Earth and The Church

                I was with my son surfing small waves at the beach near our home. The ocean blended with the horizon and the sky. No wind. Sunshine  licked the surface of water.                                                                                       I sat on my surfboard and watched William ride whitewater to the beach. I felt the warmth of the day upon my shoulders. I watched a pelican that looked like a rusted crowbar dive from the sky. As I watched the pelican emerge from the water with a mullet, I thought about my responsibility to help preserve ocean. I thought to myself, “As one person I can't do much. After all, the ocean is so large.  It spans continents, borders countless towns and cities from here to Africa, and beyond. It borders homes and churches and…”                             And then I thought, “Churches—yes, that's it. That how I might help the ocean, that's how I might help the earth. Earth Day and the Church. It could be a perfect match. After all, Earth Day is about God's creation. From a Christian theological perspective, Earth Day concerns the responsible stewardship of God's planet.”

Historically, the Church, as well as our larger culture, has understood stewardship as the proper management of financial resources. Stewardship has, within the confines of the Christian community, especially denoted the once-a-year pledge-drive. This understanding of stewardship has its place. As the New American Dictionary states,  "A Steward is one who manages another's property or financial affairs."  Yet stewardship, as the definition goes, also implies managing the real property of another.  From a Christian perspective, the earth is ultimately God's real property. As such, the Church is called, in general, to be a responsible steward of God’s property.

Since the rise of earth consciousness many critiques have been rightly leveled against the Christian tradition and its understanding of the earth as something to be forcefully conquered, rather than responsibly cultivated.  The traditional and incessant misreading of "God blessed them, and God said to them, ‘Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth and subdue it (Holy Bible, Genesis 1:28),’ has errantly guided the Church in its handling of the earth’s resources. Furthermore, this errant reading continues to cripple the Church in its moral obligation to protect God's creation.

Admittedly, the phrase to, "subdue the earth" is used in Genesis 1.28 (though nowhere else), but the concept does not reflect an idea of destroying or mismanaging resources—quite the contrary.  In the context of this particular text, the Hebrew term kabash, rendered as "subdue," connotes the cultivation of land, as does its English counterpart.  It may be said that Genesis 1:28 embraces the responsibility of humanity to wisely keep the earth like a house—clean, properly managed, and with attentive care.

The idea of keeping the earth clean and orderly like a house is aptly reflected in the word ecology, which is derived from the Greek word oikos ("Doctrine of the House").  Accordingly, and as the creation narrative in Genesis suggests, we might understand the earth as our dwelling, our house—our home. We are but tenants on the soil—one part of the creation community. As such, we are not to be destroyers of creation, but responsible stewards.

As the ecological crisis continues to worsen, Christians are in a pivotal position to either make a faithful stand for the protection of the earth, by living earth-friendly lives or to watch from the sidelines as the ecological situation becomes even more burdensome for our children’s children. Though Christians have traditionally been on the wrong side of the environmental issue, we have the political might to become leaders in the  responsible stewardship of God's creation. 

As I watched my son catch another wave, the breeze picked up and the sun started going down. I caught a wave, walked to the nose of the board, back peddled, and rode to the beach. William was waiting for me. We were full of smiles. The sun and horizon merged completely and it seemed that all creation was melting into one loud song of joy. Everything blended together. And it seemed to me that God was saying, “Not alone, but together. Together you can make a difference. Together.”

Life Is Not a Dress Rehearsal

Walking with people through the stages of life is one of the greatest assets of my vocation. I have learned a lot from watching people live—and die. I have learned that there are some ways of living and dying that are better than other ways of living and dying. By “better” I mean more full of meaning and zest.

I once did a funeral for a woman who died immediately following retirement. She retired early because in 35 years she had never once taken vacation. She accrued sick leave and personal leave while her friends took trips to the Grand Canyon and Paris.

The woman was very proud to retire early. Her 401K was strong and she even had a pension. The retirement party was grand and all her co-workers were jealous. "You're set", they said. "You’ve got it made," said another, to which the woman replied "Now I will travel and go see the grandkids. I will finally reconcile with my son."

One week after retiring the woman and her husband made up their minds to build their dream home. Her life looked wide-open. Anything seemed possible. The woman felt free and finally ready to live the life that she had only dared to imagine. She planned to seize retirement by the horns.

Two months after retiring early, just as the woman and her husband bought tickets for a Baltic cruise, the woman came down with a cold, or what she thought was a cold. The cold didn't go away. She saw her internist who ran some tests. Six weeks later the woman died.

The moral of this story, which is based on actual events, is: don't put life on hold. Do not live as if you are guaranteed another twenty years, or even another two years. Plan for the future but don't live for the future—because you may not actually get to live the future you imagine.

No one is promised tomorrow. We all know this. But rarely do I meet people who live this way. If you need to reconcile with someone, do it today. If you want to see the Grand Canyon, and you have the money, make your plans. If you dream of building a home and you have the resources, call the architect.

