. To quote Wm. Shakespeare, "Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds."
Lest you think I have not thought this proposition through, there may well be reasons I should not keep someone I love in my life by simply overlooking those things that are detrimental to my own well being. But these must be looked at on a case-by-case basis. An abusive relationship, or a relationship where one's beloved has begun to engage in unacceptable behaviors require deep thought and prayer for guidance.
Love seeks to make someone else happy, not to seek happiness. My happiness (in a loving relationship) must stem from the delight I receive at seeing her joy. If I am causal in that joy I can never expect or demand that it be returned. There is no quid pro quo in love. Love is a spendthrift; it leaves the calculator at home and may always be awash in red ink.
To love someone is to take a risk. It is to say, "I may be crushed by this but I will do it regardless of outcome." Love cannot protect itself. To do so would be to offer less than my whole, leaving me uncommitted. Contrary to modern opinion, any emotion that protects itself can not be complete. To stand with one foot on each side of the line is to live only partial experiences.
I point to the example of my Savior who preached that we should love and care for each other until the day He died. I am a realist, too. I don't claim to have much mastery of the selfless love Christ demonstrated. Agape - the Greek word for what Christ demonstrated - will always be a better concept than reality. But it is not an excuse for failing to try.
I think fear holds back most people who have yet to experience genuinely abiding love; fear of the unknown, fear of the pain of rejection, fear of being unable to fulfill our side of the contract - for love is an emotional contract, eternally binding. It could never be reduced to paper or even fully verbalized. It is not legally binding, but it does tie us to a commitment, to a covenant relationship.
And at the end, the only love which has lasted is the love which has endured everything; every disappointment, every failure, every betrayal, every sorrow, a love that has accepted the reality that in the end, as at the beginning, there is no desire so deep as the simple need to be known, and loved and accepted exactly as we are.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Love Pains
A mighty pain to love it is,
and 'tis a pain that pain to miss;
but of all the pains, the greatest pain
it is to love but love in vain.
and 'tis a pain that pain to miss;
but of all the pains, the greatest pain
it is to love but love in vain.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
My Questions
Could we recognize day
were there no night?
Would the painters craft appeal to eye
without shade on land or sea?
Can we ever feel pleasure
unless we know pain?
Should we know the meaning of happiness
or believe the day will dawn bright,
If we'd never known what it was to grieve,
nor gazed on the dark of night?
were there no night?
Would the painters craft appeal to eye
without shade on land or sea?
Can we ever feel pleasure
unless we know pain?
Should we know the meaning of happiness
or believe the day will dawn bright,
If we'd never known what it was to grieve,
nor gazed on the dark of night?
Leisure of Mind
It's wistful,
the leisure of mind, to lean
on a fencepost and simply look,
and not feel the need to press
for a subtext,
being so rare.
the leisure of mind, to lean
on a fencepost and simply look,
and not feel the need to press
for a subtext,
being so rare.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
He is Not Armed, But Very Dangerous
Following church the other day, I went to the beach to digest the message. I read more from my bible, following rabbit trail references to yet other passages, attempting to discern what God wanted me to hear today. The pastor's message had been excellent, yes, but I was left feeling there was more to the story, feeling that what I needed to hear was opposite a thin veil, slightly obscured. As often happens I drifted off to sleep while meditating on my reading.
"He is not armed, but very dangerous." The man outside my truck was speaking excitedly into a device I couldn't see. I wondered if I were dreaming, the event taking on an immediate surreal air. While I slumbered, law enforcement had descended on the area. Sitting now, inside the protective enclave of my truck canopy/home I watched seven or eight men descend rapidly to the beach and out of sight behind dunes of sand and grasses. Minute later a defiant young man in wetsuit and handcuffs was led to a waiting van and whisked away.
In The Chronicles of Narnia, a C.S.Lewis character asks of Aslan, "Is he safe?" The reply, "No. But he's good", helps to gel my thoughts. Well before His ministry began, even before His birth, Jesus was not a safe person to hang out with. But He was good, very good; not armed but very dangerous.
An encounter with Jesus is going to change your life, eternally, and the lives of those around you. John the Baptist learned this, his first encounter with the Christ taking place while still in the womb. "When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the baby leaped in the womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit." (Luke 1:41)
Many today envision John as a wildman, dressing in camelhair clothing and leathers, eating wild honey and locusts. Yet in the context of his time, John was a successful prophet and minister, building a sizable following - his livelihood. John spent his life as a signpost pointing the way to the coming of One he felt unworthy to serve.
When the time came for Jesus to begin His ministry on earth, John stepped aside, instructing his followers, his meal-ticket as it were, to follow after Jesus. Were Jesus to appear today I wonder how many pastors and ministers would graciously preach that their flocks, and incomes, should hurry after Him? I wish I felt that most would.
Near the end of John's life, a brutal beheading, Jesus began to speak to the crowd about John; "What did you go out into the desert to see? A reed swayed by the wind? If not, what did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? No, those who wear fine clothes are in king's palaces. Then what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet." (Matt 11:7-9)
John never forgot Who was to come and his service was praised by the Master. That sounds like a beautiful eulogy for someone who was similarly not armed, yet very dangerous.
"He is not armed, but very dangerous." The man outside my truck was speaking excitedly into a device I couldn't see. I wondered if I were dreaming, the event taking on an immediate surreal air. While I slumbered, law enforcement had descended on the area. Sitting now, inside the protective enclave of my truck canopy/home I watched seven or eight men descend rapidly to the beach and out of sight behind dunes of sand and grasses. Minute later a defiant young man in wetsuit and handcuffs was led to a waiting van and whisked away.
In The Chronicles of Narnia, a C.S.Lewis character asks of Aslan, "Is he safe?" The reply, "No. But he's good", helps to gel my thoughts. Well before His ministry began, even before His birth, Jesus was not a safe person to hang out with. But He was good, very good; not armed but very dangerous.
