Tuesday, February 26, 2019
I read a wonderful transcript yesterday on the NPR website. It was a story about anger, and how contagious it is. It was also a story about contagious compassion. (You can read and/or listen to the story at https://wysu.org/content/npr/anger-can-be-contagious-heres-how-stop-spread, accessed 02-26-2019.)
It seems that a gentleman by the name of Michael Beatty was angry with a comedian/actor named Patton Oswalt. It seems that Oswalt had tweeted something negative about President Trump. So, Beatty sent two harsh tweets to and about Oswalt.
Oswalt joked back with Beatty, but Oswalt did something else: He scrolled through Beatty’s twitter feed. Oswalt found out that Beatty had some heavy-duty medical bills. So, Oswalt sent a check for $2,000 to Beatty’s GoFundMe campaign, and encouraged his followers to do the same.
It isn’t just that people sent money or encouraging notes to Beatty. This whole incident caused him to take a hard look at himself. That was good and helpful. But something else happened as well. Beatty says that is becoming a better, less angry person.
I think that I became a slightly better person, just by reading the transcript. Like Mr. Beatty, I sometimes am a very angry person. Like Mr. Beatty, I frequently smart off. Like Mr. Beatty, I am touched and humbled and changed by the generosity of others.
The Bible speaks of overcoming evil with good. It speaks of doing good, even to those who have done us evil. It says that we are to bless those who curse us. You can google it to find out the references. I assure you, these things really are in the Bible.
But the question that often feels like a splinter in my mind is this: Do I in fact practice these virtues? Yes, I know that these things are in the Bible, but are they in me? Am I overcoming evil with good? Do I do good to others, no matter what? Do I bless even those who curse me?
And the answer is, yes, I do . . . sometimes. Sometimes needs to become more often than not. Indeed, I hope that at some point, in time or in eternity, contagious compassion will consume me. Only when it does will I be truly alive and truly myself.
Monday, February 25, 2019
Our time is coming to an end soon here in Florida. My goal is to enjoy the last few days we have here. I’ve had a really wonderful time. The warmth and sunshine have been delicious. So has the food. Long walks on the beach, miniature golf, the flowers, and seagulls—all wonderful! And, of course, being with my sweetheart, my wife, has been a great treat.
However, it will be good to be
Our time on earth will also end soon. We need to enjoy it, to cherish it, to take good care of the earth, of one another, of ourselves. But soon, we’ll be going home.
Paul reminds the Philippians that their real citizenship is in Heaven. (Philippians 3:20) Why did he need to remind them? Because they, like all of us, were prone to forget.
C.S. Lewis says that God gives us some nice inns along the way, but he never lets us mistake them for home.
The Greco-Roman philosopher Epictetus says something similar.
“Consider when, on a voyage, your ship is anchored; if you go on shore to get water you may along the way amuse yourself with picking up a shellfish, or an onion. However, your thoughts and continual attention ought to be bent towards the ship, waiting for the captain to call on board; you must then immediately leave all these things, otherwise you will be thrown into the ship, bound neck and feet like a sheep.
So it is with life. If, instead of an onion or a shellfish, you are given a wife or child, that is fine. But if the captain calls, you must run to the ship, leaving them, and regarding none of them. But, if you are old, never go far from the ship: lest, when you are called, you should be unable to come in time.”
Enjoy life, wherever you are, but don’t miss the boat!
“Hear my prayer, O LORD,
and give ear to my cry;
hold not your peace at my tears!
For I am a sojourner with you,
a guest, like all my fathers. (Psa. 39:12)
“The land shall not be sold in perpetuity, for the land is mine. For you are strangers and sojourners with me.” (Leviticus 25:23)
“For we are strangers before you and sojourners, as all our fathers were. Our days on the earth are like a shadow, and there is no abiding.” (1 Chronicles 29:15)
We often speak of the Land of Canaan being “given” to Israel. This is both true and false. Or, at least, it is the truth, but not the whole truth.
The truth is that the Israelites never owned the land. As the three Old Testament verses quoted at the beginning of this post indicate, the Israelites were always to realize that they were sojourners, resident aliens if you will.