As a man who has done more funerals than he can count, I can safely make you a promise: one day, maybe in five years or maybe in five weeks, you will die. And while death is not something to fear, for God’s arms will enfold you, dying with unfulfilled dreams is often the greatest regret of the dying.

Remember this and speak it to everyone you know: life is not a dress rehearsal.

A Man Who Got It Right

His name was Floyd and he was a sailor. He lived aboard his boat. Floyd’s skin was the texture and color of pine bark and his hair white as flour. Floyd’s eyes called to mind the Willie Nelson song, “Blue Eyes crying in the Rain.” Floyd was a man who, through forty years of sailing the Caribbean, had sucked the marrow from life’s bones, to paraphrase Henry David Thoreau.

I met Floyd one summer afternoon when he stopped by my study at the church. He dressed like a poor Jimmy Buffet. His manner was casual with a touch of formal sincerity. “Reverend,” he said, “I could use some help. I could use a little direction…on how to give back. I’ve been a taker for the last forty years. A rum drinking free spirit who watched out for his own skin and did whatever he liked. But the Lord has been good to me. Hell of a life, I’ve had.”

Floyd continued, as if his speech was forty years in the making. “I need to give back, but I’m not much of a church man.  I thought you might be able to help me…show me how I might help other people. That’s what my life is missing. And I don’t have much time left.”

Jesus often told his disciples that the greatest people are those who are servants of others. And the Dali Lama once said, “A more altruistic attitude is very relevant in today's world…When we say “others” and when we think of others, we will no longer dismiss them as something that is irrelevant to us. We will no longer feel indifferent.”

Floyd did not put his desire to help others in quite this way. But the soul of his desire was similar: he no longer saw “others” as irrelevant. He saw “others” as integral to his own happiness and well- being. He wanted to serve.

I found things for Floyd to do around the church and community. He became a fixture. He seemed to come alive as he helped other people. For almost a year Floyd found little ways to give back; and giving back gave his life renewed meaning.

One day Floyd didn’t show up. Several more days passed. I went looking for him at the marina. His boat bobbed like a cork in the restless wind. A week later his daughter called to tell me that Floyd died. The big “C,” she said.

Floyd taught me something: it’s never too late to serve others. It’s never too late to give back. The night that Floyd’s daughter called me on the phone I took a bottle of rum down to the beach. As the white moon rose above the horizon, I poured myself a glass and raised it in honor of a man who got it right, if only near the end.

May you learn to get it right—today.

In Honor of Mothers

We do not live in a culture that celebrates the honor and importance of motherhood. And yet, it’s impossible to overstate the value of mothers in world history, religious history—and in the life of the leaders of our own nation.

An ancient Jewish proverb states, "God could not be everywhere, and therefore He made mothers." Where would Jesus have been without Mary? Where would Muhammad have been without  Aminah bint Wahb? Where would the Buddha have been without Queen Māyā of Sakya? Where would Moses have been without Jochebed? World history would be vastly different without these mothers and the supportive role they played in their children’s lives.

Abraham Lincoln wrote, “All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother." Many of us can affirm a similar sentiment. And while it’s not true that all mothers are angels, or that all mothers give us wings to soar, most mothers are, more or less, the moral and spiritual rock upon which their children stand. And yet, we do not live in a culture that celebrates the honor and importance of motherhood.

Without mothers, where would the nurture of the world come from? Certainly some fathers have the capacity to care for children. And yet, historically speaking, it has only been a recent phenomenon that fathers have assumed such a role. For the bulk of humanity’s existence, mothers have been the figures who have offered signs of tenderness and self-giving love. Children first know security and affection in and through their mother’s flesh.

I would not be the man that I am today were it not for the sustaining role that my mother has played in my life. My mother believed in me even when I did not believe in myself. She gave me courage when I was timid. She disciplined me when I lied or was disrespectful (I can still feel the switch on the back of my legs). She loves me unconditionally, though she does not always agree with me.

I believe it’s true what Saint Therese of Lisieux said: “The loveliest masterpiece of the heart of God is the love of a Mother.”  And yet, motherhood, perhaps the most important job in the world, is arguably the least valued of jobs. What did Theodore Roosevelt say? “The good mother…the wise mother…is more important to the community than the ablest man; her career is more worthy of honor and more useful to the community than the career of any man, no matter how successful.”

Thank God for your mother. If you cannot thank God for your mother, thank God for a woman who acted like the mother you wish you would have had. And, if your mother is still living, write her a letter and tell her how much she means to you. She’s worth it. 

The Art of Listening--a sacrifice of ego

Has this ever happened to you? You bump into an acquaintance. The person is likable. Good heart. Generous. But he or she can’t listen worth a darn. The conversation with your acquaintance involved nothing except your acquaintance talking about him or herself. Even after he or she asked a question of you, and you began to answer, he or she interjected for 10 minutes. You never finished answering the question originally asked.

