Category Archives: Spiritual
Ignorance Is Curable. Stupidity Isn’t.
Ignorance is curable, stupidity isn’t.
Stupidity is thinking we personally know the whole truth, nothing but the truth, thus making us equal to God.
I remember reading a book by Henri Nouwen almost half of a century ago. It was Reaching Out. Nouwen writes about the Three Movements of the Spiritual Life: Journey Inward, Journey Outword, and Journey Together. The first part resonated joyfully for me, the second part I felt tentative about, but open to it’s possible truth, the third part threatened some of my most cherished beliefs and I rejected it immediately. Over the years I reread the book. The second time, I could joyously affirm the truths of both part one and part two. The third part still made me uneasy and didn’t find a home in my picture of reality. But since I had grown in my understanding of the other parts, I put it into my “possible” file. Eventually, I reread it and found that I had stretched my view of the world enough to encompass those truths.
Stupidity is when we don’t admit that the truths that make up our view of the world will always need stretching.
Woo Hoo! Still THE MAN.
Whoo Hoo! Still THE MAN
Through Memories
I look at you through memories
of running in the rain,
of funny children’s stories
and haunted Halloweens.
Of how you learned to hold me
and simply let me cry,
listening to my many fears
to heal me of my fright.
Of you overcoming phobias,
so I wouldn’t be alone
while camping in the woods
or giving talks on Type.
Of nightmare trips in broken cars
and cabins full of scouts,
houses filled with strangers
and jeep rides in the night.
Letters shared in parking lots
and rooms full of golden flowers,
the kaleidoscope of memories
that fill my heart with love.
Fifty-four years.
God’s Spiritually Challenged
I write often about Christianity being a journey, a process of growing wiser and more loving. Lest, I sound like I think I’ve mastered this, I need to share one of my more recent challenges in my seventies.
Until my sixties, I was a compulsive people pleaser, a gracious Southern phoney, who almost never confronted anyone. At some point, in my last few years, for better or worse, I have become free to be real. Maybe it’s a stage of life or a change in hormones. Whatever it is, I have become much less tolerant of rude and dangerous drivers.
Recently, in a burst of anger, I tried to make an obscene gesture at a particularly obnoxious driver. Unfortunately, due to lack of experience and an increasingly erratic short term memory, I gave him a “thumbs up” instead.
Frustrated by this, I decided that the next time I would yell obscenities out my car window.
But the following Sunday, the theme of the sermon was, If we are not growing kinder as we age, something is wrong with our Christianity.
Ouch!
I really struggled with this and when the next road test came, I did manage to compromise. I yelled, “Jesus loves you, but everyone else thinks you’re an idiot.”
Some of us grow more slowly than others. Feel free to pray for me. I may be old, but God isn’t finished with me yet.
Death and Resurrection
Dying is messy. Most people don’t manage to die with their hair styled or tidily in their best suit and tie. Looking good isn’t what death is about.
Dying is often painful, both emotionally and physically. Even those, who find peace from acceptance or joy from a sense of God’s loving presence, struggle before getting to that point. Dying isn’t comfortable.
Dying is not a social event. It sometimes brings feelings of rejection, because some of our family and friends aren’t ready to face the reality of death, so they may get very busy elsewhere.
Dying is scary and lonely. Only a few have lived to tell about it. And though our loved ones may hold our hand, we know we must go alone.
Dying is an experience of total helplessness. No matter how rich or competent or powerful we are in life, dying wipes out the last illusion that we are in control.
Dying is the final cross. Not one we carry, but one we hang on, suspended between heaven and earth wondering if we’ve been abandoned on both sides.
Yet dying is the doorway to life. It’s a very narrow gate and it’s the only gate out.
The true Christian life (not the insurance game or the private club versions) is a series of deaths and resurrections that prepare us for that final one.
Deaths and resurrections such as:
Letting go of our need to look good by hiding behind masks: becoming free to be our truest and fullest self.
Letting go of our illusion of security from belonging to the right group: finding brothers and sisters where we never thought to look.
Letting go of our anesthetic of choice; work, competition, television, twitter, legalism, consumerism, food, sex, alcohol: by allowing ourselves to feel deeply the fears and sorrows of our lives, becoming capable of joy and love.
Letting go of our dependency on others: parents, spouses, friends, or anyone else for validation; recognizing the Spirit of God within our own hearts.
Letting go of needing talents, ministries, and achievements to feel valuable: finding inner peace from the unconditional love of God expressed in Jesus.
Letting go of everything as Jesus did:
“Very truly I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain, but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also.” John 12:24-26
So, this is where it both ends and begins for us, on the cross with Jesus, being taken by Him through the doorway of death to eternal life.
Laughter: Carbonated Grace 