Providence

Posted: November 30, 2013 in becoming
Tags: , , , , , , ,
1

“I’ll drop a pod in your parking lot,” said Andy, “You can fill it up on Saturday, and I’ll pick it up on Monday.”

“It’s free?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said, “We sell the stuff you put in the pod in our store.”

“Will you take old carpet?” I asked.

“Sure, if it’s in decent shape,” he said.

I was good with that; FB Church needed more purging.

The old carpet we had pulled out of the worship center had been sitting behind the classroom building, and I had a classroom at the church had been full of old furniture since I had come there five years ago, and it needed to go — old desks, chairs, tables, file cabinets, cribs, benches, books.

What’s interesting to me is that I didn’t know about Andy on Wednesday. I did on Thursday, through a friend. He dropped off the truck pod in the church parking lot on Friday night. We filled it Saturday morning. It was gone on Monday. I had been wondering how I would get rid of that junk. It happened.

In retrospect, if someone hadn’t given me Andy’s info, I would have paid $80 to get rid of the carpet, and would have had no way to get rid of the furniture. Our plan was to put all the furniture in the parking lot, mark it free and see if someone would take it. We did that on Saturday morning; no one took it, and so the pod was the ticket to get the junk off the church property.

Chance, circumstance, luck, good fortune, good timing  — I suspect Andy was more to do with providence!

What is providence?

Providence is a timely preparation for future eventualities. It was providential that I came into contact with Andy when I did. Providence is getting a pod the day before you need it, but getting it in a unexpectected, delightful, surprising way, a way you didn’t orchestrate.

The idea behind providence is that the preparation for a good future isn’t done by us. Providence — it is that timely, helpful, progressive, protective care that happens outside of human volition, by nature, circumstance or say, by God.

Things happen, that aren’t planned by us. How do they happen? We can think of them as random, chance or naturally caused, or we can think of them as guided, by the divine.

What are the proofs of divine providence? To the some, there are none. “Stuff happens,” they might say, “and sometimes it’s just what we want to happen, or need to happen, but that it happens by chance or cause and effect.”

I don’t think so.

There is something curious about the universe to me, an intentional, elegant simplicity, a particularly gorgeous continuity, a quirky dalliance, an unexpected helpfulness, a proclivity for connection that goes some place. And it is my observation that this helpfulness is not vague, Hegelian or mystical, but that this outside movement, this timely provision, this directed motion is personal and intentional. The belief in providence isn’t, for me, a leap of faith off a cliff of rationality. It is the clear and obvious presence of God himself.

Providence isn’t freaky, paranormal or weirdly supernatural at all  — it’s rational, normal, commonplace, visible, discernible, practical. It’s a pod driven into your parking lot on a truck by a driver that you did little to arrange and feel extremely grateful for when it is plopped down in front of you.

Take FB Church. When I arrived five years ago the place was in disarray. I remember my first Sunday. I went and found a broom and swept the front porch — too much dirt and leaves and trash for a self-respecting place of worship. “It shouldn’t be this way,” I thought. “It can’t be this way.” One of the leaders in the church saw me doing this and he came and took the broom from me and helped. He is still there, helping. His name is Mike Shaw.

The next week I went around collecting the pots with dead plants in them from the front yard of the church and throwing them away. Why would someone leave out front, empty, broken pots with dead plants in them. Were we advertizing this as a place to come and die, or come and live? Ever since then,  with a motivated passion, I’ve led a purging at the church, a house cleaning, a temple cleansing, a comprehensive renewal, and I have been helped, by people, and by more than that.

The professionals, friends with skills, have shown up in droves. On one particular church work day an electrician showed up and replaced the timers that ran the parking lot lights. He just appeared on the work day, invited by someone in the church, and asked if he could do any electrical work. Providence.

Another electrician, Tom Roach, came when asked and over several months put up eight thousand dollars in new decorative and canned lighting in the worship center. Tom brought a lift from his company, at no cost to us, and did all the labor, at no cost. We only paid for parts. I asked, he responded. So how is this providence? It is providential that I knew him, and that he had time right then, and that he was willing. Willingness is providential. So is passion.

I believe that God works through people, that God is the mover inside the people to bring them to the skill level, the place, the time and the willingness to help. God put me there, with an extreme passion to lead a renewal, and he has brought many other people since “for such a time as this.”

Recently we added up the young people, youth and children in the church, in our effort to adopt children for Christmas. When I first came to the church we had only a handful of children, almost none. Now there are 10 times a handful, enough for children’s choirs, a children’s church, children’s events. The children, have been provided — providentially. People are God’s primary forms of providence, because he can move and motivate and act through people of all sizes. Some of our best stories in the church are stories of children bringing their parents to church.