Ernest Hemingway was correct when he remarked, “I have learned a great deal from listening carefully. Most people never listen.”

There are few spiritual practices more important than listening. Imagine what would have become of the ancient Hebrews had Moses not taken time to listen to the Lord? As the New Testament book of James declares, “You should be quick to listen and slow to speak.”

I’m beginning to think that listening is out of vogue. Rarely does one meet anyone who is keener to listen than speak. As a pastor-theologian, I wonder: If we are not quick to listen to other human beings, can we listen to God?

The 20th century Indian philosopher, Jiddu Krishnamurti, wrote: “When you are listening to somebody completely, attentively, then you are listening not only to the words, but also to the feeling of what is being conveyed, to the whole of it, not part of it.”

It’s easy to pretend to listen to someone. You can daydream about fishing or surfing or what you will have for lunch. You can nod your head and, from time to time, say, “Uh-huh,” all the while not paying much attention to the person who is speaking. I know this because I have done it.

I am guilty of not always being the best listener to my wife, son, friends and parishioners. It’s true what Steven Covey wrote in his “The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People”: “Most people do not listen with the intent to understand; they listen with the intent to reply.”

The lack of listening is, at its heart, a moral issue. A lack of listening implies a degree of selfishness — even a sense of superiority. If I am more ready to reply than to listen, it suggests that what the other person has to say is not as important as what I have to say. This disregard for listening may indicate that I imagine myself superior to the one I am supposed to be listening to. Either way, such behavior is self-centered. Listening, real listening, requires a sacrifice of ego.

The next time you are engaged in a conversation, try to listen more than you speak. Use your ears more than your mouth. Sacrifice your need to speak, because what you have to say is probably no more important than what you ought to be listening to.

Doubt is the whetstone of faith

Philosophy, art and poetry have always welcomed doubters. Shakespeare, the bestselling poet of all time wrote, “Modest doubt is called the beacon of the wise.” Unlike philosophy, art and poetry, however, religion is not always comfortable with doubt. In the Christian tradition, folks are often weary of doubt—and doubters.

One of the most notorious religious doubters was a disciple of Jesus named Thomas. In the Christian New Testament book of John, Thomas declares to his buddies (who have recently seen the resurrected Jesus), “Unless I see… I will not believe.” One week later Jesus appeared to Thomas. In most English translations, Jesus says to him (rather dryly, I imagine), “Do not doubt, but believe.”

On April 20th, Christians will celebrate the resurrection of Jesus. Prior to that holy day, I would like to try and set the record straight. I want to clear Thomas’ name. I want to clarify and redeem that odious title “Doubting Thomas,” which is an inaccurate translation of the original Greek text.

In the original Greek of the phrase I quoted above, Jesus does not say, “Do not doubt, but believe.” A more accurate translation is “Don’t become unfaithful, but faithful.” The difference between doubt and unfaithfulness is important, because one can have doubts, but still be faithful.

Doubt, by definition, presumes some level of belief, for you cannot doubt that which you do not, at some level, believe. You must believe a part of something in order to doubt another part of the same thing. The issue for Jesus with Thomas, according to the original language of the text, is not that he might have doubts about the resurrection, but that he might lose his faith in the God of the resurrection.

You may wonder if I have gone off the deep end. Why else get so nit-picky about a couple of words?

The choice of words makes all the difference, and here’s why. My experience suggests that religious faith is a two-sided coin. On one side is belief. On the other side is doubt. A living faith has aspects of doubt and belief. It’s like Khalil Gibran, the third bestselling poet of all time declared, “Doubt is a pain too lonely to know that faith is his twin brother.”

Were it not for doubt, which is nothing more than curiosity or inquisitiveness, we would not grow in faith. Like a knife in need of sharpening, faith needs a whetstone to hone its edge. Doubt is the whetstone of faith.

Doubt is an intellectual gift from God. Doubt is not to be feared, but embraced, for God is greater than doubt. Indeed, God uses our doubts to lead us deeper into the mystery of our faith. And if you don’t believe me, just ask Thomas.

Going to Hell

Not long ago I was leaving my classroom at Flagler College where I teach a course on world religions. On the sidewalk I passed two young men holding inflammatory religious signs and speaking loudly at students.

The young men with signs were yelling threats of hell at students. When I tried to speak kindly to one of the young men, he rebuffed me. When I asked if we might speak privately about his method of spreading the good news of Jesus, he shouted at me, pointed a finger, and then promptly condemned me to hell.

I guess the young man had not read the latest news. A recent poll released by the Pew Forum on Religion and Public Life shows that condemning nonbelievers to burn in hell for eternity is not an effective means to convert them. The study interviewed more than 10,000 participants by phone and found that of 2,342 professed non-believers who were told they would suffer the fires of hell for their disbelief, not a single one converted to believing in God.

