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.”

The Power of Weakness

            I saw something in the Greek of 2 Corinthians 12:9 that struck me. The Greek of verse 9 hit me in a whole new way. In verse 9, Paul writes, “The Lord said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."

I suppose the word ‘weakness’ is what really caught my attention. The word in Greek has the connotation of powerlessness, illness, handicap, helplessness—you get the point. And don’t you think that it is striking that Paul celebrates his weakness, his powerlessness?  

I mean, can you imagine doing something like this this? Can you imagine celebrating your incapacity, your physical limitations? Celebrating your powerlessness, your weaknesses? Is Paul crazy? Can you imagine rejoicing in your disease, your sickness, depression or inadequacy? Celebrating powerlessness seems so contrary to being…to being…human. And especially contrary to being American.

I can’t think of one successful Hollywood action film that celebrates weakness. I mean, can you imagine Bruce Willis or Matt Damon boasting about being powerless? No way. Can you imagine doing a status update on Facebook that goes something like this: “Hunter Camp… rejoices in his aching left knee that keeps him from winning a foot race against his son.”                         

No way. We Americans celebrate strength—we love the strong and powerful; as a culture, we have little abiding sympathy for the weak and powerless. In American culture, just like the ancient Greco-Roman culture, power is not made perfect in weakness.                              

When Paul wrote, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness," Paul was sending a counter cultural message. The church in Corinth would have been shocked to hear Paul boast about his limitations. And yet, something in my experience suggests that Paul may be right. Strength can be found in powerlessness. God’s kindness and grace can become our muscles when the circumstances in life beat us down.      

On Tuesday, April 3 of 2010 I was diagnosed with a large tumor in my left deltoid. The tumor was very deep. It was wrapped around my humerus. My doctors at the Mayo Clinic thought the tumor, because of the depth and position, was malignant. In fact, one radiologist, a friend, confided in me and said, “It doesn’t look good, Hunter.”

After surgery and spending the night at Mayo, I was discharged with a sling and a long incision down my shoulder. My instructions were to rest, do physical therapy, and wait for the pathology, which is a miracle story for another day.  

Anyhow, the Sunday after my surgery I decided I was fit enough to lead worship and help serve Communion. With one hand I held the chalice as people came forward. As my parishioners dipped their wafer into the cup they looked at me with great love and gentleness. They exuded God’s kindness.      

It was during that Holy Communion that I came to understand Paul’s words: “The Lord said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."

In the faces of those people, young and old, I came to see the all sufficient benevolence of God—the God we know in Jesus Christ. I came to see that suffering can be a crucible for personal-transformation. I came to see that during the struggles of life, in the times of suffering, this is where we often encounter God’s presence. For when we are weak God’s strength becomes evident.    

Now, I don’t have any plans to boast about my many personal experiences of powerlessness. But this I will say, and I will say it with all the conviction and confidence in the world: through God’s power, weakness and powerlessness can become strength. And this power of God’s is worth boasting about.