There are more stories, many more best stories, people stories. Tasia Copeland and Brenda Smith led our beautification team. Gary Redmond came and painted our worship center. Hugo created new banner holders for us. Tasia designed them. Tom sprayed ceiling texture on our balcony. Martin helped finish our wood floors. Donna was the first to lead our food ministy. Jeanie came at just the right time to keep it going. Aryn and Delfina got our children’s ministry started. Aryn joined our youth ministry staff. Glee became our first female elder and board chair. Debi Mauricio started a children’s choir for us. Danielle Levy joined us from the Center For Enriching Relationiships as our onsite therapist. Tim McConnell became one of elders and a kind of social-guru in the church. Samantha became our key worship leader. Nate teamed with her to make it happen.

Providence exists in people.

A family I once did a funeral for has an awning business. When asked, they replaced the huge awnings on the front of the church, giving us the best deal in town. This is providential, in my mind because it is part of a pattern that is very obvious at the church. The church has a need; something that had been overlooked for several years, a relationship comes about, a person meets the need.

A room in one of our church buildings developed a leak four years ago.  I got an estimate from a roofer, $5,000. The whole roof needed replacing. A short time later, after a Sunday service, a woman handed my a check, $5,000. She didn’t really attend  much, but she had recently come into some money as a result of a retirement package, and she wanted to give that. She didn’t know about the roof, or the estimate.

We use the phrase sometimes, “on a roll.” We’ve been on a five-year roll at the church, one good, unexpected financial gift and helpful relationship after another.

Is it coincidence or providence? Well, we now have five years of crazy-good, future-making “coincidences” under our belts.

We took on a pastoral intern, Summer. She turned out to be exactly the kind of person we needed to added to our staff, and we eventually permanently hired her as one of our pastors. She is making a huge difference.

We had a house on the property we decided we wanted to sell, but we would need the seller to move it off the property. I consulted a realtor friend. She introduced my to a house mover, but he had no investors interested in moving small, run-down properties. Nothing happened. People told me that it would be tough, getting someone to haul off an old, two-bedroom California bungalow during the recession. We prayed about it.  It happened, a year later. The house mover stopped by, seeing me out front watering our new bushes. “I think I might have a developer interested in the house,” he said. He did, and only a short time later we pocketed cash for the house, and it flew off down the street on a truck, and we are now building a beautiful courtyard where it sat.

And that the courtyard has a story too, several of them.  I needed a courtyard plan. An architect friend, Janet Ward, donated it free. I needed a safety exit plan. A man began attending the church who had significant skill in construction. His name is Josh Kottas. He came to me saying he would work on this, and use architects he knew to guide him. He did just that, it worked, and a beautiful exit plan took shape.

We went to the city about this. They were not very helpful. We went back. We met a fire inspector who was just the opposite. He laid out in perfect detail the final things needed in our plan. We walked out smiling. We had hit the city planning office on the right day this time.

We aren’t done with the courtyard, just getting started. One thing that has given me some stress on this project is the awareness of how much this will cost, a bunch! A few months ago a family who doesn’t attend our church called me to their house. They presented me with a check for $18,000. “For whatever you need,” they said.

Phone calls, people stopping by, referrals, friends, financial gifts, donated labor, a site renewal, a bevy of children, a new vision, renewed passion, inspired direction, a pattern of being helped, a forward tendency toward something better — something more than coincidence is at work in me and others.  Many of the 50 plus rooms at the church have been repurposed, remodeled or re-beautified. And beautiful, old, oak floors that lay under old, stained carpet for years, have seen the light of day. And people, discouraged, beaten-down, hurting people have found a safe place for themselves and their children.

And this is the most providential thing of all. People and their children, who were ready for something new, have shown up and become new. Eighty percent of the people who now attend are new to the church, and a good deal of them are new Christians. A church that didn’t grow, for years and years, has grown. It has grown by at least four hundred per cent!

Call it what you want, timely preparation for future eventualities, proclivity for connection, a set of quirky surprises, a happy tilting in a good direction, unexpected gifts, success building on success, a surprising network of growing relationships, you can call it these things, but you have to call it one more thing, and you would call it this if you were there to see it.

You have to call it good.

I call it God.

.

Love

Posted: November 25, 2013 in love
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
1

The ranking is bronze, silver — gold.

And it is also faith, hope — love.

Not much beats gold, or love, as precious.

Love is the pure gold of God, and the summum bonum of life.