An encounter with Jesus is going to change your life, eternally, and the lives of those around you. John the Baptist learned this, his first encounter with the Christ taking place while still in the womb. "When Elizabeth heard Mary's greeting, the baby leaped in the womb, and Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit." (Luke 1:41)
Many today envision John as a wildman, dressing in camelhair clothing and leathers, eating wild honey and locusts. Yet in the context of his time, John was a successful prophet and minister, building a sizable following - his livelihood. John spent his life as a signpost pointing the way to the coming of One he felt unworthy to serve.
When the time came for Jesus to begin His ministry on earth, John stepped aside, instructing his followers, his meal-ticket as it were, to follow after Jesus. Were Jesus to appear today I wonder how many pastors and ministers would graciously preach that their flocks, and incomes, should hurry after Him? I wish I felt that most would.
Near the end of John's life, a brutal beheading, Jesus began to speak to the crowd about John; "What did you go out into the desert to see? A reed swayed by the wind? If not, what did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? No, those who wear fine clothes are in king's palaces. Then what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet." (Matt 11:7-9)
John never forgot Who was to come and his service was praised by the Master. That sounds like a beautiful eulogy for someone who was similarly not armed, yet very dangerous.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Political Commentary
I have never before published anything of a political nature on my blog. But this is too good to pass. I do so love a good play on words.
John's Chicken Farm:
John was in the egg business. He had several hundred young layers (hens), called 'pullets', and ten roosters to fertilize them. He kept records, and any rooster not performing went into the soup pot and was replaced.
This took a lot of time, so he bought some tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each bell had a different tone, so he could tell from a distance, which rooster was performing. Now, he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report by just listening to the bells.
John's favorite rooster, Obama, was a very fine specimen, but this morning he noticed Obama's bell hadn't rung at all! When he went to investigate, he saw the other roosters were busy chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing, but the pullets, hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover.
To John's amazement, Obama had thought of a way to do it without work, he had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring. He'd sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one. John was so proud of Obama, he entered him in the Chicago County Fair and he became an overnight sensation among the judges.
The result was the judges not only awarded Obama the No Bell Piece Prize but they also awarded him the Pullet Surprise as well.
Clearly Obama was a politician. Who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most highly coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the populace and screwing them when they weren't paying attention.
Vote carefully next fall, the bells are not always audible.
John's Chicken Farm:
John was in the egg business. He had several hundred young layers (hens), called 'pullets', and ten roosters to fertilize them. He kept records, and any rooster not performing went into the soup pot and was replaced.
This took a lot of time, so he bought some tiny bells and attached them to his roosters. Each bell had a different tone, so he could tell from a distance, which rooster was performing. Now, he could sit on the porch and fill out an efficiency report by just listening to the bells.
John's favorite rooster, Obama, was a very fine specimen, but this morning he noticed Obama's bell hadn't rung at all! When he went to investigate, he saw the other roosters were busy chasing pullets, bells-a-ringing, but the pullets, hearing the roosters coming, would run for cover.
To John's amazement, Obama had thought of a way to do it without work, he had his bell in his beak, so it couldn't ring. He'd sneak up on a pullet, do his job and walk on to the next one. John was so proud of Obama, he entered him in the Chicago County Fair and he became an overnight sensation among the judges.
The result was the judges not only awarded Obama the No Bell Piece Prize but they also awarded him the Pullet Surprise as well.
Clearly Obama was a politician. Who else but a politician could figure out how to win two of the most highly coveted awards on our planet by being the best at sneaking up on the populace and screwing them when they weren't paying attention.
Vote carefully next fall, the bells are not always audible.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The Gerbil-like Qualities of My Mind
Like countless millions of others I studied some psychology in college. It was a requirement for graduation. As such, or perhaps because the introductory subject matter really is simple, the class was easy to pass. Psych 101 was held in a packed lecture hall conveniently close to the student union building where I could always find a game of pinochle, cribbage or backgammon to join. I did not attend class regularly.
Studying the generally accepted principles of human behavior seemed a waste of time, and I had little-to-no interest. I was particularly put off by references to salivating dogs and the theoretical application of those experiments to human behavior. A slobbering canine, me?
I was offended to a lesser degree by experiments on lab rats, especially experiments involving a maze. While I thought most of mankind, certainly myself, to be more intellectually developed than the average rodent the experiments were at least interesting to watch. A colleague and I even figured out a way to bet on the outcomes.
Sleek white-furred bodies, noses sniffing and twitching as they worked their way along corridors of sameness; I am certain it was fascinating to some, but most assuredly not applicable to my life. Besides, the incentive/reward system and its applicability eluded me. I would still cut class to pursue a game, a girl or a greenback. And they served beer in the student union.
I now have the ability to apply some of the lessons and principles (as far as I can recall them) in my life, and I can often... regularly... sometimes... occasionally discern my own stimulus/response patterns of behavior. So much for maturity. My brain functions more like a group of rodents dropped into a maze all at once, each taking off in a direction of its own, at varying paces, indecisive at times, charging ahead at others, reversing course frequently, doubling back on itself, climbing over other rats (thoughts), short-cutting over walls, stepping on other furry bodies, milling aimlessly. It's chaotic to watch, exhausting to live.
Studying the generally accepted principles of human behavior seemed a waste of time, and I had little-to-no interest. I was particularly put off by references to salivating dogs and the theoretical application of those experiments to human behavior. A slobbering canine, me?
I was offended to a lesser degree by experiments on lab rats, especially experiments involving a maze. While I thought most of mankind, certainly myself, to be more intellectually developed than the average rodent the experiments were at least interesting to watch. A colleague and I even figured out a way to bet on the outcomes.