Hell should never be wielded like a club by religious folk. Who is going to hell, if indeed anyone is going to hell, and for what, is God’s business. It is certainly not the business of young men in suits and ties to judge college students and offer up condemnation for an array of imagined sins.

The Greek New Testament concept of hell originally referred to a garbage-dump outside of Jerusalem where fire continuously burned trash. The Greek word, Ghenna, does not appear very many times in the New Testament. In one text, hell is described as the punishment for calling a sister or brother “fool (Matthew 5:22)” and in another text hell is offered as the punishment for despising of “little ones,” i.e., “outcasts” (Matthew 18:9). Typically, when hell (Ghenna) is spoken of, it connotes generalities and not behavioral specifics.

All of this is to say that any reading of the Bible that focuses on the fear of hell as a means for converting the unchurched or dechurched is a poor tool for evangelism. But such attempts at evangelism do a fantastic job engendering negative stereotypes of Christians.

So, if you happen to be the type of Christian who points your finger at people and then beats them over the head with threats of hell, you may want to examine how many fingers are pointing back at yourself. You may also want to recall the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount: “Not everyone who says to me ‘Lord, Lord’ will enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”

Babble

It’s my judgment that too many people, too many businesses, too many politicians, and too many talk-news programs speak without thinking. The 19th century English newspaper publisher Sir William Benham had it right when he remarked, “Speaking without thinking is like shooting without aiming.” As a man who enjoys shooting, I will tell you this: if you do not aim you are aimless. And to be aimless with a gun carries the propensity for death. Whether this metaphor aptly carries over to politics, religion, business, and civil society, I cannot say.

St. Ambrose, a fourth century Christian, once said, “It is easier to look wise than talk wisely.” My gut tells me there are a lot of people who hope to look wise but are not talking wisely. Talking wisely has become the exception to the rule in public discourse. And why is talking wisely on the decline? Because talking too much is on the rise. To paraphrase Shakespeare, people of few words are the wisest of people.

To be wise and to be a windbag are categorical opposites. Like oil and water. One cannot be a babbler and a sage. To talk wisely is, according to Buddhism, to abstain from idle talk and gossip, along with lies and deception.

The reason that wisdom is rarely seen among those who profusely talk is because wisdom journeys with listening. To listen is to hear another person’s ideas and needs. But in order to listen one must be silent. And silence, these days, rarely gets to speak.

Become a Hero

In the New Testament book of Acts Jesus is reported to have spoken these words: “It is more blessed to give than to receive.” Jesus understood that to sacrifice self-indulgent desires, for the sake of someone else, brings happiness.

Christianity is not the only world religion that stresses the significance of giving.  Every major world religion stresses the importance of charity. In the Qur’an we read, “True piety is this…to give of one’s substance, however cherished, to kinsmen, and orphans, the needy, the traveler, beggars, and to ransom the slave…” And from the Hindu Vedas: “The wealthier person should give unto the needy.”

Even though Americans give more than citizens of any other country, there is something surprising in those numbers. According to Forbes, “While the wealthiest citizens give the most in sheer dollar amounts—it’s in fact low-income employed Americans who give the highest portion of their income, or 4.5%.”

 It seems that the less money one has the more one is willing to part with one’s money. By why is this? Why do the wealthier among us give a smaller portion of their income to charity? What is it about having less that equals giving more? My experience suggests that when we have less we more fully realize our dependency upon God. I'm not, however, suggesting that we give away retirement accounts or the kid’s college fund, but there is wisdom in the idea of sacrificial giving.

I remember a Hebrew professor in seminary who once told my class, “Show me your checkbook or credit card statement and I will show you your faith.” Or, in the words of Jesus, “Where your treasure is there your heart will be also.” The habit of our giving is symbolic of our faith—or lack thereof.

There is a story about a man packing a shipment of food for the poor people of Appalachia. He was separating beans from powdered milk, and canned vegetables from canned meats. Reaching into a box filled with various cans, he pulled out a little brown paper sack. Apparently one of the pupils had brought something different from the items on the suggested list. Out of the paper bag fell a peanut butter sandwich, an apple, and a cookie. Crayoned in large letters was a little girl's name, "Christy Room 104.” She had given up her lunch for some hungry person that she had never met.
The little girl in the story was a hero. It’s never too late to champion a cause greater than yourself. It’s never too late to become a hero in some else’s life.

So dig deep into your pockets. Demonstrate your faith in God. Give on a regular basis. Sacrifice for a cause bigger than your own self-indulgent desires. Do this and you will discover that giving is more blessed than receiving.  

Explore, Dream, Discover

My maternal grandmother once lamented that our family, having arrived in St. Augustine in 1832, did not purchase miles of beach-front property. “Such a missed opportunity,” she said. All of us, I imagine, can relate to missed opportunities. All of us can relate to standing on the sidelines only to regret our inaction at a later point.