Many are the witnesses that love is supreme, and that without it we “gain nothing.” Love is everything — the core, the essence, the apex, the thing! All of our lives most of us have never wanted anything more than we have wanted to be loved. We ache for love, for falling in love, for being the loved one, for more delicious, life-giving, energy-making, life-curing love.

How do we get it?

Consider a young girl living in Missouri, who has never seen visited the ocean, any ocean, anywhere. She finds a picture of San Diego online. It is a beautiful shot, taken from the Coronado Bay bridge, showing the bay, the palm trees, the Silver Strand, the gorgeous Hotel Del Coronado and the great, sparkling Pacific beyond.

She holds her tablet, her 9.4 by 6.6 inch digital ocean in her hands and gushes, “I love the ocean!”

But there is so much of the ocean that she doesn’t know to love.

She doesn’t  know the knock-you-out, corner-of-eye to corner-of-eye,  panoramic expanse of the great Pacific, the lovely, blue watery arms of San Diego that shimmer like a dream land before you as you drive west up over the Coronado Bay bridge. And she doesn’t know the briny, salty, sea-in-the-air fragrance that greets you at the beach. And she doesn’t know the soft, clean, warm sand between the toes. She doesn’t know the cold, wet shock of the Pacific ocean as you enter it. She doesn’’t know the thrilling ride down the wave —  the rapid rush, the surfy slosh, the white water engulfing you.

To understand the ocean, and to understand love, we must live these realities not simply admire them from afar. To get love we must drive toward and into other people, and also God. We must experience the other, we must experience God, and we must sink our toes deep in to love, and then run to it’s shore, and dive in head first.

Reading about love in a book, even a sacred book, may be a gesture toward love, but it is no more love than looking at a picture of the ocean is experiencing the ocean.

To really know love, to experience love, to know the panoramic reality of love in all of life, to know the sweet fragrance of love found in difficult relationships, to know the warmth of love between your toes when you have been deeply valued, to know the cold shock of love being so much other than what you expected, to know the rapid rush of love as it washes you down the sloping, sliding, thrilling, scary waves of other people —  that is what it means to know love, and that is what it means to know God.

Love is good. Love is better. It is best. Love is best.

So, run at this. Smack this. Jump on this. Dive head-long into this.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

1 Corinthians 13:13

 

 

 

Megan

Posted: November 17, 2013 in death
Tags: , , , , , , , ,
0

My friend Megan died on Monday. She was 29. She had NF.

This week, Evonne, her mom, Courtney and Becki, her sisters, have been trying to explain to the little ones in the family, Megan’s nieces and nephews, where Megan is now.

Evonne, her mom told me that she found herself telling little Bella, and Bailey, Megan’s nieces, “Megan’s body is here, but her soul is in heaven.”

So the little ones tried to repeat it back, and get it right. They are really little, and really, really funny.

So they said, “ Oh, we get it. Her body goes in the ground, and her head goes to heaven.”

But then the other one argued. “No, no, her body goes to heaven, and her head stays in the ground.”

It’s still not clear. Where’s Megan?

Then there was another conversation went with the little ones:

They asked: “Is Auntie Meagan in her room?”

Evonne: “No, she’s gone to heaven.”

Response: “Can I have her room?”

It can be hard to know what to think, especially after you lose your Auntie.

Psalm 121 was one of Megan’s favorites.

I lift up my eyes to the mountains—
where does my help come from?

My help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip—
he who watches over you will not slumber;

indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you—
the Lord is your shade at your right hand;

the sun will not harm you by day,
nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm—
he will watch over your life

the Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore.

We adults are much like the little ones, we have trouble figuring it out.

Did Megan have NF? Yes. Was she protected by God? Yes.

God protected Megan. She believed that. He was her shade. He watched over her coming and going.

Protection isn’t getting everything we want; its having our souls, the core of our being, preserved no matter what our bodies are going through.

NF didn’t keep Megan from being Megan, from being social, cute, fun, tough, funny, free, herself, everywhere, always, Meganized, Meganista, Megatron, full and running over with Meganisms!

NF didn’t mean she wasn’t protected. We don’t hang our faith in God on our bodies, or on circumstances; we hang our faith in God, on God. Everything God allows, terrible or beautiful, unwanted or wanted, metastasized or normal — God surrounds it all and through it all he preserves the person he made for the time he want them to be them.

It isn’t that NF is good, or wanted, by God or us, but whole, healthy psyches can exist in unwhole, unhealthy bodies. We are all, or will someday all, be proof of that.

Divine protection, “the sun will not strike you by day or the moon by night,” means that God never lets the core of the core within the very quintessential core of us get lost during NF or cancer or divorce or death.