Sleek white-furred bodies, noses sniffing and twitching as they worked their way along corridors of sameness; I am certain it was fascinating to some, but most assuredly not applicable to my life. Besides, the incentive/reward system and its applicability eluded me. I would still cut class to pursue a game, a girl or a greenback. And they served beer in the student union.
I now have the ability to apply some of the lessons and principles (as far as I can recall them) in my life, and I can often... regularly... sometimes... occasionally discern my own stimulus/response patterns of behavior. So much for maturity. My brain functions more like a group of rodents dropped into a maze all at once, each taking off in a direction of its own, at varying paces, indecisive at times, charging ahead at others, reversing course frequently, doubling back on itself, climbing over other rats (thoughts), short-cutting over walls, stepping on other furry bodies, milling aimlessly. It's chaotic to watch, exhausting to live.
Monday, July 19, 2010
A Goodbye
They part at the edge of substance.
Henceforth, he will be shadow
in a land of shadow.
And she - she too will be going
slowly down a road of cloud,
weightless, untouched, untouching.
This is the last crossroad.
Her right hand in his left
are clasped, but already,
muffled in his acceptance of fate,
his attention recedes from her.
Her left hand rises, fingertips trace
the curve of his warm face
as it cools and fades.
He has looked down his road,
he is ready to go, not willingly
yet without useless resistance.
She too accepts the truth, there is no way back,
but she has not looked, yet, at the path
accorded to her. She has not given herself,
not yet, to her shadowland.
Henceforth, he will be shadow
in a land of shadow.
And she - she too will be going
slowly down a road of cloud,
weightless, untouched, untouching.
This is the last crossroad.
Her right hand in his left
are clasped, but already,
muffled in his acceptance of fate,
his attention recedes from her.
Her left hand rises, fingertips trace
the curve of his warm face
as it cools and fades.
He has looked down his road,
he is ready to go, not willingly
yet without useless resistance.
She too accepts the truth, there is no way back,
but she has not looked, yet, at the path
accorded to her. She has not given herself,
not yet, to her shadowland.
Easy to Love
It is easy to love Him
when the blue is in the sky,
When the summer winds are blowing,
and we smell the roses nigh;
There is little effort needed
to obey His precious will
When it leads through flower-decked valley
or over sun-kissed hill.
It's when the rain is falling
or the mist hangs in the air,
When the road is dark and rugged
and the wind no longer fair,
When the rosy dawn has settled
in a shadowland of gray
That we find it hard to trust Him
and are slower to obey.
It is easy to trust Him
when the singing birds have come,
And their songs of praise are echoed
in our hearts and in our homes;
But it's when when we miss the music
and the days are dull and drear',
That we need a faith triumphant
over every doubt and fear.
And our blessed lord will give it;
what we lack He will supply;
Let us ask in faith believing -
on His promises rely;
He will ever be our leader,
whether smooth or rough the way,
And will prove Himself sufficient
for the needs of every day.
when the blue is in the sky,
When the summer winds are blowing,
and we smell the roses nigh;
There is little effort needed
to obey His precious will
When it leads through flower-decked valley
or over sun-kissed hill.
It's when the rain is falling
or the mist hangs in the air,
When the road is dark and rugged
and the wind no longer fair,
When the rosy dawn has settled
in a shadowland of gray
That we find it hard to trust Him
and are slower to obey.
It is easy to trust Him
when the singing birds have come,
And their songs of praise are echoed
in our hearts and in our homes;
But it's when when we miss the music
and the days are dull and drear',
That we need a faith triumphant
over every doubt and fear.
And our blessed lord will give it;
what we lack He will supply;
Let us ask in faith believing -
on His promises rely;
He will ever be our leader,
whether smooth or rough the way,
And will prove Himself sufficient
for the needs of every day.
Friday, July 16, 2010
This Is My Back Yard
In my own back yard is Pebble Beach, California. Back yard is a bit of a stretch, as if I could ever afford to live there. But it is near where I park at night and I do have access to its beauties. It's name speaks of one of its treasures, beautiful polished stones that can be found along the shore. Raging white surf churns almost continuously, thundering and pounding against the rocks on the shore.
These stones are trapped in the arms of merciless waves. They are tossed, rolled, tumbled, ground and rubbed together against a jagged cliff. This process of grinding and polishing continues relentlessly, day and night.
The result is highly prized, beautiful stones that tourists from around the world seek to take home. They are collected and displayed, coveted by many who see them. Yet just up the coast, around the next point of land is a quiet, protected cove. Tranquil and protected from the storms, its sand is covered with an abundance of similar pebbles not sought after by visitors.
Why have these stones been left untouched through the years? Simply because they have escaped all the turmoil and grinding by the elements. The quietness and peace have left them as they always were - rough, unpolished, lacking in value - for polish is the result of difficulties.
These stones are trapped in the arms of merciless waves. They are tossed, rolled, tumbled, ground and rubbed together against a jagged cliff. This process of grinding and polishing continues relentlessly, day and night.
The result is highly prized, beautiful stones that tourists from around the world seek to take home. They are collected and displayed, coveted by many who see them. Yet just up the coast, around the next point of land is a quiet, protected cove. Tranquil and protected from the storms, its sand is covered with an abundance of similar pebbles not sought after by visitors.
Why have these stones been left untouched through the years? Simply because they have escaped all the turmoil and grinding by the elements. The quietness and peace have left them as they always were - rough, unpolished, lacking in value - for polish is the result of difficulties.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The Reason Most People Are Bad...
is because they don't try to be good. - L. Frank Baum
This is the victory that has overcome the world, even faith. (1 John 5:4)
Sobriety asks that I keep walking into life. Recovery is exactly that, the recovery of life and purpose. The life and purpose I would choose to recover are no longer available to meb. Walking into life feels more like groping my way in the dark now. To be sure, I am not alone. God is present but keeping to Himself lately. And as I grope in inky blackness I have found it to be a maze of walls and no doors. To keep things interesting, the occasional step is encountered, just enough to cause a trip or stumble, but no falls.
