The Significance of God's Tattoo

When you see the word "tenderness" what do you think of?  Tattoos, right?  Those two words usually go together, don't they? Well, I can't say I typically think of them in the same sentence.  Which probably shows my inadequate understanding about body art as being portrayed by the stereotypical picture of the Hells Angel Harley-storming brute whose tattoos make him look like a modern day pirate with some dark form of the skull and crossbones etched into his bulging biceps.  Not my best mental depiction of tenderness.

And yet ... I have seen some beautiful skin art.  I love asking a tattoo-wearing person if there's a story behind their picture.  There almost always is--a commemoration of someone or something meaningful and significant to them, or a symbol of their sense of purpose in life, or simply a depiction of something they like.  I've heard some evocative and very moving stories from these wearers about how the pictures move them deeply and inspire them regularly.

Which at times tends to end up reminding me of how "tattoos" and "tenderness" are related, even in the divine realm.  Notice this picture:

¹⁴ But you have said, “The LORD has forsaken me, And my Lord has forgotten me.” ¹⁵ But I the LORD say, “Can a woman forget her nursing child, And not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, Yet I will not forget you. ¹⁶ See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; You are continually before Me."  (Isaiah 49)

God is pictured feeling tender love and compassion for her children.  In fact, the word compassion is from the word tenderness.  It literally means "cherishing the fetus in her womb."

Think of how much care a mother gives to the baby she carries inside her.  Once she learns she's pregnant, she immediately makes some lifestyle changes to make sure the child grows in healthy ways--she stops drinking alcohol, eats more fruits and vegetables, stops smoking, tries to reduce unnecessary stress, and the list goes on.  She does all this because she knows that even before the baby is born that child is nursing from her and receiving nourishment on every level.  So she even sings to her baby and speaks words of love and affirmation.

And then once the child is born, tenderness continues.  The same word "compassion" in this text also literally means "to fondle."  I well remember wonderful moments of tenderness when my kids were babies.  One of my favorites was me leaning back on the couch, holding my baby on my chest, and feeling completely relaxed and at peace with that precious bundle of life wrapped in my arms.  It was such a tender moment for me and a place of absolute safety and love for my child.  That fondling expressed a powerful covenant and commitment of value I placed on my baby.

When the mother nurses her baby, her own body is changed and impacted from these acts of love and care--oxytocin is released which tends to increase the mother's sense of wellbeing and happiness.  Studies have shown that even feeding the baby with a bottle (like for fathers or a care-giver who can't breastfeed), if the baby is held with a spirit of tenderness and loving care, releases oxytocin into the system.

So think of all this tenderness, cherishing, compassion, fondling in loving care that the parent feels for her child.  Think of all of this in fact moving and transforming the parent at the same time it's providing increasing confidence and security for the baby.  This mutual, symbiotic relationship is a metaphor for the divine relationship with us.

And then the bible text reveals a stunning reality--to memorialize this tender relationship, God has tattooed our name onto Her hand.  "I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands; you are continually before me."

What art display has God drawn on Her hand to depict you me?  Is it a symbol of some kind?  A scene?  A word or few that describe my essence?  Maybe even a cross carved into Her hand with my name on it?  Kind of intriguing to imagine, isn't it.

Whatever the tattoo is, She looks at it often ("continually," says the text).  And every time She looks at the tattoo She's reminded of Her eternal love and tenderness for me.  That's why She has the tattoo.  She can never forget me.  Her divine essence moves and stirs with compassion every time She sees the tattoo and thinks of me.  She never forgets.  Like loving and nurturing parents, She loves me without conditions.  There's nothing I could ever do or not do to eradicate my identity as Her beloved child.  Once a child, always a child, period, forever!

Divine body art.  God's tattoo.  Infinite tenderness.

The french word for tenderness is poignant.  Used in conjunction with les bras ("the arms"), the related verb entendre means "to stretch out one's arms" in a gesture of welcoming love.

Picture it:  God stands with outstretched arms eager to embrace you, hold you, enfold you in Her arms; to cuddle You in safety, longing, and intense compassion.

So next time I hit a moment of discouragement, self doubt, insecurity, uncertainty, loneliness, or weakness, I'm going to try to remember:  my name, my picture, is tattooed on God's hand; at this very moment God is looking at it, thinking of me with absolute tenderness.  And She is holding out Her arms, inviting me into Her holy embrace, that ultimate, eternal place of safety and security where I remember who I am and who God is and how loved and valued I am to Her forever.

And She's got a tattoo to prove it!  I wonder what Her body art about you is like?

Attending to the Inner Critic

The Inner Critic We all have one.  It's that voice so often speaking inside our heads that makes judgements about us.  Sometimes it takes the tone and sound of one of our parents or another adult from our growing up years--they criticized us for not measuring up, for failing, communicating clearly that we didn't have it, we couldn't make it, we blew it and we'll blow it again.

Someone recently told me about his Inner Critic's primary message:  "You'll never make anything of yourself!  You'll never amount to anything!"  It always has the voice of his dad who has put him down his whole life and has never expressed any true belief in his abilities.  He's labeled his Inner Critic, "The Chairman of the Board."  This voice has always had the last word, the word of ultimate authority.  And it has prevented him from living his own life in freedom, with a sense of value, and possibility.

I definitely have an Inner Critic.  I got off the phone today after engaging in negotiation over a coaching contract with the CFO of an organization.  I felt really strong.  I was pleased with myself and the confidence with which I had presented a proposal.

And then suddenly my Inner Critic piped up and in no uncertain terms reminded me of a very small but silly comment I made in passing during the phone conversation.  As I listened, the "voice" started berating me and criticizing me.  I was tempted to believe it once again and discount the entire conversation along with my credibility.  I saw my Inner Critic looking at me holding up the big L on its forehead...Loser!  And the irony was, all evidence to the contrary.

Why Is the Inner Critic So Powerful?

Does that ever happen to you?  The Inner Critic is powerful.  Why?  Because we have given it power.  Because we've heard it for so long.  Because it speaks partial truth at times so that some of what it says is believable and we tend to lump all of what it says into that partially believable part.  And because whenever it speaks, it doesn't equivocate or articulate timidly.  It always speaks with authority and clarity.  Right?

The Essence of the Inner Critic's Message

Even Jesus battled this Inner Critic, this Shadow part that showed up in the form of the devil, the tempter.  The Bible elsewhere describes this Voice as "the accuser of the people."  Man, do we know this Inner Critic!

After Jesus was baptized in the Jordan River, he was led by the Spirit into the wilderness desert to be alone, to confront himself, his identity, his calling.  The voice of his heavenly father at his baptism was still ringing in his ears:  "You are my son, the one I love; I'm so proud and pleased with you."

Then the Critic showed up.  In essence It said, "So you think you're the Son of God, huh?  You think you're someone special?  NO way!  Not unless you can turn stones into bread.  You think you're someone special?  NO way!  Not unless you can jump off the pinnacle of the Temple and have angels break your fall.  NO way!  Not unless you acknowledge Me, honor me, listen to and believe everything I say.  You're no different than anyone else!  Good try!"

Notice the essence of this Critic's voice which echoes our Inner Critic all the time:  it's calling into question our identity, our sense of value and worth, our belief in ourselves and what God is calling us to be and do. It accuses us of being Nobodies.  It's connecting performance with success and identity.  So if we blow it or act out or fail at times, the Chairman of our Board bellows, "See, you're nothing.  I told you!  You'll never amount to anything!"

Our Inner Critic always connects performance with value.  So we end up only giving ourselves permission to feel good about ourselves when we perform well or are doing something "valuable" and "successful" (and usually we've bought into the ego-culture's definitions of those two terms).

I'm wrestling with this temptation from my Inner Critic a lot these days.  I'm in the middle of a big transition professionally, from spending most of my time pastoring a spiritual community to spending more time being a public speaker and spiritual teacher.  Others have taken leadership with the spiritual community and my wife and I are working hard developing strategic plans to begin speaking and teaching in the City and beyond.  So right now, one thing has ended but the new thing has yet to begin.  I'm in the "no man's land" of transition's middle zone.  And I struggle with a loss of identity and the corresponding sense of current "uselessness."

My Inner Critic isn't whispering It's critique of me, It's bellowing it.  Maybe I won't be able to pull off this transition to another manifestation of my Calling.  Maybe we'll try and it won't work.  What if no one shows up to the public events we plan?  What if no one cares about what we have to say?  What if I've lost whatever mojo I once had?  What if we can't earn enough income to make it?  What if?  What if?  "See, you're really amounting to nothing after all.  You're not good enough.  You won't make it.  You're not who you think you are, you're a nobody."

So how do you attend to the Inner Critic in a way that doesn't cripple you?  Here are several important strategies I've learned.

Strategies to Effectively Attending to Your Inner Critic

Honor the Voice--learn Its wisdom.  This is a counter-intuitive step.  The truth is, our Inner Critic speaks so loudly because It's trying to tell us something.  Believe it or not, it does have some wisdom for us.  Unfortunately, It often couches Its words in negative value statements.  But beneath those devaluing observations, It does have a role.  That role might be different for all of us.  It might be trying to keep us from doing something we'd regret later, like making a fool of ourselves, or biting off something we're not ready to handle, or doing something that might not be safe.  The Inner Critic speaks warnings ultimately to protect us, like oftentimes our parents tried to do. It wants to make sure we're considering all the angles before jumping into something.

I've learned that this process is not about silencing the voice as much as properly attending to it.

If we are willing to honor that Voice by assuring the Inner Critic that we will take Its warning into consideration and will not purposely try to do something dangerous or foolish, that we'll be strategic and wise in what we do, the Voice actually tends to quiet.  It wants to be heard and respected.  And we can listen to what we need to hear in its statements and honor those parts.  And then simply not embrace or accept the negative value judgments.

Say to It, "What is the wisdom you have for me?  What are the cautions I need to pay attention to?  How can I assure you I won't be foolish and unwise here?"  Honor and respect the voice of wisdom in It and then let go of the value judgments about identity and worth.  You're not a Loser no matter what you do or what happens.

Honor THE Voice--don't play the identity game.  Though my client has named his Inner Critic "Chairman of the Board," the truth is, there's only one Voice that we should give that title to.  Jesus got it right.  His first response to the Tempter and Accuser was, "Man should not live by bread alone but by every word that comes out of the mouth of God."

The Accuser had just challenged Jesus to prove his divine sonship by turning the desert stones into bread.  Jesus refused to play that identity game.  "I don't need to prove anything about who I am.  I don't perform my way into an identity.  I accept my identity as a state of being given to me as a gift the moment I was born.   I'm choosing to listen to the words of The Chairman of the Board, the One who just reminded me at my baptism who I am by telling me, 'You are my son, the one I love; I'm so pleased with and proud of you.'  That Voice is the one that counts to me when it comes to my identity, value, and ultimate worth!"

The next time your Inner Critic bellows that you're a failure, a loser, and that you need to do much better at performing and proving yourself otherwise you don't count, don't buy it.  Remind yourself of the Highest Voice who assures you that you're a child of God with ultimate and eternal value no matter what!  Your identity is secure, period.