I sat in Megan’s room with her over the last week, her unconscious, my hand on her arm, time making it’s inexorably fast-slow slog toward infinity, life slowly leaking out of her, and I couldn’t help but noticed all the positive things on her bedroom wall.

There are little stars all over the ceiling in Megan’s room. She knew where to look, when things were hard, for protection. It was up.

One poster in her room asks, “Got heaven?”

She does!

Protected?

She is!

No part of Megan’s core, was lost, that hasn’t now been found, and treasured, and still protected, in another place by God.

There Now

Posted: November 11, 2013 in beautiful
Tags: , , , , ,
0

“It’s the little things that drive you crazy,” someone said to me recently.

It’s not.

It’s the little things that make you sane —  pats, pets, pills, lunch.

Today a friend of mine hugged me, my cat snoozed on my lap, I took my allergy medication (helps with the cat), I ate Fage Greek Yogurt with Mango Guanabanaso on it. Yum! The yogurt was so creamy, white and thick. When I turned the spoon upside down to coat my tongue with it, the yogurt stuck on the spoon — a Greekish, flavorish, ambrosish, mangoish, tartish, no-fat wow!

Is it not in the creamy white stuff of life, everyday’s manna, that we find reason to celebrate? Is it not in the small bits and bites of sustenance, the caloric fragments of our globe, that we are all reminded of the good that’s present here and become thankful?

A friend of mine is dying today. She’s twenty-nine. I’ve known her for a good twenty of those years. I sat with her and her mom today. We cried and laughed, hugged. Then, I went on with my day. I’m sad, it’s so broken, but life, tragic life, is still beautiful to me.

For it is in the tiny, everyday particles, the oxygen I breathe, the healthy yogurt fed bacteria in my body, the mot juste on my good friends lips —  in these that I live. I drift and anchor and float again in the micro-flotsam and mini-jetsam of life and death, and it is there that my tragic thankfulness is renewed.

We all tend to make a big deal out of big things —  the big wedding, the big pay check, the big career, big hair, big celebrities, the big life, big SUV’s, Las Vegas.

But all the big things are formed from small things, from particles, pieces, specks and micro specks. From the whale to the nit, our lives are made up like our beds, small stuff from the divine – fermions, hadrons and bosons, quarks and antiquarks.

Today I drove my daughter and her friend Steve home from the movies. Steve can’t talk, disabled from birth that way. But Steve can growl, and smile and pound my arm affectionately. So I growled at him, and he growled back, and he pounded me until I had to make the sign for “soft.”  It was good. It was some of the best communication I’ve had today — primitive, guttural, bits of phonemes, monosyllabic nonsense, cogent.  We yelled “no” to each other and laughed hilariously because we didn’t know why we were yelling “no,”  and thus it was all good, the no and yes and super-no. Steve and I hold to simple truth  — we like each other, and we talk, mostly without words.

It is in just this kind of broken, fragmented, providential reality, in the scraps, scintillas, shreds, shards and slivers which make up both life and death that we really begin to see things as they are; it is in the harboring and honoring of detail, irrational, rational, dark detail and bright detail, that we eventually have the sanity to say, “I am so thankful for such beautiful life.”

We can yell “no” all we want, and the big stuff that we don’t want to happen will still happen. But that isn’t all there is to it.

Threads, cusps, gobs, dabs, drops, edges, spots, shavings, spoonfuls —  look, don’t miss it, there, now, all around us spins the breath-taking, life-making, lift-you-up and knock-you-out-again gorgeousness of our lives.

“There now,” we sometimes say to our babies to calm them from upset.

“There, now,” I say to myself today, soothed by all the good God-given small stuff swirling ’round  my head.

Pruned!

Posted: November 5, 2013 in becoming
Tags: , , , , , , ,
0

In my back yard I have a tree. It’s a Ficus Benjamina, commonly known as the weeping fig or Benjamin’s Fig.

It has gracefully drooping branchlets and glossy leaves, and grows really fast and has really big roots and provides lots of shade. But it is not a safe tree. The United States Forest Service states about Ficus Benjamina, “Roots grow rapidly invading gardens, growing under and lifting sidewalks, patios, and driveways.”

A plumber once told me about a Ficus the knew that had gotten quite rowdy. It’s owners left their home for a few months, and when they came back, the tree had found it’s way into the drainage system and had sent up root into the toilet!

Yikes! What do you do with crazy, wild, destructive fig tree like that?

Well you could cut it down, but then you wouldn’t have that beautiful, glossy, green shade. To keep and manage my Ficus, I dug down in the ground and sawed through the roots that were headed for my house. And then I paid  a tree trimmer to have the top trimmed so that it wouldn’t get too big. I’m not sure this is good for my neighbors. My Ficus is now sending out roots in other directions. I noticed the other day that now my neighbor’s house seems to be tilting.