I wonder if this might help to inform our current debate about resident, illegal immigrants in our midst. How might it change things if we realized that we are all resident aliens?
Of course, there are other, more personal reasons for me to be kind to resident aliens. My ancestors came from eastern France and Ireland. Were they legal immigrants? I very much doubt it. My people were poor. I am not simply the descendant of immigrants. I am likely the descendant of people who were here illegally. I am reminded of the American Indian in Arizona, who was listening to some of the locals bad-mouthing illegal immigrants. “They should all just go home,” said one Anglo resident. “I agree,” said the Indian.
Yes, God gives us many good things. Yes, I believe in “home ownership.” However, I put “home ownership” in quotes because it is a highly questionable, tentative thing. If nothing else, death will put an end to my illusion to my ownership of anything—including life itself. A very wealthy person died. One of his acquaintances asked a friend of his, “How much did he leave?” His friend replied with one word: “Everything!”
But the good news is that God is a sojourner with us. Or, rather, we sojourn with God. Holding things lightly doesn’t mean that we take things lightly. It might mean that we would be freed up to enjoy them more. And I have discovered that things I enjoy, I also take pretty good care of.
I am in Florida right now. In a few days, we will be leaving. It has been a wonderful stay in a very nice rental home. However, we have not mistaken it for home. When we get to our “home” up north, it will be good for us to remember that that is not our ultimate home either.
I was once asked (in some kind of survey) if this was our “permanent residence.” I answered, “No, we don’t have one.” I thought it was a good answer at the time. I haven’t changed my mind.
It all began with a long walk and run—mostly a walk—to Coquina Beach from Manatee Beach. I was walking along the shaded walkway that runs along the beach, listening to the You Version Bible, using my smart phone and earbuds. Every now and again, I looked out at the gulf. One time when I looked, I saw a beached sand shark. I decided to have a closer look.
Okay, so it wasn’t really a beached sand shark. It was a shark sculpted by someone using sand. It was quite nicely done. The artist had even put some shells on the shark to simulate barnacles.
After admiring the shark, I walked for a while on the beach. A lady was hunting for shells at the edge of the water.
“Finding any good shells?” I asked. It was just a friendly question, not meant as a lead-in to a deep-water conversation.
“Yes,” she replied, holding out several very fine shells. (They appeared to be fighting conch shells, but I have not yet begun to fight my ignorance about marine life.)
The lady seemed to be open to a more lengthy conversation. People at the beach often are. Something about being away from your usual dailiness, I suppose. So I said, “Just a moment, and let me put the Scriptures on hold.”
“Oh!” she said, “I am trying to read through the Bible this year!” But then she looked a little ashamed and said, “I started off the year well, but I have a two-and-a-half-year-old little guy, and . . .” she trailed off.
“Oh, my, well maybe you had better adopt the two- or three- or five-year Bible reading plan,” I said.
We chatted for a little while about small children and potty training and the Bible and its frustratingly wonderful properties. It turns out that she is a writer, who hardly has time to write. She has volunteered to write for her church newsletter, and I told her that was a good idea. “Robert Fulghum’s published writing began as pieces he wrote for his church newsletter.” She did not immediately recognize the author’s name, but immediately reacted when I spoke of his first and greatest book—All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten.
“I love that book!” she exclaimed.
I spoke of just writing a little each day, even if it is a very short sentence. I spoke of being willing to write badly so that you could learn to write better. I spoke of Stephen Covey’s concept of working in your circle of influence, rather than in your circle of concern. In other words, I was speaking to myself as much as I was to the lady.
Before we parted, I had prayer for her on the beach. She offered me one of the three shells she had collected, the largest, most perfectly formed one. I turned it down, but took the smallest one. “But it’s broken,” she protested. “I know,” I replied.
The whole encounter took maybe fifteen minutes. Nothing profound was spoken by me. Nevertheless, I felt—and I think the lady also felt—that it was what David Mains of the Fifty Day Spiritual Adventure would call “a God sighting.” Our meeting was not an accident.
We are not often called to do big things or to say profound things. Sometimes, we are just called to have an encouraging conversation with someone. And, in the long run, that can be more profound than we know.