Robert Fulton, an artist and engineer, was responsible in the early 1800s for putting sailing ships out of business. He made the steamboat a standard on the open seas. It is said that he presented his idea to Napoleon. After a few minutes of this presentation, Napoleon is reported to have said, “What, sir? You would make a ship sail against the wind and currents by lighting a bonfire under her decks? I pray you excuse me. I have no time to listen to such nonsense.”

As a pastor, I am privy to stories of regret from people who missed out on adventure only to later bemoan the botched opportunity. The lost opportunities seem to always have a common question at their core: “Why didn’t I take the chance?”

An Arabian proverb given to me by a Rotarian friend is true: “Four things do not come back: the spoken word, the sped arrow, the past life, and the neglected opportunity.” All of us know that fumbled opportunities do not come back. Some of us live our lives lamenting a chance never taken. We look back upon something that we wish we would have done, but out of fear we played it safe. Perhaps we should all take advice from the Jewish Talmud, “Act while you can: while you have the chance, the means, and the strength.”

My experience suggests that we often regret with great pathos those things that we did not do but wished we had done. For example, a common regret — missed opportunity — is not traveling when you have the health to travel. After all, as the sun sets upon our lives we have but memories; these memories are often colored by seized opportunities or regrets of inaction.

It is fear that oftentimes keeps us from taking a chance. Fear of what might happen. Fear of the unknown. Fear of potential consequences. But if we exist too much by the dictates of fear we will live on the periphery of life. Fear governs strictly and is antithetical to a life well lived.

As each year passes into the next, the more convinced I become that Mark Twain was correct when he observed: “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

Failure

If there is one thing that is endemic to humanity, it is failure. Failure is universal among us. There are more or less successful people; but all people have endured failure.

Failure may happen in politics, morality, business or academics. Failure may happen in relationships or it may happen with one’s own integrity. Regardless, no one lives without tasting the fruit of failure, which can be bitter.

According to the late psychologist B.F. Skinner, “A failure is not always a mistake; it may simply be the best one can do under the circumstances. The real mistake is to stop trying.” I suppose we have all heard something along these lines from parents, teachers, friends, or clergy. “Don’t give up!” they say. So we push forward trusting that, as someone once said, “Our best successes often come after our greatest disappointments.”

Sometimes our highest hopes are destroyed so that we can be prepared for better things. The failure of the caterpillar is the birth of the butterfly. The passing of the bud is the blooming of the rose. Our failures can be the door to a new success. As the Yogi, Paramahansa Yogananda, wrote, “The season of failure is the best time for sowing the seeds of success.

The name of John James Audubon is forever associated with the magnificent paintings he made of the birds of North America. No one else has so accurately painted the birds and the natural environment in which they were found. But his success as an artist might not have happened had he not gone bankrupt in business. In 1808, he opened a store in Louisville, Ky. It was after he went bankrupt in 1819 that he began traveling and painting birds. Audubon’s failure in business was his success in visual art.

C.S. Lewis noted that “Failures are finger posts on the road to achievement,” but this is not always the case. Often people give up after one or two attempts at something in which they have failed. But success often comes after multiple failed attempts at an endeavor. As Thomas Edison remarked about the continual problems related to his invention of the light bulb: “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.”

It’s usually assumed Handel’s “Messiah” was written at the pinnacle of his success. But that is not the case. The composition of the “Messiah” was written after Handel suffered a stroke. It was written while Handel suffered through a particularly desperate night of despair over his failure as a musician. Upon waking, Handel unleashed his creative genius in a musical score that continues to inspire us generations later.

It may be that failure is universal among us. But so, too, is success. The trick, which really is no trick at all, is dogged persistence. For success rarely comes to one who easily accepts failure as the final word.

The Placement of Reverence

Have you ever wondered what might help you lead a more joyous and meaningful life?

Plato once wrote that parents should not teach their children how to become rich—but how to become reverent. Try as I might, however, my nine-year-old son has not yet developed an appropriate sense of reverence. Ant hills are for kicking. Lizards are targets for a BB gun.                 

Adults, however, are not much better at being appropriately reverent than nine-year-old boys. Just yesterday I heard an adult speak pejoratively of a cobweb in her kitchen but reverently of the TV show, “Hell’s Kitchen.” Why is it that we often revere the fantastically farcical but shun the incredibly sublime? Maybe I’m crazy, but the sublimity and grace of a cobweb deserves more reverence than a caustic TV personality.

I have a friend who does not watch pro sports or other popular entertainment. My friend tells me that he can’t stand the lavish attention that is given to entertainers and athletes. When I asked him about his “stick-in the-mud” attitude, he, in turn, asked me if I thought pop culture icons deserved their hero-like status and huge salaries. I confessed that whether or not pop icons deserved their salaries is beyond my ability to determine. But the reverence that we heap upon cultural icons is not beyond my ability to critique. Our reverence for entertainers and athletes is misplaced and out of proportion to their value to society (consider the comparable amount of reverence that is given to teachers, nurses, and those who serve us in restaurants).