With so much time to feel my way through I realize I have come up on 18 months sobriety. The "gift of sobriety" it is regularly called. But the gift is not bringing the joy I have sometimes felt. I am struggling with the gift concept. I'd like to exchange it for some happiness, or an apartment and a job, maybe for the medications I have run out of and cannot afford to buy, or a tune-up on my truck.
Gifts should be practical, not abstract, but they might be both I guess. A hot shower, for example. An abstract concept as a gift, unless you have limited access to a facility, then it becomes practical. But I stay with the concept that gifts should have some practical use.
I am struggling with sobriety. I am not seeing the promises come true in my life, unless the Big Book excerpt "we are going to know a new freedom..." is considered. That's about it. Freedom may well be anther expression for "nothing left to lose."
But trusting in the Giver of all good things, even when it appears I have been forsaken; praying, even when it seems my words simply vanish in a vast expanse where no one answers; believing that Gods love is complete and that He is aware of my circumstances and cries with me; desiring only what God's hand has planned for me while seemingly starving to death; and my greatest fear being that my faith will ultimately fail - "this is the victory that has overcome the world."
This is the victory that has overcome the world, even faith. (1 John 5:4)
Sobriety asks that I keep walking into life. Recovery is exactly that, the recovery of life and purpose. The life and purpose I would choose to recover are no longer available to meb. Walking into life feels more like groping my way in the dark now. To be sure, I am not alone. God is present but keeping to Himself lately. And as I grope in inky blackness I have found it to be a maze of walls and no doors. To keep things interesting, the occasional step is encountered, just enough to cause a trip or stumble, but no falls.
With so much time to feel my way through I realize I have come up on 18 months sobriety. The "gift of sobriety" it is regularly called. But the gift is not bringing the joy I have sometimes felt. I am struggling with the gift concept. I'd like to exchange it for some happiness, or an apartment and a job, maybe for the medications I have run out of and cannot afford to buy, or a tune-up on my truck.
Gifts should be practical, not abstract, but they might be both I guess. A hot shower, for example. An abstract concept as a gift, unless you have limited access to a facility, then it becomes practical. But I stay with the concept that gifts should have some practical use.
I am struggling with sobriety. I am not seeing the promises come true in my life, unless the Big Book excerpt "we are going to know a new freedom..." is considered. That's about it. Freedom may well be anther expression for "nothing left to lose."
But trusting in the Giver of all good things, even when it appears I have been forsaken; praying, even when it seems my words simply vanish in a vast expanse where no one answers; believing that Gods love is complete and that He is aware of my circumstances and cries with me; desiring only what God's hand has planned for me while seemingly starving to death; and my greatest fear being that my faith will ultimately fail - "this is the victory that has overcome the world."
Monday, July 12, 2010
Because I Said So
Wow. I so hated that response from my parents. My repeated badgering of "But why?" and "Why can't I....?" coupled with my unwillingness to accept their answers would ultimately bring on the "Because I said so!" Experience taught me to cease my pestering immediately when that point was reached. Persistence beyond that moment would bring a painful swat.
Much of what God reveals to me in my prayer and meditation seems to take that form when I ask, "Why?" I have come to the conclusion that He does things that way in order to increase my actions based on absolute faith. He hasn't swatted me yet, but He has allowed me to suffer consequences for mis-behavior.
"What if he did this to make the riches of his glory known to the objects of his mercy." (Rom 9:23) Paul's reference precedes a reference to Hosea 1:9, "for you are not my people, and I am not your God." God's people had turned their backs on Him in all but name during Hosea's ministry. Not a lot different than many today. And God was angry and hurt by His people's pursuit of idols - adultery, possessions, materialism.
Yet God cannot deny His love for His chosen and offered hope for the repentance of Israel. "I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert... There I will give her back her vineyards." (Hosea 2:14-15)
The desert is a strange place to find vineyards. Can it be true that the riches of life that we need can be found in the desert - a place that symbolizes loneliness, and from which we can seldom find our way out unaided?
Yes, God knows our need for a desert experience. He knows exactly where and how to produce enduring qualities in each of us. It may mean the stripping away of earthly riches, imprisonment, the removal of support systems, persistent feelings of confusion or abandonment - His pruning of our lives may take dozens of forms.
The person who has been idolatrous, has been rebellious, has forgotten God's words, has said with total self-will, "I will go after my lovers" (Hosea 2:5), will find their path blocked by God. To be certain, the strong-willed will find a way around Him, but when the feelings of hopelessness and abandonment set in, God will say, "I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her." (Hosea 2:14)
God has lead me into some hard, difficult and lonely places, and it has been there that I realize I am where eternal streams wash over me.
Much of what God reveals to me in my prayer and meditation seems to take that form when I ask, "Why?" I have come to the conclusion that He does things that way in order to increase my actions based on absolute faith. He hasn't swatted me yet, but He has allowed me to suffer consequences for mis-behavior.
"What if he did this to make the riches of his glory known to the objects of his mercy." (Rom 9:23) Paul's reference precedes a reference to Hosea 1:9, "for you are not my people, and I am not your God." God's people had turned their backs on Him in all but name during Hosea's ministry. Not a lot different than many today. And God was angry and hurt by His people's pursuit of idols - adultery, possessions, materialism.
Yet God cannot deny His love for His chosen and offered hope for the repentance of Israel. "I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert... There I will give her back her vineyards." (Hosea 2:14-15)
The desert is a strange place to find vineyards. Can it be true that the riches of life that we need can be found in the desert - a place that symbolizes loneliness, and from which we can seldom find our way out unaided?