We humans are like Ficus. We get on with life, we get our acts together, we flourish, kind of, and yet no matter how much we sprout branches of forgiveness, redemption or respectability, our roots are often still wild, unruly, even  destructive. We all, at times, send out  damaging roots that get into sewer lines. Thirsty ever, we all, at times, sip from polluted sources.

Jesus talked about this kind of thing at length, teaching his followers that God pays attention to humanity’s arboreal diseases, and that as a result, God as earth’s gardener, is in the pruning business. Jesus explained this clearly saying, “I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener.  He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful …” John 15:1-2.

Fascinating! God hacks away at us —  to make us better! God  has in mind that we flourish, bloom, fruit. God has in mind that we be even more productive than we have in mind for ourselves. God, the grand gardener, wants to make us healthier, more beautiful and more useful than we ever imagined.

How? How does God prune? What tool does he use to cut? Through what means does he trim?

It seems to me that God prunes us, that he cuts the bad out of us, that he whacks off worthless branches, using other people.  People are his pruning shears. And I think that anyone can be used for this!

My doctor recently told me to stop drinking coffee and soda. I did. I feel better, and the symptoms I complained to him about, they are now gone. As a result, I am more productive. Doctors? Pruners!

My staff, over the last few years, have reminded and taught me to trust them, to work through them, to listen to their ideas, to not do it all myself. Good. Pruning! I am a better team player because of them.

My wife recently asked everyone in our family to take one hour on Saturday morning to help clean the house. She was tired of doing it alone. It is working! We are a better team because of it, a better family. Spouses? Pruners!

If we are open to truth, from other people, then we allow them to be God’s instruments to prune us!

To be beautiful, to flourish, we must come near to other people, serve alongside them, listen to their advice, come face-to-face with the issues we create, let our rowdy roots be trimmed back, let other people speak into our lives

This makes perfect sense. We need other people, to improve, excel, sprout, fruit!

Branches, you can’t thrive alone, you can’t prune yourselves, you can’t act as branch and lopper at the same time. You can’t see all your own faults; you don’t experience yourself as others do, and in truth, you can’t mature, bloom and fig alone.

Isolationism, hiding, aloneness, defensiveness, self-protectionism, egotism, arrogance — those don’t lead to bearing fruit. Of course we all hide, at times, and lick our cuts, and this can be healing, and we can at times self-correct and self-affirm, but eventually we get well, healthy and mature with the other branches, connected to the vine, not alone, but in community.

What to do?

Take advice. Invite advice. Go hunting for advice, for what other people think about you, what God thinks about you, your issues, the solutions. If you have a problem, if you are creating problems, if you are a problem, go looking for someone to trim you back. Go so far as to invite input, to invite feedback, to invite correction, to even invite a conflict if needed, so that you can invite a solution, a negotiation, a reconciliation. Do this, without delay, so that you can invite health back into yourself.

Pruning shears?  Loppers? Trimmers? Saws? Cutters?

You likely find them everywhere, living in your own home, working in your office, or studying with you at school. And they’ll likely be more than happy to chop away at you, gently I think, if politely invited.

And if you can take the prunning, and you can, you’ll be better for it.

The Latter Is Better

Posted: October 29, 2013 in becoming
Tags: , , , , , , ,
2

The Lord blessed the latter part of Job’s life more than the former part.

Job 42:12

I hear some whining from older people about getting old. Maybe it’s bragging. Whatever it is, it isn’t enlightened. Job’s second season was better than his first, and the same is true for many people as they age.

Older bodies may ache more, but older, mature, seasoned, calmed, wise, tough — it’s good!

Today I worked out, relaxed at home, read, reflected, ate mostly veggies and whole grains, sent out writings for publication, hung out with my wife, fluffed my fluffy cats, shopped for healthy food and was mostly at peace with myself. I honored my body, my mind and my soul —  better than I did when I was younger.

Older is good for me.

Why? It is more, in so many ways. Old has more memories, knows more people, has more wisdom, can be more generous and has the potential to live inside a stream-polished, storm-calmed, well-seasoned self.

Old has some less in it, of course, less physical strength, less beauty, perhaps less opportunity to contribute, but it has a lot of more in it too.

Consider Job; he ended his days with more sheep, camels, oxen, donkeys, sons, daughters and grandchildren, and with more awareness the value of God, health, good friends and of a humbled self.

Job was given the gift of old age. It was the gift of having lost, and gained, been lonely, then loved, of having known, and then not known.