The word reverence comes from the Latin word, reverentia, which means “to respect greatly.” As I survey American pop culture, I find that we have a lot of reverence. But we often have reverence for the wrong things and wrong people. Perhaps that is one reason why meaning and joy are, according to polls I’ve read, in short supply. Misplaced reverence can create an existential void.   

According to the late theologian and physician, Albert Schweitzer, “By having a reverence for life, we enter into a spiritual relation with the world. By practicing reverence for life we become good, deep, and alive.” Maybe that’s why so many people I know do not seem deep and alive. Maybe that’s why our popular culture, with its vicarious living through sports heroes and reality TV, is largely shallow and depressive.

On the other hand, appropriately placed reverence puts us in touch with the holy of this world. And when we are in touch with the holy of this world, we are, I believe, in touch with The Being that creates the holy of this world. And to be in touch with The Being is, according to statistics, to offer some measure of meaning and joy.

So go ahead and stare at a cobweb in your kitchen. Stop staring at your TV. You might just find meaning and joy are not in such short supply.

Prayer

Martin Luther said prayer should resemble a dog’s appetite. As Luther tells it, he was watching his dog who had a piece of meat. Luther said, “If I could only pray the way this dog watches meat. All his thoughts are focused on the piece of meat. Other than the meat, he has no thought.”                                                                     

I will leave it to you to decide whether or not this is a helpful image for the life of prayer. Myself, I have found another, but complimentary, image.                       

I remember watching a beggar in Damascus, Syria. The woman, before shopkeepers shoed her away, kept asking everyone in our travel group for help; she kept seeking assistance; she persisted in knocking on the door of our hearts. And, in the end, someone in the group bought her food.                                                     

The image of a persistent beggar is a good image for the prayer life. To become a beggar before God admits the reality of the human condition. We are frail creatures—all of us in need. To stand as a beggar before God is an act of faith. We beg for what we need, trusting in God to act on our behalf.                           
But to approach God like a beggar does not mean that all of our prayers will be answered. After all, God is not Santa Claus or a cosmic bellboy. And we forget that, on occasion, God may simply say “No” to our prayers, just as we might say no to a beggar on the street. But in all of our asking, seeking, and knocking, God has our best interest at heart. God is our heavenly, loving parent.                                    
But let’s be honest: most of us do not have a great prayer life. We are not the best at asking, seeking, and knocking. And we probably do less begging from God and more bargaining. Our prayer lives are probably not all they could be.            

When we pray, our minds wander—we struggle to focus on God like a dog focuses upon meat. If our cells phone rings or a text comes through we have a short debate with ourselves about whether we should check the message. If we’re praying with other people, we may wonder silently to ourselves, “I wonder how I sound to these people?”                                                            

Prayer is, of course, personal, though it is not entirely private. Prayer must be discovered and understood on our own terms. People can help us with prayer. People can encourage us to pray. People can pray for us and with us.                                    

But, ultimately, prayer is a personal practice. The way we speak to God, the way we seek God’s will, the way we persevere with God comes down to who we are—and who we want to be.  Just as we all have different ways of relating with family and friends, so all of us have different ways of relating to God.                                             

I don’t know about you, but the older I become the more I look back over my life and see a creative power at work. Looking back I discover that this power, God, provided when I asked, provided when I searched, and answered when I knocked. And I have discovered that when God seemed not to provide—well, God was providing in a different, more mysterious way.

Overstretched and Overbooked

Are you too busy to notice that you’re too busy? Are you so busy that you barely have time to tell your friends that you don’t have time to talk to them? “  

 In his very famous book, Walden, Henry David Thoreau wrote, “It is not enough to be busy. So are the ants. The question is: What are we busy about?”                    

 What are you busy about?

 Psychiatrist Edward Howell wrote a book called, Crazy Busy: overstretched, overbooked, and about to snap. In the book Dr. Howell tells a story of how he came to see that his life had gotten out of control and way too busy.                     

Dr. Howell was on vacation where he had no cell phone reception. In the house was a rotary phone—some of you remember those dinosaurs, the phones that you had to turn the dial. One day, using the rotary phone got him frustrated to the point of anger—simply because he had to take time to let the dial come back to start.                                      

His frustration at the phone was a wakeup call, no pun intended. He writes, “What a fool I had become. I had become a busy man in a hurry even when I had no need to be a busy man in a hurry.”                                 

Knowing when not to be busy can be difficult. Many of us are much better at being busy than being still. Many of us are better at running from one thing to the next—rather than slowing down. At the very least, learning to slow down and pay attention to what matters most is a prerequisite to living a God-filled life. 

 Are you too busy? And what are you busy about? Has God gotten pushed to the back seat? We need to take a close look at our lives. Evaluate priorities. Evaluate where we spend our time.     

 We all have certain responsibilities that cannot be shirked. We all have certain commitments that we must keep. The question for us becomes at what point do we begin saying “no” to extraneous obligations? All of us, I suspect, want a full and meaningful life. But the danger is when we step over an invisible line that separates a meaningful life from a life that is too busy—a life that cannot make time for being with God. A life that has lost perspective.