“We move forward, only forward. The doors behind us are closed forever.
Facing
what comes to us, with strength, is a gift from this program we share. Letting
go of the yesterdays and the last years is another gift offered by this
program. And trust that what we face along with what we let go will weave the
pattern of our rightful unfolding–that is the ultimate gift given to us by
this program.
I need never go back again. I am spared that. My destiny lies in the future.
And I can be certain it will bring me all that I desire, and more.”
(From Each Day a New Beginning: Daily Meditations for Women by Karen Casey)
“Forgetting what lies behind . . .” (Philippians 3:13, The Apostle Paul)
When a door closes behind me—whether it closes quietly, squeaks, or slams—I tend to turn around. This may be prudent when it comes to literal doors. It is definitely unwise when it comes to a door in the fabric of time.
Perhaps it would be better for me to think of closed doors as something “I am spared . . . ,” as Casey says.
I was recently watching a bit of a T.V. show (“Timeless” perhaps?) about a team of people and their attempt to thwart bad past events. I was lost. Now, I had never watched the show before, and that may have been part of the problem. Also, I came into this particular episode in the middle of things. However, I suspect that the main reason I was so lost was simply this: In the story world of “Timeless,” changing the past is a very difficult thing to do.
In truth, changing anything is tricky. Changing the past, even if it were possible, is the law of unintended consequences on steroids.
In Philippians 3:1-14, the Apostle Paul listed some of the wonderful gifts he had been given, and his accomplishments in his B.C. (“Before Christ”) days. He then precedes to say that these things are now “rubbish” to him.
And then Paul says one of the wisest, most contradictory things ever said. He says that he “forgets” what is behind (verse 13).
Now, I will admit that, at first blush, this does not seem wise. In fact, it sounds completely contradictory. How can you say that you are forgetting certain things, when you just made an itemized list of those very things?
Studying Hebrew and Greek gave me a new slant on remembering and forgetting. In both Hebrew (which Paul knew) and in Greek (in which he wrote) the words for “remembering” and “forgetting” can refer to more than our translations suggest. To “remember” can, and sometimes does, mean “to focus on someone or something.” To “forget” means “to refuse to focus on someone or something.”
So, what Paul seems to be saying is that he no longer focuses on his past. Recall, yes. Focus, no.
The doors in my past, in your past, have closed. This is not bad news. In fact, it is profoundly good news. The present has enough joys, enough sorrows, enough problems, enough opportunities. I find that, when I really believe that, I can do one of two things. Either I rejoice in this present moment, or I am able to endure this present problem or sorrow.
And, with the Apostle Paul and with Karen Casey, I can face today and tomorrow with a nice blend of quiet acceptance and eager anticipation.
It all started with my wife’s desire for a hotdog, and my desire to please my wife. It ended with my wife and me in a very volatile situation at a hotdog stand. I was afraid it might be our last hotdog and our last stand.
So, we are at the beach. We have been here for going on three weeks. We’ve eaten seafood out, and seafood in. We’ve also enjoyed burgers and chicken.
But for a day or two before the hotdog stand incident, my wife had been having a craving for a hotdog. No, she’s not pregnant—I’m pretty sure.
So, after we had spent the day with some friends at Tarpon Springs, we were headed back to our “home” at Holmes Beach. We tracked down a hotdog stand in Bradenton. It had a good rating online, so we navigated to it.
Before we could place our order, the lady taking the order (who was also the cook, I suspect) asked if we could wait five minutes. She was cooking a couple of Cubans.
I was making some silly comment to my wife about feeling sorry for the Cubans, when there was a disturbance around the corner of the very small building. I poked my head around the corner just in time to see a young man grabbing a girl, while mouthing obscenities. She pulled away from him, also mouthing obscenities. I think her final word was “crazy!” The rest of the words will not be repeated here.
At this point, the young man walked around the corner of the building, so my wife was aware of what was going on.
A biker type guy (a very large biker type guy) sitting at a picnic table stood up, and pointed out certain aspects of the young guy’s parental origins. “I’m trying to run a business here! Get out of here!”