Seasoned, for Job, was knowing what he didn’t know and knowing what he did know and of being at peace with both. The same for us.

Seasoned, like Job, tossed a bit by life, we too can make friends with our ignorance and come to peace with what we do know.

The years — they can carry us up high.

For it is aging, that brings us, like Moses, to the top of the sacred mountain, where we can see. Having been sick, we can look out and see the glory of well, having lost friends and investments, we can apprehend the value of our lasting gains, having been lonely, we can gaze from the mountain on the stunning beauty of remaining friends and family.

The latter part of life, for many of us — it is better.

 

On Getting Along

Posted: October 21, 2013 in conflicts
Tags: , , , , ,
1

Our governing leaders have had some significant difficulty working together lately.

It gets me to wondering: Why aren’t we doing better thinking and leading in the United States?

A simple explanation comes to mind. Good thinking and good leadership don’t happen when we operate from inside of a limited mindset, within a tightly closed box of ideas, within only one perspective, when we have to win at all cost. To take an extreme point of view on an issue, and not to be able to see the two or three sides of a problem — such narrow, reductive, boxed-in, political-party kind of thinking — it doesn’t usually solve problems.

Yesterday my cats started licking each other, then they began wrestling a bit. I told them to stop. That kind of thing — it always results in the end in some hind-leg kicking and some sharp-tooth biting. I don’t want a vet bill.

Whenever I find myself disagreeing with someone, having a conversation within my own mind about how messed up they are, having gotten myself upset over something they have said, done or not done, then I find a need right away to begin to calm myself down, to remind myself that they have reasons for what they have said or done. This must be done, in order for my brain to keep working well, and to keep me from biting them!

To think well we must calm down our revved up.

Calm, me calm, you calm — it  means we can actually have a safe conversation where we do something very needed in the midst of human discord. We can invite the conflict. We can have the conflict, instead of isolating, hiding, polarizing, running, in panic, and gushing it all out to someone else who can’t do anything about it. We can talk it out, instead of digging in and refusing to bend and wrecking the relationship.

Someone told me yesterday, “We have some differences.” I invited them to lunch, stayed calm, and over food we had the best conversation. They left feeling heard; me too. While we don’t think the same way on everything, we were reminded of how much we are alike on the really important things, and I am looking forward to working well together in the future.

If I can invite you to tell me how you really feel, and I can really listen, then perhaps you can invite me to talk a bit about how I really feel, and you can listen, which might result, in time, with some decent dialogue in which we actually understand each other and work out a solution.

We need in this country, our leaders and ourselves, to better learn the art of negotiation. Marriage, friendship, parenting, work teams, friendships — all social groups must negotiate differences to survive. They must sit at the table, left-wing and right, liberal and conservative, extroverted and introverted, emotional and rational, black and white, poor and rich, big and little, young and old, this and that, up and down, in and out and they must talk, listen, respond, listen, talk some more and come to an understanding.

My wife told me recently that she wanted to get away to a resort, relax together —  in Temecula.

“Temecula,” I fumed, “I never thought of that as a destination!”

We are going this week.

Why?

I want her to be happy, and if I can see the validity of her perspective, “We are working too much; Temecula is close; they have some nice places to stay; it will be warm,,” then I’ll have fun and get a much-needed rest too.

It helps, as we try to live together, to give ground a little. We meet the need of the other. It isn’t a win-lose we are looking if we are to keep liking each other. We are looking, in conflict, for a win-win, for a we-do-this-that-you-want and a little-bit-of-that-which-I-want. That’s good relating. That works; it makes people happy.

Our political issues need such an approach; otherwise, we are going to have too much kicking and biting.

Saving money is wise; so is spending  money when something needs to be bought.

All human beings need to see doctors; but medical care must be managed in ways affordable and fair.

The use of force is sometimes needed to stop evil; it is also often essential to lay down arms and find peaceful solutions.

Making sure everyone is responsible is good; and it is also good to care of those who can’t take care of themselves.

I could go on. Life is never simple. There will always be competing perspectives. But what we need to do is to calm down, dialogue more, listen more and really work on understanding each other. If we are to ever grow up, become mature, gain social ground, then we must learn to care for and even have affection for people we disagree with.

We must nuance our thinking more, understand competing points of view better and come to shared solutions that work, that help, that lead the way forward to getting along.

“They’re wrong!”  and “I’m mad” — that won’t get us to the right place.

It will just result in a big vet bill.

Weakness: It’s Bonding!

Posted: October 15, 2013 in Uncategorized
0

We lie.

Mostly, it’s what we don’t, won’t and virtually can’t reveal about ourselves.