Can we learn from our mistakes and foibles and even failures?  Of course.  We should.  The Inner Critic has wisdom for us to learn from if we allow ourselves to listen.  And sometimes we have to work hard to catch what It's saying "in-between the lines" of Its judgments and criticisms.

Choose to play the right game.  When my Inner Critic, after my phone call, reminded me of my silly statement, I stopped for a moment, replayed that part, and ended up saying, "Good point.  I was trying to be funny and light when I made that silly comment but I didn't need to.  I could have left that out.  It didn't add any value to the conversation and my point.  Next time, I'll remember and not feel the need to throw something like that in."

But then I chose to refuse the Voice's judgement label of Loser on me and went about my work, celebrating how strong I was on the call and my hope for a profitable outcome.  "I am a divine son who is called by God and loved by God and infused with eternal value and worth, no matter what happens.  Thank you for that secure and solid identity!  Now I'll keep moving forward, being as wise and strategic as I can, and knowing I'm the Man all along the way!" :)

Don't get caught up in your Inner Critic's identity game.  Only allow the true Chairman of the Board to settle that issue for you.

In Jesus' story, once the Critic-Accuser-Tempter crossed this line by demanding worship (an act of bowing to something as ultimate authority) , Jesus did a major push back and rebuked It by saying, "Get behind me!  Be gone!"  He refused to play the identity game.  He refused to give the highest status to It.  Only God is the Chairman of the Board who always pronounces value and worth and acknowledges inherent goodness.

So honor the wisdom of the Inner Critic and learn what you need to learn from It.  But don't mix Its messages up with your identity.  Don't get sucked into that game.  When it comes to identity, choose to play the right game:  listen to and honor the Voice of God who has the most authoritative handle on your identity as a loved and pleasing child of God, forever and period!  Beyond that it's all logistics and strategy.

Why Take the Time For Self Development

46th Session This week I had the 46th session with a coaching client.  We started our journey together a year ago.  This is the longest I've coached a client - 46 sessions!  What has impressed me with this client's experience has been that it's only been in the last month that more visible break-throughs have been taking place.  I have seen profound transformation in his way of thinking about himself and life and how he's showing up in the world.  He has much more clarity as well as fulfillment these days.

My typical coaching approach has involved working with clients sometimes for a month, most often for 3 months, sometimes for 6 months (all involving weekly sessions).  I've helped people through life transitions, establishing personal dreams, developing strategic plans for business or personal issues, helping them achieve clarity about their strengths and life purpose, defining a new personal faith.  All very helpful journeys, according to their personal testimonies.

But in this case, we've continued for 46 sessions - mostly at his request - and certainly I've agreed with the value.  But significant change has happened lately that has caused me to realize some very significant realities about life growth as it relates to this lengthier journey.  Thought I'd share three of them with you in this week's blog post.

One, personal growth takes time. 

Regardless of your view of God and how God operates in the messy human process of growth, God rarely seems to simply "snap his finger" to transform people.  Pray as hard as you might, growth isn't based upon a magical formula that occurs in the "twinkling of an eye."  Genuine change takes time - it doesn't matter what the personal or relational issue, meaningful transformation simply takes time.

There's a reason why so many spiritual wisdom traditions call spirituality a "journey."  Personal growth is a process, a path.  Even Jesus called himself "the way."  Notice he didn't say "the point" or "the moment."  He's the way.  He's describing the process of spiritual growth - becoming a follower on a path which involves a journey that takes place over time, in fact over one's entire lifetime.  It's as though he's saying, "Follow me.  Watch me.  Consider me, what I do and how I do it.  Walk with me and observe, reflect upon, question, weigh, and wrestle with it all.  Practice what you observe with me.  Learn how to lean into it.  Be a follower on the journey."  Those kinds of experiences don't happen over night.  There's no simple formula.  Personal growth takes time.

Two, personal growth involves developing new ways of thinking.

No wonder it takes time.  Our thoughts create our realities.  In fact, some experts say there is no difference between cause and effect - our thoughts produce our experiences (and vice versa) simultaneously.  What we think, is.  So if we want to change our experiences, we have to change our thoughts.  Our thoughts are the fabric of all the stories we tell ourselves and others about ourselves, about others, about all of life, even about God.  Our stories (what we think and say about all of this) are the sum total of the thoughts we string together to describe what we think we're seeing and observing.  Our thoughts create the lens through which we see life. So if something isn't working well or serving us well in our lives, we have to evaluate carefully and honestly our lens (what thoughts we're stringing together to describe what we think is reality).

And if that lens is hazy or dirty or smudged or cracked, that impacts what we see.  This is why spiritual traditions describe the journey of spirituality as the process of cleaning the lens or even changing the lens through which we look.

St. Paul described this process:  ^"11 When I was a child, I spoke and thought and reasoned as a child. But when I grew up, I put away childish things. ¹² Now we see things imperfectly as in a cloudy mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity.  All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely."  (1 Corinthians 13)

He likens seeing through a cloudy lens as being a child.  When we're kids, our ability to see and understand the realities of life are limited.  Kids have nightmares or bad dreams about things that aren't real.  And many of us adults still have that limitation. :)

I remember having nightmares as a kid about gorillas.  I would wake up scared to death that the gorilla was in my room ready to eat me up.  My mom says she would often awaken in the middle of the night feeling this "presence" beside the bed and when she opened her eyes she would see me standing there (still asleep) but white as a ghost.  Rather unnerving for a parent (not to mention this little child).  A child's ability to distinguish between reality and fantasy is not well developed.  Kids are seeing imperfectly through "a cloudy mirror," as St. Paul put it.

As I've grown up, I don't have nightmares about gorillas anymore (thank goodness!).  But I do have more sophisticated fears that can equally incapacitate me at times and which sometimes prove to be equally fantastical (not based on reality, not true).  My gorillas have turned into fears about my worthiness, my ability to succeed, whether people will accept me or admire me, etc., etc.  I've at times gone into situations with other people completely sure that they would judge me or criticize me because of my past, only to end up experiencing just the opposite from them.  I almost allowed my "seeing through the cloudy mirror" to keep me from showing up in that group which would have caused me to miss out on a wonderful experience.

Kids don't understand the nuances in human relationships - life tends to be more black and white.  Maturation, human development and growth, is about learning the process of seeing more clearly, and sometimes of even having to change the lens because the lens is simply not true.

Notice that St. Paul describes his current knowing as "impartial and incomplete."  But he looks to that time when he will know everything "completely" (fully, accurately, wisely, without limitations that are self-imposed or otherwise), which he describes as the way God sees us.  The point he's making is that that path between those two times (from unknowing to knowing) isn't bridged instantaneously.  Personal growth takes time because it involves learning how to think more maturely and wisely, more divinely.  We have to grow up, to develop.  "By beholding, we become changed."  Are we beholding truth and reality or old "truth" and unreality?  Change the lens to behold clearly.

Three, personal growth necessitates personal patience and profound acceptance.  I'm getting better at giving myself some slack for the lack of perfection in my life.  That doesn't mean I'm choosing not to take self responsibility.  In fact, I'm taking more ownership for my life with all its foibles and dirty lens and my determined responsibility to make necessary changes then ever before.  But I'm learning to give myself more patience and self-acceptance along the way.

One author I was reading this week said that the most important gift we can give ourselves and others is acceptance.  It's a counter-intuitive choice.  Contrary to popular opinion, accepting doesn't prohibit or stifle growth, it actually fosters it.  "Accepting people as they are has the miraculous affect of helping them improve" (Marianne Williamson, Return To Love, p. 162).  In fact, this kind of acceptance is the most divine act we can engage in.  That's what Paul was saying earlier - God knows us completely - and as the next verse says, God loves us just as completely.  "¹³ Three things will last forever—faith, hope, and love—and the greatest of these is love."  (1 Corinthians 13)

The power of divine grace is that God considers us perfectly acceptable every step along the way of our journey into greater wholeness and maturity and development (take a look at one of my favorite bible texts, Hebrews 10:14):  Perfectly acceptable to God while we're in the process of becoming more and more whole.

That attitude of profound acceptance toward us is what empowers us with the courage to continue the journey of growth, to keep learning and struggling and becoming, to changing the lens so that we see ourselves-others-and God more clearly and perfectly, to being courageous enough to let go of the old stories we almost immediately tell ourselves when something negative happens to us, to changing our "childish" thoughts into more mature and loving ones.   We end up showing up with way more love in all our relationships and life experiences.

Personal growth necessitates personal patience and profound acceptance.

My forty-six client sessions have been such an amazing learning experience for me.  My client is not at the same place where he was a year ago.  His old paralyzing stories - his cloudy mirror - are changing and being replaced with the truth about himself and the promise of his profound potential.  There is tremendous value in allowing someone else into your life for such a long, specifically directed period of time.  That's the power of having a coach or other trusted person to help guide the journey.

And the journey has helped to change me, too.  Forty-six sessions!

Three Lessons From Geese About Spiritual Sustainability and Endurance

INTRODUCTION Bar-headed geese are some of the most remarkable birds in nature.  It’s estimated that at least 50,000 of them winter in India.  And when summer nears, they undertake the two month 5000 mile migration back to their home in Central Asia.  What makes this trip remarkable is that the route they choose to take every year is the world’s steepest migratory flight—they fly over the highest mountain in the world, Mount Everest in the Himalayas.

Amazingly, this route is where the air is thinnest and oxygen level lowest.  What’s more, the thinner air means that less lift is generated when the birds flap their wings, thereby increasing the energy costs of flying by around 30 per cent.  And yet they still fly the same route over the highest place on earth.

Scientists now find that these geese do not make use of tailwinds or updrafts that could give them a boost up the mountain.  They choose instead to rely on several other remarkable resources:

(1) Muscle power—these geese have a denser network of capillaries that reach oxygen-carrying blood to the cells.  So their blood is capable of binding and transporting more oxygen to where it’s needed most, their wing muscles.

(2) Large lungs—they also have larger lungs for their size and breathe more heavily than other waterfowl. Unlike humans, bar-headed geese can breathe in and out very rapidly without getting dizzy or passing out.  By hyperventilating, they increase the net quantity of oxygen that they get into their blood and therefore into their muscles.

(3) Team work—geese are famous for utilizing in flight the V-formation which helps reduce individual energy consumption by up to 30%.  The whole flock gets over 70% better mileage than if each bird flew solo.  When the lead bird gets weary, it drops back and a new one takes the lead.  As the birds vigorously flap their wings, it creates lift for the bird behind.  These geese actually choose to fly over Mt. Everest at one time rather than breaking up the trip, typically a grueling eight hour marathon.  And in addition, if one of the geese gets too tired or gets injured or sick, two of the other geese shepherd the weaker one back down to the ground and stay with it until it either gets stronger or dies.  Then they rejoin the group or find another group to fly with to complete their migration.