Yes, God knows our need for a desert experience. He knows exactly where and how to produce enduring qualities in each of us. It may mean the stripping away of earthly riches, imprisonment, the removal of support systems, persistent feelings of confusion or abandonment - His pruning of our lives may take dozens of forms.
The person who has been idolatrous, has been rebellious, has forgotten God's words, has said with total self-will, "I will go after my lovers" (Hosea 2:5), will find their path blocked by God. To be certain, the strong-willed will find a way around Him, but when the feelings of hopelessness and abandonment set in, God will say, "I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her." (Hosea 2:14)
God has lead me into some hard, difficult and lonely places, and it has been there that I realize I am where eternal streams wash over me.
Convicted by My Lack of Convictions
"There before me was a door standing open in heaven." (Rev 4:1)
I need to remember that John wrote these words while on the island of Patmos. He was there "because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus" (Rev 1:9). He had been banished to the island, an isolated, rocky, inhospitable prison.
Yet it was there, under difficult circumstances - separated from all of his loved ones in Ephasus, excluded from worshiping with the church, and condemned to only the companionship of unpleasant fellow captives - that he was granted the special privilege of a vision of heaven. It was as a prisoner that he saw "a door standing open in heaven."
I should also remember Jacob, who laid down in the desert to sleep after leaving his fathers house. "He had a dream in which he saw a stairway resting on the earth, with its top reaching to heaven, and... above it stood the Lord." (Gen 28:12-13)
The doors of heaven have been opened for many others and in the word's estimation it seems as if their circumstances were utterly unlikely to merit such revelations. Yet how often do we hear of "a door standing open in heaven" for prisoners and captives? Many who suffer from chronic illness, or who are bound with chains of pain to a bed of suffering report immense joys received in their lives. Many who wander the earth in lonely isolation, or who are kept from the Lord's house by demands placed on them by others receive a glimpse of paradise.
But there are conditions to seeing the open door. I must first learn what it is to be "in the spirit" (Rev 1:10). I must be "pure in heart" (Matt 5:8) and obedient in faith. I must be willing to "consider everything a loss compared t the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus. (Phil 3:8) Then, once God is everything to me, so that "in Him [I] live and move and have [my] being" (Acts 17:28), the door to heaven will stand open to me as well.
I need to remember that John wrote these words while on the island of Patmos. He was there "because of the word of God and the testimony of Jesus" (Rev 1:9). He had been banished to the island, an isolated, rocky, inhospitable prison.
Yet it was there, under difficult circumstances - separated from all of his loved ones in Ephasus, excluded from worshiping with the church, and condemned to only the companionship of unpleasant fellow captives - that he was granted the special privilege of a vision of heaven. It was as a prisoner that he saw "a door standing open in heaven."
I should also remember Jacob, who laid down in the desert to sleep after leaving his fathers house. "He had a dream in which he saw a stairway resting on the earth, with its top reaching to heaven, and... above it stood the Lord." (Gen 28:12-13)
The doors of heaven have been opened for many others and in the word's estimation it seems as if their circumstances were utterly unlikely to merit such revelations. Yet how often do we hear of "a door standing open in heaven" for prisoners and captives? Many who suffer from chronic illness, or who are bound with chains of pain to a bed of suffering report immense joys received in their lives. Many who wander the earth in lonely isolation, or who are kept from the Lord's house by demands placed on them by others receive a glimpse of paradise.
But there are conditions to seeing the open door. I must first learn what it is to be "in the spirit" (Rev 1:10). I must be "pure in heart" (Matt 5:8) and obedient in faith. I must be willing to "consider everything a loss compared t the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus. (Phil 3:8) Then, once God is everything to me, so that "in Him [I] live and move and have [my] being" (Acts 17:28), the door to heaven will stand open to me as well.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Hope Is a Most Terrible Thing
This sounds contradictory to much of what I write about. And it is. It has been some time since I posted any new ramblings or rants. While I have been writing (some of those I will post at a later date) it has been a time of processing for me and allowing myself to heal physically and emotionally.
In the midst of my battle with cancer my ex-wife came back into my life for a period of time. I still love her so. Always have. Always will. Against my own better judgement, I allowed her to begin to work her way back into my heart. You see, I had learned in the past year that I could still love her yet not allow her a place in my life. I allowed hope to build in my much damaged spirit, hope that we could rebuild our marriage.
I was led to believe that that we had time to work on the healing. We spent time together, God honoring time. I tried with my limited resources (other than time, of which I have plenty) to befriend her, as she did me. We even went to look at an apartment she wanted to rent. I allowed her individual time and her space to process her own losses of recent months. I understand emotional pain, especially the type of pain that stems from individual decisions.
But I realized too late that I had been mis-led. I realized too late that once again my emotions had been entangled in a relationship over which I had no influence or power of choice. I realized too late that the woman who plucks the strings of my heart had not been honest with me about the relationship she never really left. It turns out that I was the only one who had been left.
Why does God allow me to have hope, especially when He knows there is no basis for that hope? Why does He allow hope when there is no possibility of those hopes being met? And if hope is to be allowed, why does He allow it to hurt so deeply when I am crushed?
I have only myself to blame for this pain I must again endure. You see, my pain is self inflicted. I placed my hope in another human being. As long as my hope rests in anyone who occupies this world I am setting myself up for failure. And with failure comes pain.
I truly believe God's word is the truth and still the ultimate authority in today's world. I believe God wanted me to see that He has other plans for me. My wishes for me are not what He considers of primary importance. His wishes for me are of primary importance to Him and to me and I must learn to place my hope in Him and Him alone.
In the midst of my battle with cancer my ex-wife came back into my life for a period of time. I still love her so. Always have. Always will. Against my own better judgement, I allowed her to begin to work her way back into my heart. You see, I had learned in the past year that I could still love her yet not allow her a place in my life. I allowed hope to build in my much damaged spirit, hope that we could rebuild our marriage.