 “It is not enough to be busy, so are the ants.” The question is: What are we busy about?”                           

      

Living with Regrets

The philosopher Rene Descartes famously wrote, “I think therefore I am.” But, perhaps, we might also say: I regret, therefore I am. Even God, according to the Hebrew Bible, lived with regrets, the most famous (but not the only time God regrets something) being, “And the Lord regretted that he had made humanity.” (Genesis 6:6)

There are different types of regret. There is the regret of commission and the regret of omission. The former type of regret stems from hurting something, either emotionally or physically. The latter type of regret is born from not seizing an opportunity.

Sometime back a hospice worker named Bonnie Ware wrote an interesting article called the “Top Five Regrets of the Dying.” Those regrets are:
1. I wish I’d had the courage to live a life true to myself, not the life others expected of me.
2. I wish I hadn’t worked so hard.
3. I wish I’d had the courage to express my feelings.
4. I wish I’d stayed in touch with my friends.
5. I wish I’d let myself be happier.

If you read the regrets closely, you noticed that only one of the regrets, number 2, is a regret of commission. The remaining four are regrets of omission. Or, in other words, the regrets of the dying have more do with what they didn’t do than what they did do.
It is possible to re-word the 5 regrets to read as either regrets of commission or omission. Be that as it may, the above list was authored by dying people. And dying people, from my personal experience, don’t mince words. They mean what they say and say what they mean. When death is imminent, life takes on linguistic clarity.

All of us have regrets—more or less. One significant regret that I have is not being more patient with my son during the first four years of his life. At that time I was wrapped up in doctoral work. The stress of my studies accompanied with working full time in a church often left me with little patience.
In most instances, life allows u-turns. In all instances, God allows u-turns. The Quran, like the New Testament, suggests that when regret becomes repentance God, like a loving parent, runs out to meet the repentant one.

While we can never erase painful moments of our past, we can amend our lives, with the help of God’s grace, so the future looks less like the past and more like the life of our dreams.
Mark Twain once quipped, “Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.”

So I ask you, dear reader: How might you change your life so that when your dying moment arrives your regrets are fewer than they might have been?

Your Ordinary Everyday Life

Take your everyday, ordinary life and place it before God. God will take your ordinary life and use it for incredible purposes.                                                          

It is in the ordinary and mundane stuff of life that we are called to live as Christ followers, loving God, neighbor and self. It is in the ordinary routines of our lives where God will most often use us as instruments of grace.  

The spiritual writer Julie Porter wrote, “Much work that isn't interesting or fun is vital to human life and community, and the ones who perform it serve as the hands of God...”        

In your daily life, how might you become the hands of God to your family and friends and strangers? How might you serve other people in the mundane routines of daily life?                                                                
                                                  

It’s strange but true to say that in the mundane things of life it is most difficult to be faithful, loving, hopeful, and generous. Our Christian task, however, is to be heroes and heroines of grace when life is most tedious, hum-drum, and commonplace.     

Each day presents us with simple possibilities to serve God. Helping a neighbor or volunteering at a school. Helping a stranger with $10 worth of gas. Listening to a grieving co-worker or volunteering at the COA, teaching Sunday school or buying extra food at the grocery to give to the food pantry.              

In one of the church’s I served there was a homebound widow by the name of Jo. Though homebound, Jo said that she had found a way for God to use her. Every week Nellie sent a hand written card to everyone in the church who was sick, homebound, or grieving.                                                                                          

You might think, “Well, it’s just a card”—but you’d be wrong. Over the years, Jo’s cards were seen by those who received them as God’s grace made visible. Jo’s old, shaky hands became God’s hands to the hurting and lonely.                      

Never think for one moment that God cannot use you as a vehicle of grace. Take your everyday, ordinary life and place it before God. And God will take your ordinary life and use it for incredible purposes.

The Song and Dance of God

William Wallace, was a Scottish common man who fought for his country's freedom in the 13th century. Wallace led an uprising against the English King, Edward the Longshanks, who wanted the crown of Scotland for himself.
In the end, Wallace was martyred for the casue of freedom.                                                                                                                                                        

In his final moments of life, as he lay on the executioner's bench, Wallace was tortured. He could have ended the torment by saying the word “Peace,” indicating his support of the king. Instead, Wallace yelled, “Freedom!”                        