(4) External conditions—many scientists had thought the geese were taking advantage of daytime winds that blow up and over mountaintops. But recent research showed the birds forgo the winds and choose to fly at night, when conditions tend to be relatively calmer.  They're potentially avoiding higher winds in the afternoon, which might make flights more uncomfortable or more risky.  The birds could potentially head east or west and fly around, rather than over, the mountain range, but this would add several days to their trip and would actually use up more energy.  So they go straight over the highest point on earth in an attempt to manage their energy as efficiently as possible.  It’s counter-intuitive.

So what can we learn from these geese about how to develop a strong, sustainable, enduring spirituality—the kind that can face great risks and obstacles and complete the journey well?  What does it take to enjoy spiritual sustainability?

THREE LESSONS FROM GEESE ABOUT DEVELOPING SPIRITUAL SUSTAINABILITY

Lesson One, Maximize your spiritual oxygen—breathe deeply.  Like the geese, we all have the inner capacities to develop spiritual sustainability—we have good muscles and good lungs.  But for those to be maximized, we have to breathe deeply to get the most amount of oxygen possible to our spiritual muscles.

These geese have the lung capacity to be able to hyperventilate when they need it for Mt. Everest.  When they’re at home, they certainly don’t spend all of their time hyperventilating.  But when they need it the most, facing their arduous migration, they’ve developed the capacity for it.

So how can you and I increase our lung capacity to breathe deeply and get life-giving oxygen to our spiritual muscles?  This is what spiritual practices are all about—engaging regularly in activities that involve spiritual breathing, breathing deeply of the divine Spirit, accessing the power that is greater than ourselves—Prayer, meditation, scripture/inspirational reading, journaling [for example, the direct method of communication with your Trusted Source—based upon Carl Jung’s model of active imagination], spiritual conversations, sacred rituals, sacred objects, building altars of remembrances, nature immersion.  This is about engaging in ways to “wake up” to God’s presence in you and all around you, ways to “pay attention” to That which is greater than your self, ways to “breathe in” the divine spirit.

PERSONAL APPLICATION:  What do you currently do spiritually to breathe deeply?  What sacred rituals do you intentionally engage in?  What kind of plan do you have for regular spiritual breathing?

Lesson Two, Exercise your spiritual muscles—act on faith.  I love this definition of faith:  “Faith is daring the soul to go beyond what the eyes can see.”  William Newton Clark

Spiritual teachers remind us that faith is the language of the soul.  And the soul is what both holds our life purpose and catapults us towards it.  Our egos care most about happiness, security, safety, success, status.  The soul cares about aliveness, courage, purpose, effectiveness, faith.  And faith is the language of the soul.

So, when you act on faith, when you intentionally choose to take a step forward in your spiritual quest, when you say “yes” to faith, your spiritual muscles strengthen, and new resources become available.

That’s why, in the story of the Hebrews needing to cross the flooded Jordan River in order to get over to the Promised Land, God gave instructions for the priests carrying the ark of the covenant to lead the way into the river.  And it wasn’t until they stepped into the river that the waters parted all the way across.  Those first steps were steps of faith—choices to follow God’s instructions even when their eyes couldn’t see the way.

Indiana Jones, in the movie “Temple of Doom,” had to step out in faith, putting his foot out into the nothingness, the chasm of the abyss, in order for the bridge to appear so they could cross it to the other side where the coveted Holy Grail was hidden.

The way many people live is by playing it safe, or shrinking from difficulty, or refusing to act unless all the ducks are lined up in a row or the future can be clearly seen.  It’s true, we need to be smart when we’re faced with choices.  But sometimes, the counter-intuitive smart choice is to act even when you can’t see the end.  Our paralysis of fear atrophies our spiritual muscles.  What you don’t use gets lost.  Muscles get flabby and lose their resilience and strength.

We can breathe deeply all we want, we can learn to hyperventilate and get rich oxygen to our muscles effectively all we want.  But if we never use those oxygenated muscles, none of that makes a difference.

When you act in faith, taking a step forward, new resources become available.  And that courageous act strengthens the spiritual muscles, empowering you to take the next step.  Faith is acting on the belief that you have what you need, like the geese, the necessary equipment and inner capacity, to fly over the Mt. Everests of life.  So use it!

I can honestly tell you that when I look back on the crises I’ve gone through and see where I am today, I am in awe of the inner resources I was able to call out of myself that I didn’t even know I had.  That awareness has helped me to learn not to be afraid of or to avoid the Mt. Everests because it’s only in flying over them that we can see what our spiritual muscles are truly capable of.

PERSONAL APPLICATION:  So what steps of faith are you being called to take these days?  How is your soul being dared to go beyond what your eyes can see?  What is one step forward you can take right now to exercise your spiritual muscles?

Lesson Three, Leverage the support of others—ask for help.  The genius of the geese’s V-formation flying style is the way it leverages the power of team effort.  Getting over Mt. Everest is almost impossible solo.  Drafting with others maximizes energy and productivity.

Richard Bolles is the author of history’s best-selling book about job hunting and career change, What Color Is Your Parachute.  He was interviewed once about the subject of being self-employed.  He said that self employed people can hire out just about any skill, even, to some degree, discipline; you can get someone to call you every week to help keep you on track.  But, he said, the only trait you cannot hire out and without which you’ll “die on the vine” is the willingness to ask for help.

Trying to go it alone in life is, as one author described it, like “stringing beads without tying a knot at the end.”  Without having the help of other people to secure the end, we simply keep slipping away.

Spiritual sustainability, the power to endure in the long run, requires asking for the support of others—inviting trusted people into our lives for accountability, vision, wisdom, encouragement, strength.  We have to be willing to ask for what we need and want.

I remember when I first moved here to San Francisco all by myself—after having gone through a huge personal crisis that shattered my self confidence and sent me into what I was tempted to see as a fatal tailspin—I called up three guys who had been my friends for years—they all lived in different parts of the country—and I asked each of them if they would “fly the V-formation” with me for a long while—“Would you be willing to call me every week and talk with me, encourage me, support me, and let me draft you.”  That was one of the most spiritually strategic steps of faith I could have taken during that Mt. Everest time for me.  I had to summon enough courage and initiative to ask for help.

Percy Ross authors a column called “Thanks A Million” that is syndicated in more than seven hundred newspapers around the country.  This Minneapolis millionaire is trying to dispose of the fortune it took him nearly 60 years to accumulate by working to redistribute his wealth among people who write to him with their stories of need and sometimes greed.  He gets 2000 letters a day.  Those that touch him he responds to with a check.

In an interview, he talked about the importance of asking.  He said, “Asking is in my opinion the world’s most powerful—and neglected—secret to success.  I certainly wouldn’t be where I am today if I hadn’t convinced many, many people to help me along the way.  The world is full of genies waiting to grant our wishes.  There are plenty of people who will gladly give you a hand.”

Knowing what you want is one thing—a very important thing, to be sure.  But that doesn’t really matter in the end unless you learn to ask for it.  As Richard Bolles said, the willingness to ask for help is a nonnegotiable component of successful living.  Spiritual sustainability and strength require us involving others in our lives in crucial, significant ways.  There’s no such thing as a spiritual lone ranger.  The mighty Lone Ranger had Tonto.  Even Jesus the Son of God had Peter, James & John (and nine others to follow him around).

PERSONAL APPLICATION:  Whom do you have in your life to draft with, to fly in V-formation with?  Who do you need to ask?  What do you want for your life and are you asking clearly and confidently for it, asking for help?

SUMMARY

So what does it take to develop spiritual sustainability, a spirituality that endures the long run with strength and vitality?  What lessons can we learn from the barheaded geese?  First, Maximize your spiritual oxygen—breathe deeply.  Second, Exercise your spiritual muscles—act on faith.  And third, Leverage the support of others—ask for help.

CONCLUSION

One of the Old Testament stories that provides a sort of comic relief to the serious messages of the prophets and yet offers a deeply encouraging view of the divine reality swirling around in the midst of our stories—one of the ultimate resources for spiritual endurance--is the legend of Jonah.

God calls him to go to the fierce people of Ninevah—the most feared enemies of his Jewish people—and preach a message of impending divine judgment.  Now preaching judgment to anyone is uncomfortable.  But to the Ninevahites?  Considering that these fierce warriors skinned their enemies alive, I can understand Jonah’s immediate hesitancy to accept this calling.  He doesn’t just say No to God, he jumps on a ship that is sailing in the opposite direction from Ninevah to try to outrun both God and his mission.

No one ever promised there would be no risk in following our spiritual destiny.  In fact, truth is, there is always fear involved in flying over Mt. Everest.  Our temptation is to capitulate and cave in to the paralysis of status quo.

On the way to far away, Jonah falls asleep in the bowels of the boat.  A fierce storm comes up.  The captain finds Jonah and wakes him up.  “Better come on deck with the rest of us—we’re trying to decide our fate.”  The sailors cast lots to see who among them is bringing on this wrath of the gods.  That’s when Jonah speaks up with his story of fear and failure, saying, “I’m the one at fault here.  Throw me over board and that’ll solve your storm problem.”

He’s thinking that he’s not even safe from God and his calling on a ship going in the opposite direction from Ninevah.  If he’s thrown overboard, at least he’ll drown and never have to worry again about facing God or the Ninevahites.

But when he’s sinking to the depths of sea, God sends a huge fish to swallow him to keep him alive and save him for his mission.  “Thanks, God!”  In the belly of the fish, though, Jonah recognizes what God is calling him to do, accepts God’s promise to empower him with courage and strength, and repents of his cowardice and fear.  “If this cup cannot pass from me, Your will not mine be done,” he utters.

After three days and three nights, the fish spits him out onto the beach nearest Ninevah, wouldn’t you know it.  And he marches into the city and ends up causing a massive revival among those enemy people who end up treating him like a hero who has saved their lives from judgment.

Spiritual sustainability, spiritual strength and endurance, take place not just from us breathing deeply, acting in faith or even in fear, and asking for help from others—but also from a Divine Presence that swirls and blows and moves in the midst of our stories, a Divine Presence that believes in our destiny even more than we do, who believes in us even when we’ve given up.  That Sacred Spirit breathes into our lives hope and courage, engaging other players on our behalf, turning failure into fertilizer, redeeming our cowardice for courage, staying with us until we fulfill our holy destiny.  It’s the Wind beneath our wings, the Oxygen streaming into our muscles, that empowers us over Mt. Everest safely to our promised land.

Now that’s a Resource to keep holding on to!

Your Swan Song and The Antidote to Busyness

[If you like these posts, feel free to share them with others - click on the share button to the right.  If you would like to receive each new blog post as an automatic email, please subscribe at the right.] Do you ever struggle with the challenge of trying to balance all the different commitments in your life like work, family, personal development, spirituality?  You perhaps want to pay equal attention to every area but then feel frustrated and sometimes guilty that you simply don't have the time or energy to do it all good enough?