All of this happened far faster than it has taken me to write it.
At this point, I did a very foolish thing. Instead of saying to my wife, “We’re leaving—now!” and suiting the action to the words, I asked a question: “Do you think we should leave?”
Now, my wife is a person of strong desires, and not easily intimidated. Also, she really wanted a hotdog. “No, I want to order our food,” she said.
I had read Proverbs 22:3 earlier in the day. “The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty.” It would seem that I am better at underlining verses, or teaching about Scriptures, than I am at living them out. I stood there while we ordered our Detroit style hotdogs, with Fritos and Barq’s root beer.
The young man had walked away, and we thought that maybe the storm had blown over. It hadn’t.
After we had ordered our hotdogs (with onions, mustard, and sauce), the young man came back, still mouthing off. I thought about what to do, and decided that, if push came to shove, I would do my best to sit on the young man. I am neither brave, nor strong, nor young, but I figured that maybe I could use my table muscles for something. How I was going to get him down, I had no idea, but hey! First things first! First, you sit on him, then you get him down on the ground! Right?
However, at this point, things took an even more serious turn. The big, biker dude pulled out a gun and pointed it at the young man.
At this point, the lady inside the hotdog stand urged us to come inside. We didn’t need a lot of persuasion. She locked the door behind us.
I had wondered from the first moment of this incident if I shouldn’t call the police. Why didn’t I? I can answer that in three ways. In the first place, this all happened really fast, and felt surrealistic. It is the kind of thing you read about in the newspaper, but of course it never happens to you—until, of course, it does happen to you.
Second, there have been several highly publicized cases in which such situations resulted in the death of one or more policemen, others, or both. Sometimes, when even well-meaning people call the police, things don’t work out well. My belief is that police and those who call them are generally well-meaning. However, such a call does often tend to escalate situations.
Third (and my real explanation for why I didn’t dial 911) is quite simple: I don’t know.
Well, all that to one side. We did get our Detroit-style hotdogs, things settled down, and we got in our car, and ate our messy hotdogs on the way home. I hadn’t had such an exciting evening since I stopped closing down the bars when I was in my early twenties. And I will live just as long, and die just as happy, if I never have any such adventures again in this lifetime.
In reflecting on the incident, I think I may have learned several things.
First, I am not nearly as courageous as I never thought I was to begin with. In fact, I’m pretty much a coward.
Second, I am not nearly as prudent as I need to be. My wife’s desire for a hotdog should not have been allowed to trump both of our good senses. I should have protected my wife (and myself) by getting out of Dodge while the getting was good.
Third, sometimes, if you take no action at all, things work out.
One of the lessons that I did not draw from the incident was that I should start packing heat. In this case, no shots were fired. If I had pulled out my piece, it wouldn’t necessarily have solved anything. It would, however, have complicated matters. And things were complicated enough as it was.
Well, my wife and I still like hotdogs. And they really were good hotdogs, and fairly priced. However, I hope that, in the future, I will be more prudent. Doing something stupid (like staying at the hotdog stand too long), simply because you are trying to do something thoughtful (provide your wife with a hotdog) is the sort of thing that only a fool would do. I may never be all that courageous, but I could probably at least work on being a bit more cautious.
DTEB, “Of Locked Doors and Peace Missions”
“Peace be with you. As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” (John 20:21)
My “3-Minute Retreat” from Loyola Press today was a meditation on John 20:21. This verse is embedded in an incident recorded in John’s Gospel. Just after Jesus’ resurrection, the disciples were still terrified. They were huddled together in an upper room of a house, with the door locked because of fear.
I can identify with that. You see, I have lots of locked doors behind which I hide. Some are locked from the outside—or, at least, that is what I tell myself. Other doors, I myself have locked. Sometimes, I pretend that I can even lock God out of my life. However, “pretend” is the operative word in the preceding sentence.
Or is “pretend” the operative word? Maybe “God” is the operative word.
Yes, I think that’s it!