We can’t let people see our cellulite. And they mustn’t get a clean, clear shot of our tummy fat. A surgery scar, covered; hearing aid, miniaturized; baldness, shaved into invisibility; bad skin, caked with cosmetic coverings.

We buy clothing to hide our small this, and we buy more to hide our big that. Body dysmorphic disorder — it’s bon vivant.  

It’s the same inside. Greed — we have to keep it as hidden as our credit card debit; envy — deny it; petty critcalness — hide it under false compliments; massive egotism — blanket it in false humility and rush it out the back door before some shouts, “Fire!”

It’s too bad, really, the forbidden-hidden, the covered imperfections, the smothered realities, even the closeted sins and finely coiffed failings–these keeps us from each other.

Consider this; it is massively hard on a family when one person becomes a super star. When one shines, gets rich, famous, pampered, adored, most everyone else suffers, in the shadow, with their “less than her,” and their “not at great as him.” Why? Mostly, we anguish as a result of our own massive insecurity, and secondly, from the great ones hidden imperfections. Our falseness, their lie —  we die

What is it that actually bonds us to each other? it is mostly our weaknesses. Strengths are off-putting; they separate us from the pack, they raise us above the herd.  But our weaknesses, our frailties, our imperfections, now there is ground on which to slum together.

Last Sunday I went into a children’s class at the church and an older woman was holding a five-year old, both arms around her as they watched C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe. The movie was a little scary for the little one, but held, she was fine, good, smiling, safe.

It is the same for us. If we will uncover, show a little skin, some poochy flesh, some pouty epidermis, some fear, some less-than-noble, some downright human nastiness, then we might just give someone else a chance to see nothing incredibly, fashionably, imperfectly less than the real us!

And furthermore, if we could be okay with being who we really are, then the rest of our beautiful, free, self-loving personality might just come out and get loved. It takes a lot of work to fake it, to cover up, to make up a persona and dress it nicely, and it makes us too uptight to be fun.

Falsity — it’s dull, humorless, anxious, self-conscious and boring.

If we would reveal what we are really feeling — afraid, anxious, jealous, crazy, happy, sad — we might just get hugged. Bald, someone might pat us on the head. Imperfect curves, we might just be able to laugh about it with someone who looks the same!

If we would lie less, perhaps we would live out the fun, crazy imperfect truth of ourselves more.

Randy Hasper

Randy Hasper

Go to the ant!

Posted: October 9, 2013 in clarity
Tags: , , , , , , ,
0

Blue fescue is gorgeous! It sports tuffs of fine bluish-green leaves that color team beautifully with mounds of gold, orange, and maroon daisies. Together, fescue and daisies make a superb floral blanket. I like blue fescue so much I planted it in my back yard.

How did I know about it?  I saw it growing someplace; I got some of my own.

Yesterday I tripped on a door frame. Conclusions come to mind: The person who refuses to use their eyes will fall down in broad daylight.

I’m thinking these days that looking around pays off, particularly when gardening, and walking — or driving.

Two of my friends were recently in car accidents. In both cases, the other driver wasn’t paying attention, slammed into them, hard. I’ve been looking more carefully as I pass into intersections — self-preservation.

My doctor told me this week to quit drinking coffee. Yikes! He observed that it might be affecting me in an unhealthy way. Interesting, because I have often observed coffee affecting me in really good ways. It has often made my brain function. But I hadn’t observed a negative side effect. He did. I quit. The other part of my body is better. I am now, however, having trouble concentrating.

Accurate observations and the conclusions that flow from them can make life better. I just came back from the gym. Why? It is my observation that I look and feel better when I am regularly working out.

I know some very spiritual people who live with a lot of  “I feel like God wants me to …” and “I think the Lord is saying,” and “I’m just trusting God to do whatever he wants.”

I say things like this too sometimes. These are good people; they have a lot of faith, but there is sometimes a problem with the eyes-only-on-God approach. With only that, you can trip over a door frame.

Looking at one thing we miss another. We may miss the blue fescue. Looking one way we are hit from another. We may be broadsided in an intersection by a car that ran the light. Looking at one benefit, we may miss the harm in the benefit. Coffee may have some unhealthy side effects for some people.

Here is the deal. Christians should keep their eyes open. There is nothing spiritual about being inattentive to reality. I was talking to a Christian recently who seemed to have a deep mistrust in science. He kept pointing out how science might not have it right in regard to the age of the universe, the origins of man or genetics influence on certain human behaviors.  Interestingly, he isn’t a scientist, but he is skeptical.