In an article in the latest Inc. magazine, Nancy Rosenzweig, a serial entrepreneur and CEO and the mother of two small children shared a profound insight.  That fact that she also devotes significant time to volunteer work has sometimes caused tension at home.  In responding to criticism about the potential of neglecting the most important things in her life by simply being too busy, she paraphrased the poet David Whyte and said, "The antidote to buyness is not rest but rather 'wholeheartedness.'" She says that her community commitments, for example, don't deplete her - they energize her.  "Nurturing ourselves by doing things we're passionate about in turn allows us to 'wholeheartedly' nurture others - including our families and our companies."

It does raise the significant spiritual question, How are you replenishing your body, mind, heart, and spirit?  Is there anything you're involved in that you're engaging in  "wholeheartedly?"  Are you paying attention to what really energizes you, to what taps into your deep passion?  Or are you simply going through all the right motions in all the areas of your life, giving whatever you have to give to all of them, but your heart and soul are not being utilized or plumbed or stimulated?  You're working really hard (lots of activity) but you still don't feel like you're getting anywhere?  You're dissatisfied deep inside?  Are you simply busy, working diligently and with great effort, trying to be successful in everything, but experiencing a slow burn leading to a slow death inside?  You're losing track of who you really are?

David Whyte, in an excerpt from "Crossing the Unknown Sea," describes this reality with the words, "Your exhaustion is a form of inner fermentation. You are beginning, ever so slowly to rot on the vine."

What a tragic picture.  The grape is designed to grow on the vine, to mature to the point of being able to be harvested and ultimately turned into something that brings great joy and satisfaction to others.  But if it is left too long on the vine, it experiences a slow rotting from the inside out.  And ends up being discarded.

The word courage in English comes from the old French word cuer, heart.  You must do something heartfelt, reminds David Whyte, and you must do it soon.  Which begs the question, what are you doing in your life that is truly heartfelt?  What are you doing that speaks both to and from your deepest soul, expressing your inner longings and desires and God-given passion?  To do that takes courage - a movement in the heart to bold action and risk.  That's why so few people truly possess courage.  It's sometimes easier to simply maintain the status quo and not rock the boat and try to please everyone.  But that kind of heartless living ultimately leads to a busyness that little by little destroys the soul and ends up useless to blessing others.  It's not easy living with courage.

This clumsy living that moves lumbering as if in ropes through what is not done, reminds us of the awkward way the swan walks.

And to die, which is the letting go of the ground we stand on and cling to every day, is like the swan, when he nervously lets himself down into the water, which receives him gaily and which flows joyfully under and after him, wave after wave, while the swan, unmoving and marvelously calm, is pleased to be carried, each moment more fully grown, more like a king, further and further on. (Rainer Maria Wilke, "The Swan")

In commenting on this poem, applying it to a friend who comes to see him, Whyte says, "You are like Rilke's Swan in his awkward waddling across the ground; the swan doesn't cure his awkwardness by beating himself on the back, by moving faster, or by trying to organize himself better. He does it by moving toward the elemental water where he belongs. It is the simple contact with the water that gives him grace and presence. You only have to touch the elemental waters in your own life, and it will transform everything. But you have to let yourself down into those waters from the ground on which you stand, and that can be hard. Particularly if you think you might drown."

No wonder the word courage means "heart."  Much of what we do in life (and God knows we are all extremely busy doing much) has nothing or little to do with our true powers, our truest sense of self, our God-given purpose to which we feel empowered to devote our whole heart.  We often relegate those issues to impracticality ("that's just not the way life is; we can't afford that luxury!").  We judge people who try to live their heartfelt passions as neglecting real life, shirking responsibilities, trying to live in a fantasy world, or having a midlife crisis.  So we end up going through life like a swan that refuses to enter the water and simply waddles around on dry ground - awkward, expending unnecessary effort, and worst of all, not living out its true purpose.

But when the swan chooses to step into the water the whole picture changes.  We use the swan as one of the ultimate symbols of gracefulness, coining the phrase, "as graceful as a swan."  It's a picture of inspiring beauty when a swan behaves like a swan.

What are you and I robbing the world of when we don't have the courage to live the way we were designed by God to live - a life of wholehearted purpose?  What are we robbing ourselves of?    We all need something to which we can give our full powers.  And only we individually know what that is.  Our heart, our deepest soul will tell us if we stop long enough to listen to the swan song.

Gran Torino and the Process of Spiritual Alignment

[If you enjoy this blog, please SHARE it with your friends and others who might be interested.  You can click in the column to the right and choose how you want to share this.] According to every spiritual tradition, we as humans, human nature, are divided – we are divided against ourselves (our truest Self), and we are divided against the Divine.  This lack of unity is in fact more characteristic of our “normal” reality than our Essential unity.

Understanding this division in us is crucial to recovering our Essential Self and becoming the people we were made by God to be, where we experience the highest level of meaning, purpose, and fulfillment.  The process of spirituality is about recovering and reclaiming our true Self and re-connecting with God.

According to the experts, we all are seeking specific needs to be met (based upon our upbringing and subsequent woundings).  And there are primary underlying feelings associated with each of those needs.  This primary need with its underlying feeling is what tends to drive us and motivate us – it describes how our ego tends to manifest itself when it doesn’t get its need met.  And therefore knowing this helps to give understanding about what we’re battling against and what we need to deal with in order to learn how to live out of our true Self.

OUR CHIEF EGO IMBALANCES AND DEFENSES

Let's look a bit more closely at this triangle of circles so we understand what it's describing.  There are three basic needs that all of us tend to gravitate toward and seek more of:  autonomy (the need to protect our "personal space," to be given our freedom, and maintain a felt sense of self), attention (the need to be validated in meaningful ways, to feel valued, to maintain a personal identity), and security (the need to find a sense of inner guidance and support, to be able to know the future clearly enough to survive and be cared for).  Each circle then reveals the default response or defense mechanism that kicks in when that specific need isn't met adequately:  no autonomy ... anger and aggression manifest either toward self or others; no attention ... feelings of being unvaluable, shame, a sense of being defective are manifested; and no security ... feelings of insecurity and fear emerge.

According to experts, we all experience all of these at various times, in various ways, and with varying intensities.  But we tend to have a primary default - our most common, easy-to-go-to, natural defense mechanism when our primary need isn't met.  These responses are the "artificial fillers" of our personality - imitations - ways we try to get our needs met that are not flowing from our Essential Self but rather from our wounded self.  So rather than helping us, they actually hinder us from receiving what we really want and need.  This causes the lack of internal and external unity all spiritual traditions describe human nature experiencing.  So every tradition has developed various spiritual practices that help a person come to greater alignment and congruence with their True Self - tools to practice, disciplines to engage in that facilitate spiritual development toward becoming the people God designed for us to be.  Spirituality, then, is the intentional process of becoming who you truly are (your Essential Self) rather than the imitation.    Spirituality is about your true Self connecting with God and reaching your ultimate potential as a child of God.

APPLICATION:  Circle the word in any of the three circles which you feel most protective of in your life right now, or most defensive of – your gut reaction.  Which word describes what drives you the most – what you’re truly seeking and feeling as you go through life’s experiences these days.

A Contemporary Story

Let's notice how these dynamics are played out and experienced in the story Gran Torino which came out in 2008.  The movie Gran Torino, starring Clint Eastwood, describes the weather-beaten yet poignant story of Walt Kowalski, an aging retired auto worker at Ford Motor Company in the now industrial graveyard of Detroit.  In the beginning, the film has the feel of a requiem. Melancholy is etched in every long shot of Detroit’s decimated, emptied streets and in the faces of those who remain to still walk in them.

Sort of like Walt’s life.  A veteran of the Korea War of the 1950s, Walt has been watching his “world” drastically change through the years into something he hardly recognizes much less feels a kinship with.  Everything to him is falling apart all around – the neighborhood has been taken over by “aliens,” foreigners – “Chinks-Gooks-Swamp Rats” he shamelessly calls all of them, no matter what country they’re from in Asia.  In reality, his neighbors are Hmong, the hill tribe people in Laos who allied with the US troops during the Vietnam war and then had to flee when the North Vietnamese took over.  Many of them fled to the US and settled in communities like Walt’s.  But to him, they’re still the “enemy” who don’t belong here!

He has just buried his wife and he’s basically estranged from his two sons and their families who have come to “put up” with a father and grandfather who seems crude, gruff, and uncaring.  So he pretty much lives his life alone with his dog Daisy.

And alone with the central metaphor of Walt’s life, his cherished pride – a pristine 1972 Ford Gran Torino.  He has invested all of his desires in this car – it represents to him the best days – the past – when life was more predictable, more secure, more unified, more white, success was everywhere, everyone had a chance to make it if you just worked hard enough.  The glory days.  People were patriotic then!  Like he has hanging on his porch, everyone flew the Stars and Stripes to show their pride in life and country.  So he pours himself into keeping his Gran Torino in spotless, perfect condition.  It’s his refuge from the painful, disorienting reality of this new world.  And it’s his artificial filler, his imitation self.

Interestingly enough, the writers of this movie have portrayed Walt as the Everyman who represents all of us in some ways.  His ego defenses are being threatened – he’s desperately seeking SECURITY (the safe and predictable and comfortable ways of the past).  But the changes in his personal life (losing his wife, estranged from his kids, and isolated from his Ford company past) and the radical changes in his environment (the gangs terrorizing the neighborhoods, the foreigners with their strange and distasteful customs who have moved in next door and up and down HIS street) have all threatened this security.  So he’s reacting in FEAR – inside he’s not sure how to really cope with FEAR – so he defaults to what he knows best:  prejudice, resentment, portraying a gruff, swearing, beer-guzzling, smoking hardass to everyone (including his family).

He’s also desperately seeking AUTONOMY – just leave me alone and let me live my own life!  Don’t try to tell me what to do or manipulate me or try to control my future (if you’re my kids and grandkids)!  Don’t encroach on my space!  Get out of my yard and my life!!  So he threatens his neighbors away from his yard no matter what their acts of attempted kindness and neighborliness; he threatens the gangs by pointing his Korean War U.S. Army-issued rifle in their faces; he growls and scowls at his kids and refuses to engage; he berates and castigates the local Catholic priest who keeps coming by to check on him because of a promise he made to Walt’s wife before she died.  His anger pushes him and empowers him to shove everyone away.

But in very poignant ways shown in the story, Walt also seeks ATTENTION – deep inside he doesn’t want to be alone, he simply doesn’t know how to go about connecting meaningfully.  He’s being driven by SHAME, which is ultimately unveiled in the movie when he finally reveals his painful war-time past.  The images of killing young enemy soldiers continues haunting him like ghosts from his past.  And as he gets older, he begins to realize that he’s failed as a parent, too – he’s treated his kids poorly and now he’s reaping the consequences of estrangement.  He’s a prisoner to his feelings of shame and doesn’t know how to get free.  So the only way he knows how to get ATTENTION is by being gruff and difficult and downright mean at times.

Walt Kowalski has built some strong, powerful defenses to his ego.  He’s really alone and in slavery to his misguided attempts to experience life – he’s caught up in the only way he knows how – and in a sense, he’s simply living out his life until he dies a very lonely and angry old man.  Every once in a while, he breaks into a coughing fit and begins to see blood coughed up.  After finally going to a clinic for blood tests, he informed he’s dying of lung cancer.  With no one really around him anymore because he’s driven them all way, he’s having to face an isolated and painful ending.