As the retreat master pointed out, in the verses just before John 20:21, we are told that the disciples were in the upper room with the door locked (vs. 19). However, it would seem that the risen Jesus is not terribly impressed with locked doors. He simply dematerialized on one side of the door, and rematerialized on the other. Apparently, if this is the least desire for faith, Jesus will enter. The desire, and the love and desperation that provoke that desire, are the only key that Jesus needs to enter our lives.
Vs. 20 tells of the joy of the disciples when Jesus showed them his hands and side. I can hear them saying to themselves and to one another, “Yep! That’s Jesus alright!”
What I need is a John 20:20 vision of a LORD who suffered for my sins and for the sins of the whole world, but who is not intimidated by my locked doors, or by anyone’s locked doors.
But this story from John is not simply about Jesus overcoming my fear and locked doors. It is about sending me out to the world on a peace mission. I am called to proclaim peace to everyone else. In this same story, we are told that peace is a matter of knowing that our sins are forgiven. And we are given the Holy Spirit to make our calling effective.
Make no mistake about it. Jesus has not sent his disciples to a serene mountain retreat. No. Jesus sends us into a battle. The world is a war zone. Our wars, both individual and collective ones, are the bitter fruit of our fears.
I suspect that we would all go back to hiding behind locked doors, if it were not for two things.
First, Jesus comes to us through our locked doors. After a while, perhaps we begin to say to ourselves, “Oh, what’s the use? He is going to show up anyway. Why not just throw the doors wide open?”
Second, we eventually realize that being locked in a room, even if it is locked from the inside, isn’t all that much of an adventure. And Christ’s peace mission is nothing, if not an adventure.
Are you up for an adventure?
Usually, we think of heroes as police men and women who risk their lives every day, and sometimes give their lives trying to save someone else. Or firemen, who also risk everything to preserve life and property. Or soldiers, who risk or lose their lives saving others.
True enough. No argument there.
However, there are other kinds of heroes. They are harder to identify. They don’t usually think of themselves as heroes. They come in all flavors. Some are female; some are male; some are old, some are young, and some between young and old. Some are quiet and some are very outgoing.
My wife has always been a great encourager to me. Whether it was getting my Ph.D. or fixing a light switch with a short in it, she has helped me believe that I could do what I couldn’t. So, I did it!
One of my best students in an all-star class on Old Testament Theology, Dustin, is such a hero. He sent me a two-sentence email of encouragement this morning. “Thank you . . . . . I’ve really enjoyed the OT class and have been extremely thankful for the lengths you’ve gone to be flexible and make the content engaging and relevant!”
Have you ever noticed that it is not the length or eloquence of encouraging words that make the most impression? No, it is the depth of the encouragement and the timing. Dustin’s deep words and his timing were exquisite.
I wrote Dustin back the following email:
“Dear Dustin,
I had a rather frustrating ending to the day yesterday. It was not necessarily anyone’s fault, not even my own. But it was frustrating, nevertheless. I so appreciated your kind words. I needed them!
I have been listening to Andy Stanley’s “Your Move” podcasts, titled “Me and My Big Mouth.” Today, I am going to listen to part 3, on the positive power of words. (Stanley has already talked in part 2 about the negative power of words.) As I listen to the podcast, I will be thinking of your kindness in taking some of your precious time to email me with powerfully encouraging words. I also plan to write a blog post for my website, in which you will feature prominently. My tentative title for the post is “Being Heroes of Encouragement.” Would you rather be “Dustin” or “a student of mine”?”
Dustin assured me that I could use either, so I used both.
This is a kind of hero that does not require superpowers, or superior people. Anyone can encourage.
The Bible talks about the importance of encouragement a great deal.
God is the great Encourager!
“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” (Isaiah 41:10)
When I was in seminary, I learned about God the creator, God the holy one, God the all-knowing one, and so on. But I was never told about God the encourager.
But encouragement is not just about God. It is about us as well.
“And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.” (Hebrews 10:24-25)
The author of Hebrews encouraged encouragement. So should we.
Be a hero! Encourage someone today. Being a hero might be easier than you think.
“9The true light, which gives light to everyone, was coming into the world. 10 He was in the world, and the world was made through him, yet the world did not know him. 11 He came to his own, and his own peopledid not receive him. 12 But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, 13 who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God.” (John 1:9-13, English Standard Version)
My students teach me a great deal. I hope that I teach them something as well.