God is a God of freedom. In many ways, freedom is the song and dance of God. In many ways, freedom is the mantra of the Bible. Over and over God seems to yell “Freedom!” to the oppressed, enslaved, and marginalized.                                                                         

When the Israelites were slaves in Egypt, God declares, “'I am the LORD, and I will free you from the Egyptians and deliver you from slavery.” In the Bible, God is intimately concerned with freedom. When God’s love is made flesh in Jesus, the first sermon Jesus preaches is taken from the book of Isaiah: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon to me to…to proclaim release to the captives…and to let the oppressed go free.”  This message of freedom is continued in the ministry of St. Paul. When writing to the church in Galatia, Paul tells them, “For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery.”                                     

What has you enslaved? Political ideologies? Religion? Shopping? Fear? Alcohol?                                                           

Gossip

Gossip sells — just take a look at the news-rags that accost you leaving the grocery store. Pure gossip. As someone in my Sunday School class noted, we have an entire industry built upon gossip. And we eat it up. It’s like the novelist Joseph Conrad wrote, “Gossip is what no one claims to like, but everyone enjoys.”

In a nation that reports to be highly spiritual, we fail when it comes to one of the more simple tests of virtue. Erma Bombeck had it right: “Some say our national pastime is baseball. Not me. It’s gossip.” A spirituality that is compatible with gossip is like saying motor oil is compatible with water. The two simply don’t mix. The New Testament book of James puts it plainly: “If people think they are religious and do not bridle their tongues but deceive their hearts, their religion is worthless.”

Two weeks ago I went to Gypsy Cab for lunch (I love their Bahamian chowder). It was crowded and, since I was alone, I sat at the bar where, I discovered, an acquaintance of mine was also eating. He finished his meal before me and returned to work. After he left, I overheard a man at the other end of the bar saying unkind things about my acquaintance, which may have been true — but this is beside the point.

The man was gossiping. He was trying to use information to injure and slight my acquaintance. Each word was a knife in the back of the man’s reputation. I felt caught between a rock and a hard place. Do I say something to the man — or not? I was, after all, eavesdropping. I decided not to say anything — and this I regret.

All of the great world religions underscore the importance of not gossiping. The Buddha explained that right speech is necessary for a sound morality. He stated that people should abstain from slanderous speech and not use words maliciously against others. A fundamental of Hindu and Yogic ethics is the practice of satya: conscious consideration of what you say, how you say it, and how it affects others. And Judaism, in the book of Leviticus says, “You shall not go around as slanderer among your people.”

We have all gossiped. We have all listened to gossip. But at what price? Gossip and slander eat away at our goodness—and perhaps even our health. It is suggested that Jesus, in the Gospel of Matthew, goes so far as to say that people will be held accountable for every careless word they speak.

What ought the spiritual response to gossip be? How should the religious/spiritual man or woman respond to gossip? We must learn to carefully choose our words when talking about people. And we must summon our courage to stop gossip when we hear gossip. After all, we might just save our own reputations.

Den of Thieves

I recently found myself in the Atlanta airport with my wife and son. We were eating in one of the more popular sandwich shops located in the sprawling concourse. We sat down and I overheard two employees talking about a recent event that had caused a stir at the restaurant.

It seems that a physician accidentally left a briefcase in the eatery the week before and the briefcase, which wasn’t locked, harbored the modern equivalent to a pirate’s trove.

The conversation between the fast food employees went like this:

“You hear about the briefcase that was left here last week?”

“Yeah. I heard. And some fool turned the thing in. You believe that?”

“That was me, I woulda kept that thing!”

“Hell yeah. Thing had 70 Ben Franklins in it!”

I’d kept that thing. Got me some new clothes.”

“Yeah, man. The fool turned the thing in.”

“Crazy, man, crazy.”

“Better is a poor person who walks in his integrity than one who is crooked,” says the book of Proverbs. Is this ancient opinion debatable? It must be or we would not see — on such a vast scale that defies race and class — fraud, stealing and embezzlement. And while I have told my share of “white” lies, and stolen a lollipop at 12 years of age to impress the wrong crowd, I do believe there is a social consequence when we are less than truthful.

Shakespeare said, “No legacy is so rich as honesty.” If this is true, why would two gainfully employed men talk about keeping $70,000 dollars that does not belong to them? I grew up hearing Benjamin Franklin’s pithy saying, “Honesty is the best policy,” which is akin to a religious sentiment found in the Q’uran: “God will reward honest people for their honesty.” I can’t help but wonder, however, if we no longer hold the conviction expressed by Franklin or believe in the idea that God rewards people for doing what is right, especially when doing wrong is more profitable.

Though Benjamin Franklin coined his phrase 200 years ago, I am not naive enough to believe that people were, at an earlier time, more humane, honest and virtuous. The ancient commandment, “Thou shalt not steal,” proves as much.

Is it me or does dishonesty appear to be growing in every strata of our nation? From Washington to Tallahassee, and from homes to schools, dishonesty, it seems, is the new best policy. I am convinced that we parents must do a better job of instilling honesty in our children. Clergy must do a better job. Our elected officials must do a better job. Corporate leaders must do better job. We must try to model honesty. For a nation, community, religious organization—or corporation that does not stridently condemn dishonesty is nothing but a den of thieves; the treasure they — we — plunder is truth. And, as someone once remarked, “There is no worse theft than that of truth.”