Is there any hope for a man like Walt Kowalski?  Is the Gran Torino all there is?  Here-in lies the power of this contemporary story, especially in light of this Season's theme of death and resurrection.

APPLICATION:  So go back to the word you circled in one of the three circles.  Spend a few moments reflecting on why you chose that word.  What examples in your life or in your experiences illustrate that word for you?  How is that word manifesting for you?  What’s the “Gran Torino” in your life that you’re using to protect your ego and that represents the “safe place” or default for you?

In my next blog post, we'll take a look at what it is that ultimately brings Walt Kowalski to a kind of personal transformation and how that applies to our lives, especially in our spiritual journey of alignment and development into who we were meant to be.

Developing A Faith That Works, 5: Faith, Vision, and How You See the Universe

[Thanks for SHARING this blog with people who might be interested!  Hit the button on the right to subscribe or to share the post] We've been talking in this series about the nature of faith and spirituality - how faith is something more than simply believing doctrinal statements about Reality, God, and life - it's about the heart, an experience that goes deeper than the mind and thoughts and impacts the deepest part of our selves and works itself out in acts of compassion and love and unselfish service.  We've seen that the original words for faith describe more than reason and propositional beliefs (read the last several blog posts to see the whole picture here).  Fiducia is about a relaxed, worry-free trust and confidence in God.  Fidelitas emphasizes a deep loyalty, allegiance, and faithfulness in heart, soul, mind, and body to God - a desire and choice to stay on the journey no matter what.  And Visio is vision, a way of seeing – a way of seeing “what is,” of seeing the whole - a choice to see Reality, God, the Sacred as life-giving and nourishing (as opposed to hostile and threatening or indifferent).  So let's unpack Visio a bit more and notice how vision (how you see the whole) impacts personal faith and spirituality.

Faith As Vision (Seeing What Is)

There's an ancient story about Jesus and a blind man that illustrates the nature of faith as Visio and how that impacts life:

^35-37Jesus came to the outskirts of Jericho. A blind man was sitting beside the road asking for handouts. When he heard the rustle of the crowd, he asked what was going on. They told him, "Jesus the Nazarene is going by."  ³⁸He yelled, "Jesus! Son of David! Mercy, have mercy on me!"

³⁹Those ahead of Jesus told the man to shut up, but he only yelled all the louder, "Son of David! Mercy, have mercy on me!"

⁴⁰Jesus stopped and ordered him to be brought over. When he had come near, Jesus asked, "What do you want from me?"  ⁴¹He said, "Master, I want to see again."  ^42-43Jesus said, "Go ahead—see again! Your faith has saved and healed you!" The healing was instant: He looked up, seeing—and then followed Jesus, glorifying God. Everyone in the street joined in, shouting praise to God. (Luke 18)

Notice the contrasting visions of Reality, God, and life between the crowd and the blind man.  Placed in the context of theologian H. Richard Niebuhr's description of the 3 ways of seeing "the Whole" - Reality and Life (as I described in my last blog post) - it's interesting to see how those differing "visions" play out in this story.

THE CROWD	THE BLIND MAN
Who Jesus is:  the Nazarene – a local religious dignitary at best; so he's being seen as too busy to help a blind man; plus this view says that blindness is a punishment from God so why would a religious leader help?  The blind man is under divine judgment.	Who Jesus is:  Son of David – a designation for Messiah, chosen of God; Jesus is God's representative.
How Jesus will respond:  don’t bother him – he’s too busy, too important	How Jesus will respond:  if I can just be noticed or make myself heard, Jesus will listen and do something for me; God is on the side of sinners
The Universe:  conditional; you get only what you deserve, and you deserve only what you put it; different “layers” or stratas in life based upon worthiness, value	The Universe:  capable of giving mercy; responsive to need
Life Response:  structured and ordered – must follow by the rules of those structures – must act appropriately (keep yourself in your designated place)	Life Response:  courageous; break the rules at times when the need is greater than the system; some confidence of being heard; live life with passion and desire; express it

There are some significant implications of these contrasting visions for our faith journey:

• Notice how Jesus connects the issue of faith with “seeing” in the blind man’s experience.  In contrast to the crowd who “sees” Jesus in a very limited way (a local man, albeit a religious dignitary), this blind man, even before he’s healed of his physical blindness, in fact already “sees” – Jesus affirms to him, “You’re actually 'seeing' more than these other people who have their eyesight.”  The man’s faith in Jesus as the Chosen of God (the anointed Messiah who comes to deliver captives and bring wholeness to the broken of Israel) reveals his "enlightenment" and ability to "see."  This man’s “vision” of Jesus is as one from God who will bring him healing or at the very least is interested in his well-being and state in life.  If nothing else, Jesus will at least give him some alms for his next meal.  His view of God’s Kingdom is one of well-being, being nourished and sustained – the God of this Kingdom is gracious.  And this kind of faith empowers the man with courage, with boldness, with persistence and tenacity in the face of obstacles and social rejection.  The point illustrated here is, how you “see” the whole impacts your experience!
• Jesus says to him, “Your faith has saved you and healed you!”  Those are the words for wholeness and salvation and completeness – before he has received his physical eyesight.  Seeing – vision – this kind of faith – is a matter of the heart, the perspective – a choice you make about how you want to look at life, the world, the universe, God.  You may not be able to prove it all, but you choose to live with a paradigm of grace, confidence, compassion, and self-forgetfulness – a belief in God as a gracious, supportive, compassionate, faithful Force in your life that empowers you to not live in fear, anxiety, uncertainty, and insecurity.  One whom you’re willing to follow even when you might not feel all the reality of it.  It’s still truth to you and you shape your life around it.  As Neibuhr said, How we see the whole radically affects how we respond to life!

So here are some personal questions for your reflection:

1. Where are you in the three differing views of Reality Niebuhr describes (see my last blog post) with your VISION for Life and Faith?  Which “reality” tends to be what you SEE?  Why?
2. What do you tend to do to cultivate that VISION?
3. In this series, we’ve talked about FAITH as confident trust, faithfulness/loyalty, and vision of a gracious God. Which of those words for faith do you relate to the most (tends to be your "normal" faith experience)?  Which one would you like to possess the most?

Conclusion

Remember Mother Teresa and how her diary reveals the deep doubts and frequent sense of abandonment by God she experienced in her life?  And yet, in the midst of all this darkness, she continued living her life, following the Way of Jesus of self-forgetfulness and abandonment to God, by giving herself tireless and compassionately to the forsaken ones in Calcutta.  In reality, she was empowered to live this powerful life because she made a choice to “see” all of Life, including her faith in God and her view of others, in the context of goodness and graciousness.  She made a commitment to that Vision.

In an undated diary entry written to Jesus, she wrote, “If this brings You glory — if souls are brought to you [because of my struggling with personal darkness and pain from not feeling your Presence] — with joy I accept all to the end of my life.”

TIME magazine, in August 2007, did a cover story titled, “Mother Teresa’s Crisis of Faith,” after her diary was published.  They told the story about her encounter in 1968 with the British writer-turned-filmmaker Malcolm Muggeridge who visited Teresa. Muggeridge had been an outspoken agnostic, but by the time he arrived with a film crew in Calcutta he was in full spiritual-search mode. Beyond impressing him with her work and her holiness, she wrote a letter to him in 1970 that addressed his doubts full-bore.  It was almost like she was talking to herself and describing her own journey of faith.

She wrote:  "Your longing for God is so deep and yet He keeps Himself away from you," she wrote. "He must be forcing Himself to do so — because he loves you so much — the personal love Christ has for you is infinite — The Small difficulty you have re His Church is finite — Overcome the finite with the infinite."

Muggeridge apparently did. He became an outspoken Christian apologist and converted to Catholicism in 1982. His 1969 film, Something Beautiful for God, supported by a 1971 book of the same title, made Teresa an international sensation.  And Mother Teresa apparently heeded her own advice - she walked through the darkness by overcoming the finite with the infinite.  She chose to maintain her faith in the God of her Beloved Jesus even when she couldn't feel the love.  She chose to give the Love anyway, in acts of profound self-forgetfulness and compassion, to those who needed it.

Faith as vision chooses to see the Whole of life in a very profound way – that Life is nourishing and life-giving, that God is gracious, even in the midst of not experiencing it that way all the time.  Because in the end, that vision is the most empowering for a life of compassion, giving, and unselfish serving and blessing to the world.  Faith isn’t just a matter of the head – believing certain propositional statements about God – faith is a matter of the heart – a deliberate choosing to allow your heart to trust, to have confidence, to be faithful and loyal to the best in Life – and yes, to believe (which before modern times literally meant to belove) – to believe that God is gracious – to belove God and to belove what God beloves.  That’s the kind of faith that produces an empowering and sustaining spiritual life!

So how’s your vision today?  How about joining me in the following personal prayer.

MY PRAYER:  “If Jesus were here in front of me today and asked me what I wanted, like the blind man, I would say, ‘Master, I want to see again!’  I confess there are times when I look at life through the lens of fear, anxiety, self-preoccupation and lack of confidence.  But today I choose to see the Universe as life-giving and nourishing.  I choose to see beauty and feel wonder and awe and gratitude for life.  I choose, God, to see you as gracious and compassionate.  I choose to be willing to live beyond myself, to spend and be spent for the sake of others.  I choose to live in freedom, joy, peace, and love.  O God, I want to see!  Amen.”

Developing A Faith That Works, 4: A Way of Seeing

[Please SHARE this blog with people who might be interested!  Hit the button on the right to subscribe or to share the post] In August of 2007 the New York Times reported that in her collection of letters, Come Be My Light, Mother Teresa (1910-97) confessed that for years she had harbored deep, troubling doubts about the existence of God, even as she worked tirelessly to relieve the pain and suffering of the sick and dying in Calcutta.

In one of her journal entries, she cried out, "Where is my Faith - even deep down right in there is nothing, but emptiness & darkness - My God - how painful is this unknown pain - I have no Faith - I dare not utter the words & thoughts that crowd in my heart - & make me suffer untold agony.  When I try to raise my thoughts to Heaven - there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like sharp knives & hurt my very soul. - I am told God loves me - and yet the reality of darkness & coldness & emptiness is so great that nothing touches my soul. Did I make a mistake in surrendering blindly to the Call of the Sacred Heart?"

Her honest confession evoked a wave of criticism.  Was she a hypocrite?  Had she been faking it all along?  Or was she, as atheists are now claiming triumphantly, simply a self-deluded person trying to have a faith in something that obviously doesn't exist?

But in the flood of public comments that followed the publishing of her diaries, a student named Krista E. Hughes made the most telling comment in a letter to the editor.  "Mother Teresa's life," she wrote, "exemplifies the living aspect of faith, something sorely needed in a society where Christian identity is most often defined in terms of what a person believes rather than how he or she lives.  Shouldn't it be the other way around?"