For example, this week I have been having my Old Testament Theology class discuss online the matter of insiders and outsiders in the Old Testament. In reporting on the fact that he had done all the readings, here is what one of my students, Ivan, wrote:
“ ‘Hello Sir,
I have completed the readings for this week. I had never really given much thought to how much inclusivity there actually is in the Old Testament.’
That set off all kinds of fireworks in my heart and mind. My reply to him was as follows:
‘Probably, most of us don’t really see this. There are probably many reasons.
For one thing, most of us get hung up on the “kill-everything-that-breathes” passages. These are fairly rare, but they do occur. We get hung up on them, either to justify them, or to explain them away, or whatever.
Whatever the reasons why we do it, we fail to see how many times the Bible—yes, even the Old Testament—speaks positively about “outsiders.”
I suspect that the truth is this: Since we were expelled from the Garden, we have all been outsiders.
Of course, the ultimate Outsider was Jesus. But he became an insider, one of us, so that we might become insiders. Love tends to do that.”
Do you feel as if your life is out of control, chaotic, or at least disorganized? Welcome to my world!
Or, on the other hand, do you feel as if your life lacks spontaneity? Again, welcome to my world!
Perhaps you are like me, and you struggle with both order and spontaneity. Take heart! You might be able to make progress in both directions at the same time.
Here is my 12-step affirmation for today:
“Today, by God’s grace and with His strong help, I am choosing to act in a more orderly way. This frees me up to be more spontaneous, since I am not always immersed in chaos.”
I do not think that order and spontaneity are sworn enemies. In fact, I suspect that they are close friends and traveling companions.
Of course, order can degenerate into rigidity and compulsive behavior. Spontaneity can become chaos. An unbalanced virtue is just a vice in disguise.
On the other hand, it doesn’t have to be so. My wife is one of the most organized (and organizing) people I’ve ever known. After forty-five years of marriage, it occurs to me that this is one of the many things that attracted me to her in the first place. It is still one of the many things that attracts me to her.
But my wife is also one of the most spontaneous, playful people I’ve ever known. And that also was and is attractive. Last night, she got me to play a card game called “Slamwich.” We found the game on a shelf in our rental apartment. She read through the directions, and we played it. It was more fun than I thought it would be. (I won! This of course helped make it more fun.)
Did you catch the order in the previous paragraph? She read the rules and then we played. Order (rules) and spontaneity (play).
I, on the other hand, am sometimes neither orderly nor spontaneous. However, I am doing better these days. And I have noticed that when I am doing better on either order or spontaneity, I tend to do better on both.
There is a wonderful old Christian hymn, based on a poem by John Greenleaf Whittier, which contains this exquisite prayer:
“Drop Thy still dews of quietness
till all our strivings cease;
take from our lives the strain and stress
and let our ordered lives confess
the beauty of Thy peace.”
I believe that God is not simply orderly. I believe that God is the Orderer. And our lives most definitely should confess the beauty of his peace.
However, I also believe that God is wonderfully spontaneous. He is always doing new things (Isaiah 43:19). Perhaps more orderliness would help us all to confess not only the beauty of God’s peace, but also God’s playful spontaneity.
Proverbs 8 tells us that wisdom is God’s oldest creation, there before anything else was there (vss. 22-29). But Proverbs 8 also tells us that the wisdom that God created was “always at God’s side, filled with delight day after day, rejoicing (literally, “playing”) in his presence” (v. 30, my translation). If wisdom was the first thing God created, and if it is continually playful, it is no great interpretive leap to say that the Creator himself is playful.
Wisdom’s play, according to Proverbs 8:31, is also directed to humankind. Wisdom was not only playing in God’s presence. Wisdom was also “rejoicing” (“playing”) in his inhabited world and delighting in humankind” (my translation). The same Hebrew word for “rejoicing” or “playing” is used for what wisdom does in relation to God and in relation to humanity.
So, my prayer for myself and you is this: May you and I have an orderly and spontaneous day, week, and life!
Amen!
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