I was led to believe that that we had time to work on the healing. We spent time together, God honoring time. I tried with my limited resources (other than time, of which I have plenty) to befriend her, as she did me. We even went to look at an apartment she wanted to rent. I allowed her individual time and her space to process her own losses of recent months. I understand emotional pain, especially the type of pain that stems from individual decisions.
But I realized too late that I had been mis-led. I realized too late that once again my emotions had been entangled in a relationship over which I had no influence or power of choice. I realized too late that the woman who plucks the strings of my heart had not been honest with me about the relationship she never really left. It turns out that I was the only one who had been left.
Why does God allow me to have hope, especially when He knows there is no basis for that hope? Why does He allow hope when there is no possibility of those hopes being met? And if hope is to be allowed, why does He allow it to hurt so deeply when I am crushed?
I have only myself to blame for this pain I must again endure. You see, my pain is self inflicted. I placed my hope in another human being. As long as my hope rests in anyone who occupies this world I am setting myself up for failure. And with failure comes pain.
I truly believe God's word is the truth and still the ultimate authority in today's world. I believe God wanted me to see that He has other plans for me. My wishes for me are not what He considers of primary importance. His wishes for me are of primary importance to Him and to me and I must learn to place my hope in Him and Him alone.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Faith Honors God/God Honors Faith
Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift you as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers. (Luke 22:31-32
Dear believer, remember to take good care of your faith, for faith is the only way to obtain God's blessings. Prayer alone cannot bring answers down from His throne. It is the earnest prayer of the faithful that leads to answers.
Faith is the communication link on which prayer travels. It is only by this link that prayer travels. It is by this link that God's message of love and answers to prayers move, so quickly that even before we ask, while we are still speaking, "he hears us." (1 John 5:14) So if the connection of faith is severed, how will we obtain His promises? We can't!
"The promise comes by faith, so that it may be by grace and may be guaranteed to all" (Rom 4:16). Even grace is denied to those who lack faith. Why is that? To profess belief in something, yet have no faith in it, is not true belief. If I believe in electricity and never turn on the switch do I have belief or faith in it? Or am I just paying lip-service to a concept?
If I claim belief in God, yet do not trust Him enough to follow His commands, I have no real faith. Faith is the action that demonstrates my belief. Faith is the following of that "still small voice" that guides me - or attempts to guide me. Faith is choosing the path that honors God even when conventional wisdom says otherwise. Faith allows me to say to those I know to be false, those who choose to accept the comforts of this world as their reward, those who urge me to follow their way, "'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!" (Matt 7:23)
In writing his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul chose his words carefully and ordered them specifically. "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love." (1 Cor 13:13) Faith gives birth to hope, and from there arises true love.
Dear believer, remember to take good care of your faith, for faith is the only way to obtain God's blessings. Prayer alone cannot bring answers down from His throne. It is the earnest prayer of the faithful that leads to answers.
Faith is the communication link on which prayer travels. It is only by this link that prayer travels. It is by this link that God's message of love and answers to prayers move, so quickly that even before we ask, while we are still speaking, "he hears us." (1 John 5:14) So if the connection of faith is severed, how will we obtain His promises? We can't!
"The promise comes by faith, so that it may be by grace and may be guaranteed to all" (Rom 4:16). Even grace is denied to those who lack faith. Why is that? To profess belief in something, yet have no faith in it, is not true belief. If I believe in electricity and never turn on the switch do I have belief or faith in it? Or am I just paying lip-service to a concept?
If I claim belief in God, yet do not trust Him enough to follow His commands, I have no real faith. Faith is the action that demonstrates my belief. Faith is the following of that "still small voice" that guides me - or attempts to guide me. Faith is choosing the path that honors God even when conventional wisdom says otherwise. Faith allows me to say to those I know to be false, those who choose to accept the comforts of this world as their reward, those who urge me to follow their way, "'I never knew you. Away from me, you evildoers!" (Matt 7:23)
In writing his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul chose his words carefully and ordered them specifically. "And now these three remain: faith, hope and love." (1 Cor 13:13) Faith gives birth to hope, and from there arises true love.
A More Simple Rant
Written sometime in early June as I recall. I really need to date my scribbles.
Health issues continue to plague me. I delayed a cancer procedure in order to get into a clinical trial. After acceptance to that trial I again delayed treatment once. Tomorrow was the day we were to start the process. But God has other plans.
It turns out I am hypoglycemic. Yesterday's collapse in the store and subsequent ambulance ride to the hospital disclosed an underlying medical condition I had not discussed with my oncologist before application to clinical trials. And I am learning it may necessitate my being dropped. It seems they want to work with (otherwise) healthy cancer patients.
But God continues to continually provide for my spiritual growth and my amusement. Case in point: I don't have a club card for the local supermarket where I stay. I have simply not taken the two or three minutes required to fill out the form. Instead I use my ex-wife's phone number. To me that is simple. So I will recount a conversation at the check-out stand.
- Clerk: "Do you have a club card?"
- Me: "No. I use my ex's phone number."
- Clerk: "That's nice of you to let an old boyfriend accumulate rewards."
- Me, barely able to contain myself in a mixture of laughter and confusion: "Huh?"
Now, this did not take place in the Castro district of San Francisco. This is in Carmel Valley. It is more gentrified than it once was, but have things really changed that much? I made a mental note of the name on her tag.
- Me, somewhat more composed: "Thank you, Eunice. But even my worst nightmares have never included an ex-boyfriend."
To continue the conversation beyond that moment would have been needlessly awkward for both of us. But it gave me an opportunity to reflect on the need for God's love, and restraint of tongue.