Krista Hughes speaks truth, and Mother Teresa illustrates that truth:  faith is not just about what you believe, whether you give mental assent to a propositional statement about what Reality is or isn't; faith isn't simply believing that God exists.  Faith is, as Harvey Cox (emeritus professor at Harvard Divinity School) in his book The Future of Faith puts it, "more a matter of embodiment than of axioms ... a way of life, a guiding compass ... the experience OF the divine displacing theories ABOUT it." And sometimes the experience of the divine is more an action in harmony with the Presence than a feeling of Presence (as Mother Teresa showed).

There were times Mother Teresa wasn't even sure God existed, at least for her.  But she continued living the Way of Love to the suffering and dying poor in Calcutta.  She continued the practice of compassion regardless of her doubts because of her love for Jesus not just her experience of Jesus.

That's why Jesus called himself "The way, the truth, and the life."  And to illustrate an experience of Jesus in this reality, his disciples were called followers of The Way.  Following Jesus meant walking the path of Jesus, the path of self-denial and unconditional compassion and justice.  Spiritual practices and disciplines emerged to help empower followers to walk this Way of Jesus.  Following that was known as a life of faith – a way of the heart, not just the head.

SO IN THIS SERIES, we've been taking a look at three words that are translated as "faith."  We're unpacking each word and exploring what it means and what the differing nuances suggest about developing a faith that works in real life, a faith that transforms life, a faith that defines ourselves and produces a rich and deeper experience of both God and Life.  It's a return to the core of what religion was always meant to facilitate but has too often lost along the way:  a transformation of the heart.  So far, we’ve looked at FAITH AS fiducia – trust, relaxed confidence, fidelitas – faithfulness, loyalty, allegiance.  The third word is visio.

Faith As Vision

The third Latin word for faith is visio which literally means “likeness, face, visage."  It's our English word for “vision.”  This is faith as a way of seeing – a way of seeing “what is,” of seeing the whole.  The Christian New Testament often connects faith with seeing a certain way.  H. Richard Niebuhr, a mid-twentieth century theologian, in his book The Responsible Self, speaks of the central importance of how we see the whole of what is, for how we see the whole will affect how we respond to life.  He describes three contrasting ways of seeing life and reality.  Notice the corresponding attitudes and responses to life with each life vision.

REALITY 1:  Life is hostile and Threatening.  Corresponding attitudes:  Paranoia; “None of us gets out of here alive”; Life is filled with threats to our existence.  Response to life is:  Defensive; Seek to build systems of security and self-protection to fend off hostile powers; God is our Judge - God is going to get us – unless we do the right things to secure His favor.

REALITY 2:  Life is indifferent.  Corresponding attitudes:  “What is” is simply indifferent to human purposes and ends and meanings; Universe is neither hostile to nor supportive of our lives and dreams.  Response to life is:  Less anxious and paranoid than the first vision; But still likely to be defensive and precautionary; We build up what security we can in the midst of an indifferent universe; Though we may enjoy times of rich aesthetic to life, ultimately, we are likely to be concerned primarily for ourselves and those who are most important to us.

REALITY 3:  Life is life-giving and nourishing.  Corresponding attitudes:  Sees reality as gracious; It has brought us and everything that is into existence; It is filled with wonder and beauty, even if sometimes a terrible beauty; Jesus’ theology:  God feeds the birds and lilies, clothes them; God sends rain on the just and unjust; God is generous.  Response to life is:  Faith as a radical trust in God; Frees us from the anxiety, self-preoccupation, and concern to protect the self with systems of security that mark the first two viewpoints; Leads to a “self-forgetfulness of faith and thus to the ability to love and to be present to the moment”; Generates a “willingness to spend and be spent” for the sake of a vision that goes beyond ourselves; St. Paul:  leads to a life of freedom, joy, peace, and love.

Niebuhr's point is that the way we see the whole radically impacts the way we live life.  Vision makes a transforming difference.  And since faith is about vision, how we see, the quality of one's faith directly affects the quality of one's life.  This is why Albert Einstein made the provocative observation, "The most important question you'll ever ask yourself is, Is the universe friendly?"  With all his scientific knowledge, along with his growing spiritual awareness, he began to put the two "worlds" together and realized that one's perspective on the universe and the cosmos and the Force behind and in it all was a hugely important issue.  Is Life, is God, is the Universe friendly or not?  That starting point affects everything.

But to develop a vision of reality as life-giving and nourishing is not to be naive or to turn a blind eye to the darker side of life.  Here's the way Marcus Borg summarized it:  “Niebuhr was no Pollyanna.  He knew about the Holocaust and all the terrible things that we are capable of doing to each other.  The point is not that reality is simply ‘nice,’ or that one can demonstrate that it is gracious.  Rather, the point is that how we see reality matters, for how we see ‘what is’ profoundly affects how we experience and live our lives.” Marcus Borg, The Heart of Christianity, p. 36

Faith then is a choice for how you want to see, what lens you want to look at life through.  As quantum physicists are saying these days, your perspective helps to create and shape your reality.  You end up seeing what you choose to see.  The depth and quality of your spirituality and faith is a lot about making choices about vision and sight and a view of reality.  And what you decide impacts what you experience.

So of the three realities Niebuhr describes, which do you tend to live in the most?  How has that impacted your life experience?  Do you see yourself as being able to change visions and lens?  Or are you simply stuck where you're at?  Are you living out of an expansive and liberating life view or a constricted and confining view?  Are you caught up in your own little world (preoccupied with self survival) or are you living life with a clear vision of the whole, an ability to live beyond yourself in loving response to others?  Or like many people, perhaps you're somewhere in the middle between those two poles, leaning toward one side or the other depending on your current life circumstances?

I'm amazed at Mother Teresa's honest recounting of her often painful spiritual journey.  But I'm also comforted.  I can relate to pieces of her journey.  Faith isn't about never doubting God or about never questioning or about having all the right answers.  Faith is about staying on the journey even in the midst of uncertainty, about hanging on even when you can't sense the divine.  And that comes from a certain vision, a way of choosing to look at life and what's most important.  Mother Teresa, though not feeling God's direct comforting presence, chose to hang on, continually addressed her journal to her Jesus,  expressed honestly her doubt and pain, and kept on working for the poor and suffering in the world anyway.  She chose to live compassionately as her highest value.  Which of the above 3 Realities was she choosing to see and live from?

In my next blog post, we'll look at an intriguing story from ancient scripture showing how these contrasting views of reality impact life experiences and how this Latin word for faith (visio) plays out.  Maybe you'll see your current faith journey illustrated somewhere in the story.  Stay tuned.

Developing A Faith That Works, 2: What Is Fidelity?

[Please SHARE this blog with people who might be interested!  Hit the button on the right to subscribe or to share the post] The word "faith," especially to Westernized Christians, has come to be seen as a primarily notional experience - having to do with what you think about God.  It tends to mean holding a certain set of "beliefs," believing a set of statements to be true, whether cast as biblical teachings or doctrines or dogma.  Your faith is judged by how much you believe and how accurate your beliefs are.  If you possess this "right" kind of faith, you're called a "believer."

As a result, this concept of faith as primarily an intellectual exercise has turned faith almost exclusively into a matter of the head, too often with disastrous results by heartless, nonloving "believers."

But significantly, that was not the central meaning and usage of the word "faith" in the history of human religion (including early Christianity).  As Karen Armstrong, in her powerful book The Case For God, states, "Religion was not primarily something that people thought but something they did ... Religion [from its very inception in human history] was always a practical discipline that teaches us to discover new capacities of mind and heart."

It was a way of being and living, not simply a way of thinking.  The stories and sacred scriptures of every religion emphasized the journey of heart and spirit in learning the sacred art of self-forgetfulness and compassion.  As a result, religions developed powerful rituals and practices that, if followed and wholeheartedly engaged in, would enable adherents to step "outside" their egos and experience the Sacred and Divine, empowering them to live more compassionately and unselfishly toward others.

For example, as Armstrong points out, the early Chinese Daoists (over 300 years before Jesus and the early Christian followers) saw religion as a "knack" primarily acquired by constant practice.  They, like the earlier Buddha and even Confucius, refused to spend lots of time speculating about the many metaphysical conundrums concerning the divine (as Buddha once said to a follower who constantly pestered with those kind of questions:  "You are like a man who has been shot with a poisoned arrow and refuses medical treatment until you have discovered the name of your assailant and what village he came from.  You would die before you got this perfectly useless information!").

Zhuangzi (c. 370-311 BCE), one of the most important figures in the spiritual history of China, explained that it was no good trying to analyze religious teachings logically.  He then cited the carpenter Bian:  "When I work on a wheel, if I hit too softly, pleasant as this is, it doesn't make for a good wheel.  If I hit it furiously, I get tired and the thing doesn't work!  So not too soft, not too vigorous.  I grasp it in my hand and hold it in my heart.  I cannot express this by word of mouth, I just know it."

Like the Chinese hunchback who trapped cicadas in the forest with a sticky pole and never missed a single one.  He had so perfected his powers of concentration that he lost himself in the task, and his hands seemed to move by themselves.  He had no idea how he did it exactly, but he knew only that he had acquired the knack after months of practice.  This "self-forgetfulness," Zhuangzi explained, was a "stepping outside" the prism of ego and experience of the sacred.  (from Armstrong, The Case For God, pp. xii-xiii, 23.)

No wonder Jesus, centuries later, reiterated this paradigm of spirituality and religious experience when he called his followers to "take up your cross and follow me."  He's not simply talking about believing in your head the right doctrines and the core truths.  He's talking about a "way" of living.  Referring to his own experience as the example for his followers, he said, "I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who is willing to give up his life in this world will keep it forever." John 12:24-25

Genuine faith is not just about your head, it's about your heart, it's about your journey, it's about life transformation that comes from self-forgetfulness and an experience with God the Sacred and the Divine.

SO IN THIS SERIES, we're taking a look at the four words that are translated as "faith."  We're unpacking each word and exploring what it means and what the differing nuances suggest about developing a faith that works in real life, a faith that transforms life, a faith that defines ourselves and produces a rich and deeper experience of both God and Life.  It's a return to the core of what religion was always meant to facilitate but has too often lost along the way:  a transformation of the heart.  In my last blog, we explored the 1^st word for faith, “fiducia,” from which we get our English word "fiduciary" (a person in whom we place our trust to protect our finances and estate).  So “trust," is the central definition, which in the realm of faith then conveys a profound kind of relaxed, solid, worry-free confidence in God as a power that can be trusted and relied upon to have our best interests in mind.

Today's word for faith is "fidelitas," which is the Latin word for "fidelity."  It literally means loyalty, faithfulness – originally referring to a vassal's loyalty to his Lord; a steadfast and devoted attachment that is not easily turned aside; constancy, steadfastness.  Faith as fidelity means loyalty, allegiance, the commitment of the self at its deepest level, the commitment of the “heart” to the experience of God not simply to statements about God.  A radical centering in God from your heart and soul not just your mind.  So what does that look like in real life terms?