That seems pretty par for the course with the Christians these days. I can’t remember last time I heard a sermon encouraging Christians to learn from science, to study science, to use the scientific method, to be better observers, to base their decisions on evidence, to test all their theories against reality, to “test everything,” although that phrase is straight from scripture and almost all true believers head to the doctor’s office for a scientific analysis of their bodies as soon as they get sick. There we all want them to “test everything.”

I love the proverbs, the wisdom of them, the observational truths they hold out to us, their science. “Go to the ant … and be wise!” In other words, base your life on what you can see around you, on evidence, on observation, on good science.

Jesus himself was very scientifically minded. He kept observing and pointing to reality. Consider the birds. Consider the lilies of the field. Consider the sower. Consider the sin. Which of you is without it?

” Look,” Jesus was always saying, behold this, see that, think about this, conclude from that. Look at clouds, rain, sun, seed, soil, rock, field, farmer — and grow wise. Observation? It’s smart; it’s helpful; it can be trusted; it’s holy.

Lately, I observed that I need more sleep. It comes from not drinking coffee. I’m getting healthier, by observation, and action.

Lately, I observed that God often doesn’t interfere and stop people from harming each other. They harm. They run red lights. Nothing stops them. They crash other people. I’m sad, and more vigilant.

Today, I observed the rain falling here in Southern California, after months of dryness, and am reminded that God rains down refreshment on all of us. He is good, even when we aren’t. I see this. It is right in front of me. My blue fescue is being watered.

It’s an observation, and it’s good.

It’s science.

It’s more than that.

Staying in touch with reality, it’s holy living.

We Flicker

Posted: September 24, 2013 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , , , , ,
1

For the last six weeks I have eaten almost perfectly, lean and green and whole grained. This weekend I had a food event at a wedding, a food episode. I could be convicted as a glutton. Perhaps not. I flicker.

I eat healthily; I do not. I am centered; I wander. I am disciplined; it ends.

I’m not alone, and this issue is not isolated to one area of life.

No one is one, at anything; everyone is many, at everything. We humans may have simple stomachs compared to the four chambered ruminants, but we have many chambered minds. A single human mind is a walk in closet, a veritable mansion of mentalities, a thousand-selved bookcase of choices.

We tend to miss this. We think of each other in over-generalizations, mobile reductionisms, linguistic cubby holes —  introvert, extrovert, abusive, loving, mean, kind, great souled, vacuous, addicted, not. A person may be shy, but not shy around everyone; another person may  be very social but sometimes wanting nothing but to be alone.

We say, “She is so smart!” or “He is so funny!”  or “They are so disciplined!” but people who are smart do dumb things, and people who are funny are often not, and disciplined people aren’t always. No one is always funny or always smart or always good or alway bad.

We flicker, spark, flash, go off, come on again.

Resident in us — latent, lurking — are many personalities, many conlicting behaviors, many opposing tendencies, and we do better when we admit this, accept this, tap into this. It helps avoid embarrassing surprises. “Oh, I just acted like a jerk! That’s okay, I knew that was in me!”

Reality is nuanced. We think better when we accept that. Take the Bible. We do the same thing with it that we do with persons. We reduce it to rough propositions, principles, doctrines, stereotypes, over-generalizations. But the Bible isn’t simple; it presents reality as complex, conflicted and complicated.

The Bible doesn’t present one view of human nature, but several, not one kind of righteousness but many, not one view of men and women but several that are not easy to reconcile. In scripture human nature is nuanced, made in the image of God and therefore good, subject to harmful choices and therefore bad. Righteousness is by the law and therefore impossible; it is by grace and therefore accessible. Women are seen as less than men (Leviticus 27) and equal to men (Galatians 3:28).

What is needed to be wise, to think well, is a sense of the muti-dimensionality of truth. Truth is not derived from a simplistic formula. Every principle isn’t applicable to every situation.

And what is needed to think accurately about people is a nuanced sense of personhood. A person is not confined to the single side of them that we saw today.

And God, God does not fit into the tiny mental cubbies we put him in order to try to explain him.

What is needed everywhere is an assessment that takes into account the whole. A book should be judged not by its cover but by every word in it. A person should not be imprisoned in the definition suggested by one incident, one moment or even one year or one era of their life. Truth isn’t defined by interpretation of a single event.

Things change! Reality turns to us its many sides. That’s good! People change! They aren’t defined by one behavior. That’s super good!

What to do?

Step back, see more, withhold judgement, avoid reductive thinking, read and interpret the whole book, stay open, think freely, see new possibilities, allow for change to take place as you wait for it over long, long stretches of time, give the freedom for yourselves and others to be inconsistent, allow the world to be what it is — complex, not perfect, wildly beautiful — flickering.

Older Entries
Newer Entries