My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires." (James 1:19-20)
Health issues continue to plague me. I delayed a cancer procedure in order to get into a clinical trial. After acceptance to that trial I again delayed treatment once. Tomorrow was the day we were to start the process. But God has other plans.
It turns out I am hypoglycemic. Yesterday's collapse in the store and subsequent ambulance ride to the hospital disclosed an underlying medical condition I had not discussed with my oncologist before application to clinical trials. And I am learning it may necessitate my being dropped. It seems they want to work with (otherwise) healthy cancer patients.
But God continues to continually provide for my spiritual growth and my amusement. Case in point: I don't have a club card for the local supermarket where I stay. I have simply not taken the two or three minutes required to fill out the form. Instead I use my ex-wife's phone number. To me that is simple. So I will recount a conversation at the check-out stand.
- Clerk: "Do you have a club card?"
- Me: "No. I use my ex's phone number."
- Clerk: "That's nice of you to let an old boyfriend accumulate rewards."
- Me, barely able to contain myself in a mixture of laughter and confusion: "Huh?"
Now, this did not take place in the Castro district of San Francisco. This is in Carmel Valley. It is more gentrified than it once was, but have things really changed that much? I made a mental note of the name on her tag.
- Me, somewhat more composed: "Thank you, Eunice. But even my worst nightmares have never included an ex-boyfriend."
To continue the conversation beyond that moment would have been needlessly awkward for both of us. But it gave me an opportunity to reflect on the need for God's love, and restraint of tongue.
My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires." (James 1:19-20)
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
More Spiritual Matters
It seems the two most difficult things to get right in life are love and God. In my life, more often than not, the messes I have made can be traced directly to failure, stupidity, or outright meanness in one or both of these areas. My conviction as a Christian is that God and love are intricately connected; completely inter-twined. To deal with God the right way I must learn to love the right way. If I want to love the right way, I must deal with God the right way. God and love cannot be separated.
In reading 1, 2, & 3John I get wonderfully explicit directions in how this works, and what it should look like in my life. Jesus provides the full understanding of God, the mature working-out of love. In Jesus, God and love are linked accurately, intricately and indissolubly, in human form.
There will always be people who don't want to be pinned down to the God that Jesus reveals. They want to make up their own idea of God. They would prefer to make up their own style of love. Perhaps this is an underlying reality in the problems that have beset human relationships in society today. Even God-fearing Christians will listen to false witness, bad teaching and illogical advice.
"Stay with what you heard from the beginning, the original message. Let it sink into your life. If what you heard from the beginning lives deeply in you, you will live deeply in both Son and Father." (1John 2:24 TM)
My Climbing Life
In my youth I spent much time climbing rock in Yosemite, The Pinnacles and a number of other places. I often think back on those times, on the lessons learned when you must place your life in another's hands. Climbing partners were carefully chosen. They were a lifeline, and in more than one instance, the reason I am alive today. The man on the other end of your rope is crucial to a successful climb. Part friend, confidante, coach, support group. Climbing partners need to be so in tune with each other that they intuitively respond to movements; strong, steady, alert. Encouragement from the belay can make or break the climb, and the climber.
I took on a new belay, a new partner, when I accepted Christ as my Savior. He gave me His harness, the Holy Spirit, and a brand new rope, His Word. It became my lifeline, my connection to reality. My first few moves were strong, confident, almost graceful. But I lost my focus, my strength began to fade, and with height came fear. I lost my footing, I lost my grip. I fell. For a moment it seemed like forever. Wildly tumbling, out of control, out of self-control, disoriented, dislodged; falling.
When the rope tightened and the tumble ceased I found my equipment to be sound; harness and rope intact. I looked at my belay, found Jesus had secured my soul. A sheepish confession, a wan smile and I continue my climb. But it was my partner's reaction that startled me most. "When you have come through the time of testing, turn to your companions and give them a fresh start" (Luke 22:32 TM) You see, the only person surprised by my fall was me.
So I tell of what climbing has done for me, what my partner/belay/lifeline, my Guide does for me now. Wiser, I have slowed my pace. I am more cautious, yet more confident. And while I can't really see my Guide, I know he is there.
To Him who is able to keep you from falling and to present you before His glorious presence without fault and with great joy - to the only God, our Savior, be glory, majesty, power and authority, through Jesus Christ our Lord, before all ages, now and forevermore! Amen (Jude 24 NIV)
A Dark Day
There are times when everything looks dark to me - so dark that I have to wait before I have hope. Waiting with hope is very difficult, but true patience is expressed when I must even wait for hope.
At times I see nothing but the darkness of night through my window. But I refuse to close the blinds because a star may appear. Refusing to allow the empty place in my heart to be filled by anything but God's best has been, is, the greatest test of patience in the universe.
Patience is teaching me that while I see nothing but sorrow in my cup, I will wait to drink from it, for His eyes see further than mine.
Father, give me your Divine power, the strength to wait for hope, to look through the window when there are no stars, even when my joy is gone. You have made waiting beautiful and patience divine. Teach me how to accept your will for my life.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
A Simple Lesson
"Late that day he said to them, 'Let's go across to the other side.' ... A huge storm came up. Waves poured into the boat, threatening to sink it... They roused him saying, 'Teacher, is it nothing to you that we are going to drown?'" (Mark 4:35-38 TM)
This is one of those passages I'd like to write a few paragraphs about. I would offer encouragement to readers with trite sayings like, "If God leads you to it He'll see you through it." A most fitting expression here, isn't it? It is almost enough said on the topic, too.
Jesus' response, "Why are you such cowards? Don't you have any faith at all?" (v. 40) was a modest rebuke. It was early in Jesus' ministry as recounted by Mark. And the type of faith needed to rebuke the elements while the Master slept had yet to be developed among His disciples.