There are two metaphors that the sacred scriptures use in describing our faith relationship with God that I'll unpack in my next blog post.  These metaphors describe what "fidelity" is NOT and so help to increase our understanding of what genuine faith as fidelity and loyalty is.  Stay tuned!

Spiritual Lessons From the Rainbow

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Don't you just love seeing rainbows?  There's something both ethereal and inspiring about them.  People get so excited when they see one in the sky, telling whomever's around, "Look!  There's a rainbow!  Over there, over there!  See it?"  And everyone strains their necks to get a glimpse of those spectacular colors in the sky.  It's almost as though seeing a rainbow brings some kind of unique gift to the observer (kind of like the proverbial treasure at the end of the rainbow).  And if you're really lucky, you might see a double rainbow sometime - double the luck or blessing. Rainbows have been centrally portrayed in art, literature, music, and sacred scriptures for millenniums.  For example, in John Everett Millais' 1856 oil painting he titled, "The Blind Girl," he used the rainbow - one of the beauties of nature that the blind girl cannot experience - to underline the pathos of her condition.  Notice how she sits there, totally incapable of seeing this double wonder of nature that the little girl in her lap is craning her neck to see and enjoy.  A rainbow is so powerfully evocative of life and hope, if you can't see one, you've missed a profound human experience.

In most religious cultures, the rainbow is a symbol of the divine presence, the bow of God, the brilliant light display of glory around God's throne.  So the rainbow evoked a kind of deep spiritual fervor and hope for a divinely blessed life.

And here's where this beautiful symbol and metaphor takes on expanded meaning.  Experts tell us that there are 7 basic colors to the light spectrum we see in the rainbow:  red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet.  But in reality, as they point out, there are infinitely many wavelengths between 380 and 740 nanometers - the visible spectrum of light. That doesn't even count the different tints and shades obtained by mixing in white, black, etc. So, in truth, there is an infinite number of colors, if you look at it that way.

"The actual estimate for how many different colors the human eye can distinguish varies between one and ten million, depending on the reference which you consult. However, the perception of color varies from one person to another, so there can be no single number that is true for everyone. The number of different colors that you, as an individual, can distinguish also varies dramatically according to the conditions; it drops to zero in low light conditions, in which only the rod cells of the retina can function, as the cone cells of the retina are required for color vision." (Paula E. Burch, Ph.D.)

In other words, the whole color experience and reality of the light spectrum is about diversity, differences, innumerable options and shades and perceptions.  No one person sees it the same way.  And there's infinite variety in what can be seen.

So here's what we have with the rainbow:  a powerful universal symbol of Hope, of the divine presence and blessing, and of the amazingly rich diversity in the human experience.  Amazing, isn't it?  That which has always been a symbol for God is also a picture of infinite diversity.

Like sometimes happens when we end up missing the opportunity to see a rainbow because we're perhaps looking somewhere else or distracted by something else or simply not looking for one, could it be that we too often miss experiencing a profound divine blessing because we don't appreciate the rich diversity of life?  We don't see God in the midst of life's variety and infinite spectrum of life because we've boxed God inside boundaries that are in fact too limiting to the infinite God of life - boundaries of belief, boundaries of faith, boundaries of the way we think people should be like.   We allow ourselves to have such narrow expectations of ourselves, others, life, and even God and end up shrinking our souls a bit more and more as time goes by.  If spirituality involves the experience of the Sacred and Divine in all of life, then our spirituality is diminished by refusing to let God encounter us in the midst of the rich diversity and variety and differences inherent in the fabric of life all around us.  To experience diversity is to experience God.

So why would any one of us think we had the conclusive picture of reality and life?  Why would any one of us think that there's only one way to look at God, or there's any one religion or organization that speaks exclusively for God, or there's only a few ways to be human, or there's only one perspective on an issue, or that some people are better than others?  It's too much of a tendency for me to put people in boxes or to place my expectations on others, thinking they need to be more like me.  It's too easy for me to sometimes feel threatened by someone else's views or contributions or life, thinking that if they get away with their perspective, I'm diminished in some way - rather than embracing the truth that all of us are strengthened and deepened if we each are given the freedom and encouragement to be ourselves.  The very nature of life, as the rainbow so beautifully portrays, is the beauty and divinity of diversity.

No wonder William Wordsmith's 1802 poem "My Heart Leaps Up When I Behold the Rainbow" begins:

My heart leaps up when I behold

A rainbow in the sky:

So was it when my life began;

So is it now I am a man;

So be it when I shall grow old,

Or let me die!…

I love the passion for life he portrays.  He feels his heart "leaping up" when he sees the rainbow - he willingly enters into the joy of life, allowing himself to be ushered into the chambers of awe, wonder, mystery, and Spirit.  It's so valuable for him to experience this divine reality of life through the rainbow that if he can't have it, he would just as soon die.  Why go through life just trying to make it to death safely?  That's not living.  That's being dead already, even though the heart might be pumping and beating.  Wordsworth's reality is that life leaps for joy when it sees the rainbow - the depth and richness of life happen in the midst of variety and diversity and difference.

I want a deep and more joyful life, don't you?  So maybe we should open up the box more to include more, to appreciate and value more, to be aware of more, to experience more.  Maybe we should let God be more.  And then watch ourselves be surprised by the God of the rainbow!

Mindfulness in the Sanctuary of Jiffy Lube

[Please SHARE this blog with people who might be interested!  Invite them to subscribe and receive every new post via email – hit the button on the right to subscribe.] There's a Zen story about an old zen master who was dying.  All of the monks gathered - in a kind of restrained eagerness  - around the deathbed, hoping to be chosen as the next teacher.

The master asked slowly, "Where is the gardener?"

"The gardener," the monks wondered aloud.  "He is just a simple man who tends plants, and he is not even ordained."

"Yes," the master replied.  "But he is the only one awake.  He will be the next teacher."

Apparently there's something about working in and being present to the natural world that produces a kind of "awakeness" toward Life.  The famous painter Vincent Van Gogh expressed this same reality:  "All nature seems to speak ... As for me, I cannot understand why everybody does not see it or feel it; nature or God does it for everyone who has eyes and ears and a heart to understand." (The Complete Letters, 248, I, 495)

There's something spiritually stimulating about being in nature and allowing it to speak to your heart and mind and soul.  There's something powerful about getting close enough to creation to hear its song and listen to its rhymes.  Every major religion in the world recognizes the spirituality of nature and provides various ways to become more "awake" to the voice of the Sacred that speaks from the world all around us.  It's pretty amazing what we begin to notice when we're being more mindful and aware of everything we see, hear, and feel.

I was sitting in the waiting section of the oil change garage off of the busy Van Ness Ave. in San Francisco last week.  My chair was close to the garage entrance so I could see the street.  I was thinking about the upcoming spiritual retreat we were taking with my Second Wind spiritual community, the retreat theme this year being on the spirituality of nature.  My initial response to what I saw and felt in the midst of my very urban environment was to heave a sigh of relief knowing that it wasn't much longer until I was going to finally be out of the city into "real" nature where I could hear God's voice and feel closer to the Spirit of life.  But then, as I looked outside the huge garage door and saw the cars driving past, hearing the traffic sounds, I was suddenly struck by a significant reality:  I was surrounded by "nature" right there in the middle of my huge city.  It wasn't just the green trees on the median of this busy boulevard, or the birds I saw flying overhead.  The heart and soul of nature was also evident in the awe-inspiring creative spirit that went into the design and construction of today's modern vehicles - the intricate, micro "creation" of computer chips and boards running the cars and trucks, the impressive design of the engines propelling vehicles toward their destination, the guys changing the oil in my car, running back and forth, using their appendages skillfully to service my amazingly constructed automobile (even though I kind of hate my old car these days and wish I could get a nicer new one).  Even the sounds that we so much associate with "anti-nature" (car horns, exhaust pipes from loud buses and trucks, traffic, construction sites, loud voices) are in fact the sounds of life, all of which involve the divine spirit of creativity, artistry, invention, passion, desire for the best in life).  And when that perspective hit me, I became aware of "nature" in the middle of my city in new ways that led to a deeper appreciation of God's Spirit all around me.  I had a very meaningful spiritual epiphany right there on busy Van Ness Avenue - I encountered the God of life in the sanctuary of Jiffy Lube!

Living with our "eyes" more open wherever we find ourselves, suggest the spiritual sages of all time, produces a deeper experience of life and an increased connection with God.  Nature is where life is; and life is everywhere.  I do realize, in addition, that being in environments that are more silent and quiet and environmentally natural is extremely conducive to spiritual depth and connection, as well.  But it's amazing how often even when we're in those settings we simply don't see or hear the Sacred Spirit of life very deeply - we're too busy "doing" instead of simply "being" attentive.  Intentional mindfulness helps make the connection.

The Hebrew poets in Scripture manifested this intentionality with nature so profoundly in describing their experience of God.  Their poetic similes and metaphors were filled with an environmental awareness that opened their hearts to the Divine Creator.  One pointed to the other.  God was both in His creation and the Master of Creation.  Looking at one was like looking at the other.  They facilitated experience, one with the other.  Notice this example:

"O my soul, bless God! God, my God, how great you are! beautifully, gloriously robed, Dressed up in sunshine, and all heaven stretched out for your tent. You built your palace on the ocean deeps, made a chariot out of clouds and took off on wind-wings. You commandeered winds as messengers, appointed fire and flame as ambassadors. You set earth on a firm foundation so that nothing can shake it, ever ... What a wildly wonderful world, God! You made it all, with Wisdom at your side, made earth overflow with your wonderful creations ... The glory of God-let it last forever! Let God enjoy his creation!" (Psalm 104)

There is a profound spirituality associated with nature that is accessed by developing a greater mindfulness or awakeness or awareness of what you're seeing and experiencing.  That's why, at Second Wind, we value the natural world and desire to enjoy it, honor it, respect it, care for it, and share it often.  And we also value the city we live in as a place where God's breath blows and moves and stirs up life, too.  As urban dwellers, we're learning to feel the divine breath energize us and bring us to life in the middle of our urban "forests," where the voice of God sings to our souls the music of life.

This last weekend, on our Second Wind retreat, our closing "ceremony" was to write a collective psalm of praise to God, each one of us writing two lines describing our personal experience of the weekend, and then putting them all together into one song.  After taking a few minutes to compose our two lines, we stood in a circle and read our lines in one complete collective psalm.  I'm telling you, it was a profound experience for me as I listened to the richly diverse and meaningful ways everyone had encountered God and experienced the depth of life through the retreat time, described in some wonderfully poetic tones.  Our intentional experiences of heightened awareness and awakeness, including times for reflection upon and observation of those experiences, revealed a significant spiritual epiphany for all of us.  The power of keeping our eyes, ears, hearts, spirits, and bodies open to Life!

As Van Gogh once said, "Oh! My dear comrades, let us crazy ones have delight in our eyesight in spite of everything - yes, let's!"

Where Do You Want To Be When The Earthquake Hits?

''I think the safest place in San Francisco in a major earthquake is the Bank of America.'' That statement is amazing, considering that the Bank of America building in San Francisco's financial district is the second tallest skyscraper in the city.  For most of us, the thought of being in such a tall building during a big earthquake is enough to force us into an emergency potty break!

But those words were spoken by Dr. Mario Salvadori, a New York engineer who has written several standard texts on structural engineering, immediately following the 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake in San Francisco which ended up causing the collapse of some major highways, sections of bridges, and some buildings, killing several hundred people.  He's an expert.  But his statement feels so counter-intuitive, doesn't it?

Then he explained himself:  ''We design high-rises so that their structures will stand up.  They are flexible enough to vibrate and sway, but not break up. If there are cracks, they are in things like partitions and windowpanes, not the basic frame. ''

Apparently, in planning for earthquakes, engineers today have come to value flexibility more than strength. For example, small elements of the infrastructure like gas lines and water mains are often designed with elastic loops so they bend rather than break.

Buildings are more flexible too. Dr. Salvadori compares a faulty building to a dry old tree, strong but liable to break under heavy winds, and a well-engineered one to a reed, lighter, more resilient and less likely to snap.

''A building's ability to absorb motion is as important as its ability to withstand collapse,'' said Robert Silman, a New York structural engineer.

The need for flexibility was well understood by one architect who lacked the benefits of today's advanced engineering. In his design for the Imperial Hotel in Tokyo, completed in 1923, Frank Lloyd Wright placed the building on a foundation that resembled floating pads. The hotel was virtually the only major downtown building to survive the earthquake that devastated Tokyo that year.

Flexibility.  Ability to absorb motion.  Pliable.  Resilient.  Bendable.  Nonrigid.  Hard to imagine words like these being used to describe stable skyscrapers.  And yet it's true.  And as counter-intuitive as it might seem, the same words apply to effective life and spirituality.

Learning how to hold life with an open hand, learning how to be flexible and nonrigid, learning how to adapt and change when necessary, learning when it's important to compromise and share, are not easy things to do.  What is often too easy to do is putting people (including ourselves) and life experiences and even God into boxes of simplistic expectations and definitions.  We think that by being able to define someone or something clearly enough we can be more secure in our experiences.  Our expectations can be fulfilled.  Everything will work out just the way we hoped and expected and carefully planned.

But people, life, and especially God are not that predictable.  Isn't that what quantum mechanics is teaching us - the universe is not as orderly and simplistic as Isaac Newton once thought.  Sub-atomic particles act in often random and unexpected ways.  Things can't always be reduced to cause and effect.

A man in one of my congregations years ago was the epitome of physical health, radically advocating a vegan diet as the only remedy for illness and a medically sound life including salvific spirituality.  He ended up dying of cancer.  Not exactly his predicted and proclaimed outcome.

Some parents I knew years ago did everything "right" (according to the parenting books and their view of Scripture).  One of their daughters ended up getting pregnant during her teen-aged years and running away from home.  Not exactly according to hoped for or predicted outcomes.

I knew a husband whose paradigm of marriage was that as long as he provided the necessary comforts of living for his wife she would be happy and fulfilled in their marriage.  "I bring home 'the bacon' and she'll be happy."  He couldn't figure out why she was expressing such high dissatisfaction.

Let's face it.  Sometimes our expectations and perspectives are simply misguided.  But even when we're right, the outcomes aren't guaranteed.  Life is messier and more unpredictable than that.  And all the experts remind us that unless we are willing to live with a degree of flexibility and nonrigidity, unless we learn how to live with an open hand and develop an ability to be pliable and absorb change, we'll live with disappointment, disillusionment, and resentment.  We can't put people much less God in boxes of our own construction and think we've figured them all out and can therefore know exactly what to expect.

One of the radically transforming views of God in the Hebrew and Christian scriptures is the reality that God often acts in unpredictable ways.  Who would've thought God would show up in a burning bush (like God did with Moses)?  Who would've thought God would bring water out of rocks to quench the Israelites' thirst in the desert on their way to the Promised Land?  Who would've expected the incarnated God to show up as a tiny baby in a feeding trough in a cave in Palestine?

Don't put God in a predictable box, says scripture.  God is beyond our limited imagination and expectations.  Be open.  Be pliable.

And then Jesus ends up by shaping the same paradigm for fellow humans.  "When you feed the hungry, give water to the thirsty, clothe the naked, and honor the enslaved, you are doing those things to me." It was this radical, unexpected spiritual paradigm that motivated Mother Teresa to spend her life caring for poor, dying children on the streets of Calcutta.  "Every child I hold in my arms is in fact Jesus," she said.  Who would've thought that the homeless person on the street corner, or the unreasonable boss down the hall, or the obtuse spouse in your bed, was in fact Jesus?  And the truth is that even Jesus defied popular expectations and predictions with his nonconformist behavior.

We can't put each other in predictable, self-limiting boxes, either, without doing disservice to each other and minimizing our ability to love and serve in meaningful ways.  We can't put each other in strait jackets and hope to have deep and fulfilling relationships.  We have to hold each other with open hands, leaving room for the unexpected and unknown about each other, being willing to change and move with the shifting motion of life.  It's an art form that takes lots of practice and patience!  I'm still working on my 10,000 hours on this one (see my last blog post).

And life continues to show that the unmovable, the rigid, the unbendable end up breaking.

Here's the way the Tao Te Ching (authored by the 6th century B.C. Chinese spiritual philosopher Laozi) puts it:

"A man is born gentle and weak. At his death he is hard and stiff. Green plants are tender and filled with sap. At their death they are withered and dry. Therefore the stiff and unbending is the disciple of death. The gentle and yielding is the disciple of life. Thus an army without flexibility never wins a battle. A tree that is unbending is easily broken. The hard and strong will fall. The soft and weak will overcome." (Tao Te Ching, LXXVI)

I'll never forget being on the 23rd floor of our apartment building during the big earthquake in Seattle 8 years ago.  I was astounded at how much the building swayed - so much so that I thought for a moment we were going over!  But then I was told that we were experiencing exactly what the building had been designed to do in an earthquake.  Phew!  Definitely counter-intuitive!

Structural engineers are obviously on to something when it comes to quake-proofing buildings - develop strong structures but keep them flexible and pliable and bendable.  So when the Big One hits San Francisco, I hope I'm in the Bank of America building!

Is There More To Life Than What You See?

There's a profound dynamic to sailing that goes beyond the scale of the boat, the engineering, the rigging, all the equipment that helps the boat go fast and stable, that goes beyond even the condition of the water and even the crew.  It is in fact, ironically enough, that which cannot be seen.  And without it, there would be no sailing.  Figured out what it is? Exactly.  Wind.  It's the whole force behind sailing.  You can't see it.  You can only feel it and notice its impact.  And believe me, it's quite a force to be reckoned with.  I've at times cursed it and hailed it (depending of course how well I'm doing leveraging it).  And I've been deathly afraid of it (when my boat appeared to be "going down" in the storm).  All of these responses to something you can't even see - but obviously acknowledge is there.

There's an intriguing spiritual dimension to this reality.  And of all people to acknowledge it is Christopher Hitchens, a contributing editor to Vanity Fair, most known for his self-proclaimed role as one of the New Atheists called to debunk the world of religion and religious thought, as most recently revealed in his manifesto book God is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything.  His primary sparring partners tend to be religious conservatives and apologists for fundamentalism.

In a recent interview with a liberal Christian minister he made some surprising philosophical and spiritual observations of sharing a mutual appreciation for "the transcendent" and "the numinous" (which literally means, "surpassing comprehension or understanding; mysterious; filled with or characterized by a sense of a supernatural presence: a numinous place; Spiritually elevated; sublime"):  terms that Hitchens himself introduced into the conversation, not vice versa.

When asked about this, he commented:

"It's innate in us to be overawed by certain moments, say, at evening on a mountaintop or sunset on the boundaries of the ocean. Or, in my case, looking through the Hubble telescope at those extraordinary pictures. We have a sense of awe and wonder at something beyond ourselves, and so we should, because our own lives are very transient and insignificant. That's the numinous, and there's enough wonder in the natural world without any resort to the supernatural being required."

And then he surprisingly took it one step further.  "Everybody has had the experience at some point when they feel that there's more to life than just matter." More to life than just what you can see?

This is quite a profound observation from a person who has refused to embrace acceptance of anything supernatural.  More to life than just matter? Is Hitchens really saying what he seems to be saying here, that "the numinous" refers to the sense that there's something more to our existence than just the material world?

The ancient Hebrews (in Jewish scripture) had no problem acknowledging this reality.  In fact, to them, the scriptures never talked about "spiritual life."  Spirituality was NOT simply one of several aspects of life.  All of life was Sacred, God-breathed, infused with divine wonder and awe.  So they talked about only life.  As my friend Samir Selmanovic points out (in his book It's Really All About God), "the Hebrews loved both God and life.  Obeying God meant being fully human, with every fiber of one's being alive.  One could not experience one without the other...To tune in to human life is to tune in to God.  Existence itself is a sacred place."

There's more to life than just matter.  There's a Spirit to all life.  So embracing life deeply and passionately is a highly spiritual practice.  And historically (among spiritual traditions), this practice has been called "worship."  Living life with a sense that life is sacred, intentionally giving value to life and the Giver of life, embracing the awe and wonder that there is More than simply our existence, that there is a Life Force that flows all around us and in us and through us.  Worship is the spiritual practice of embracing God and showing value to the Divine life.

There's more to life than just matter - worship - embracing "the transcendent" and the "numinous" - giving honor to Life.  Renowned atheist Christopher Hitchens acknowledges this reality (in his own way).  I definitely concur.

In the spiritual community in San Francisco I'm a part of, Second Wind's "W" core value (in our core values acronymn S.E.C.O.N.D. W.I.N.D.) stands for "W.orship."  It's a desire to value living life with a sense of the divine, learning the art of living all of life as sacred, embracing the worldview (as Einstein pointed out) that the Universe is in fact "friendly," that God is the ultimate Force of love and compassion and goodness.  So we're trying to find meaningful and intentional ways to live out this value and important paradigm.  We think this value will empower us to love extravagantly and serve unselfishly to make this world a better place.

And in the end, isn't there something centering and grounding to sense that there is more to life than just matter?  That, as my friends in AA are so wise to regularly affirm, there's a Higher Power beyond myself, greater than myself, that nourishes and sustains and empowers my life toward greater self responsibility leading to wholeness and transformation?

When it comes to sailing, I can tell you that the most effective sailors are those that not only acknowledge the wind but learn how to live with it well, who embrace it and honor it and respect it - who learn the art of leaning into it.

What would it look like in tangible terms for you to embrace this core value, to affirm that there is more to life than matter and what you can see?  How would it impact your daily existence, your relationships, your concerns, your hopes and dreams?  What are specific ways you tend to show deeper value for Life, to carve out space to acknowledge and pay attention and affirm the Sacred in life?  When is the last time you actually thought about there being a Power greater than yourself and expressed respect and honor for It?