I get a smile, knowing what I do now of Jesus. My own relationship with Him today imagines a smart-alec reply on His part. "I didn't say lets go to the middle of the lake and drown. Keep rowing"
This is one of those passages I'd like to write a few paragraphs about. I would offer encouragement to readers with trite sayings like, "If God leads you to it He'll see you through it." A most fitting expression here, isn't it? It is almost enough said on the topic, too.
Jesus' response, "Why are you such cowards? Don't you have any faith at all?" (v. 40) was a modest rebuke. It was early in Jesus' ministry as recounted by Mark. And the type of faith needed to rebuke the elements while the Master slept had yet to be developed among His disciples.
I get a smile, knowing what I do now of Jesus. My own relationship with Him today imagines a smart-alec reply on His part. "I didn't say lets go to the middle of the lake and drown. Keep rowing"
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Challenging God
"...but Abraham still stood before the Lord." (Gen 18:22)
"...far be it from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" (Gen 18:25)
"So the Lord went His way as soon as He had finished speaking with Abraham, and Abraham returned to his place." (Gen 18:33)
What just happened here? Did someone just stand up to God and argue a point as if the Creator were a mere schoolyard bully? Or is the lesson here more subtle? From my reading of the Word, this was Abraham's fifth personal encounter with the Lord. Not since Adam had anyone received so much face time with The Boss.
That Abraham used this valuable moment to argue, to plead a case for the condemned of Sodom causes me to scratch my head in wonder. I mean, come on. Abraham, you are living in a tent, in the Negev Desert of all places. What about a little "milk and honey," a bit of personal comfort, maybe a more reliable water supply, better crops, protection from marauding neighbors? Since God seemed open to suggestion, what about a less painful tribal marking than circumcision?
The story unfolding in this section of Genesis involves Abraham exercising his faith in God by negotiating over the destruction of a wicked city. What balls he had to stand on nothing more than faith in the friendship he had developed with the Maker of heaven and earth, and argue.
And Abraham had no quid pro quo, nothing to offer in return. Or did he? Abraham's faith had not come to him all at once. It came step by step. It came by taking risks, trusting in incremental moments, building upon prior experiences. Over time he learned that God would be there for him. And over time he learned he could successfully argue before God for the lives of a few souls.
That was Abraham's quid pro quo. His faith in their relationship was exactly what the Lord wanted in return. And when the exchange was concluded each went their own way, certain that their point had been understood. And that is all God wants from me. Enough faith in Him to argue with Him.
"...far be it from you! Shall not the Judge of all the earth do right?" (Gen 18:25)
"So the Lord went His way as soon as He had finished speaking with Abraham, and Abraham returned to his place." (Gen 18:33)
What just happened here? Did someone just stand up to God and argue a point as if the Creator were a mere schoolyard bully? Or is the lesson here more subtle? From my reading of the Word, this was Abraham's fifth personal encounter with the Lord. Not since Adam had anyone received so much face time with The Boss.
That Abraham used this valuable moment to argue, to plead a case for the condemned of Sodom causes me to scratch my head in wonder. I mean, come on. Abraham, you are living in a tent, in the Negev Desert of all places. What about a little "milk and honey," a bit of personal comfort, maybe a more reliable water supply, better crops, protection from marauding neighbors? Since God seemed open to suggestion, what about a less painful tribal marking than circumcision?
The story unfolding in this section of Genesis involves Abraham exercising his faith in God by negotiating over the destruction of a wicked city. What balls he had to stand on nothing more than faith in the friendship he had developed with the Maker of heaven and earth, and argue.
And Abraham had no quid pro quo, nothing to offer in return. Or did he? Abraham's faith had not come to him all at once. It came step by step. It came by taking risks, trusting in incremental moments, building upon prior experiences. Over time he learned that God would be there for him. And over time he learned he could successfully argue before God for the lives of a few souls.
That was Abraham's quid pro quo. His faith in their relationship was exactly what the Lord wanted in return. And when the exchange was concluded each went their own way, certain that their point had been understood. And that is all God wants from me. Enough faith in Him to argue with Him.
Sense-ual Experiences
I hold my sight most dear,
For I cannot smell your graceful form,
Nor feel your eyes return my gaze,
Though I think at times I can hear your smile
I cannot taste it from afar.
But could I forgo the melody of your voice?
That sweet softness has neither form nor taste.
And to see you mouth 'I want you'
May create quite the stir,
But awakening to 'Sweetheart'
Resonates with my soul.
Could I profane my senses by giving up your scent?
Florals and lotions compete for attention
With what is woman - trigger thoughts
And emotions and memories dear.
I would not choose a flavorless life,
Unfamiliar with your tasty kisses,
Unacquainted with the saltiness
Of the nape of your neck,
The swell of your breasts
In passions grip.
Whatever could possess me to surrender your feel?
Soft and warm, cool and firm,
A kaleidoscope of textures, and temperatures,
And tactile bliss.
No, I choose not to surrender this.
I choose not to surrender these.
For I cannot smell your graceful form,
Nor feel your eyes return my gaze,
Though I think at times I can hear your smile
I cannot taste it from afar.
But could I forgo the melody of your voice?
That sweet softness has neither form nor taste.
And to see you mouth 'I want you'
May create quite the stir,
But awakening to 'Sweetheart'
Resonates with my soul.
Could I profane my senses by giving up your scent?
Florals and lotions compete for attention
With what is woman - trigger thoughts
And emotions and memories dear.
I would not choose a flavorless life,
Unfamiliar with your tasty kisses,
Unacquainted with the saltiness
Of the nape of your neck,
The swell of your breasts
In passions grip.
Whatever could possess me to surrender your feel?
Soft and warm, cool and firm,
A kaleidoscope of textures, and temperatures,
And tactile bliss.
No, I choose not to surrender this.
I choose not to surrender these.
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