Have we ever had the opportunity to explore the true differences between happiness and joy? And, the kind of role each does or can play in our lives, whether in good times or bad?

I’ve spent a lot of time in reflection on this and not just since retiring. In fact, I used to think about it when driving to and from work and during those crazy hectic days. I used to think about it when strolling across campus, surrounded by thousands of teenagers and hundreds of adults, living lives individually and in community. As I thought about it and gained new experience, the differences became much more clear and I find more and more moments that can only be described as joyful … joy filled. So, where does that come from and what does it have to do with happiness?

Of course, our nation formally began via the Declaration of Independence, wherein the pursuit of happiness was one of three unalienable rights endowed by our Creator. In other words, life, liberty, and happiness are the most important principles of our society and are gifts we should protect and deeply value. Ok, enough of being a history teacher.

Fast forward to this young 21st century and not the time of the Eurocentric Enlightenment. I actually do believe that our culture is built around the pursuit of happiness as a foundational principle. Don’t worry, be happy! Grab what we can get because the stuff will make us happy. I have nothing against happiness and in fact like to be happy, rather than sad. But, not at the expense of what’s real and lasting and significant.

I’m particularly displeased that a portion of a rather important source of my life decided to shear off and disrupt things. I’m not pleased that we had to cut our anticipated trip to the Colorado Rockies short or that I may not be able to do some other things in the short run that I like and look forward to. But, do those things make me happy or it something else?

Can the distinction between happiness and joy run something like this: Happiness is usually tied to some thing, whether in the possession of or in a way that disappears fairly shortly afterwards. Maybe I don’t have that exactly right. On the other hand, joy is a consuming thing that fills us not with a momentary soft good feeling but cuts deeply into us and can even abide strongly in our memory. Surely, all of us have experienced joy, although some may not as much anymore. Is there any greater joy than love? Isn’t joy connected to love in some way? Isn’t it a window into something permanent that says I belong in this moment, in this place and I can’t imagine being anywhere else right now?

Isn’t one of the distinctions that we pursue happiness but joy just arrives, unbidden, and with a force that can range from subtly warm to something that knocks us back or down? That takes our breath away?

Isn’t the pursuit of happiness an effort to find fulfillment in things that don’t last? Isn’t joy about the the recognition that the things that last are available if we surrender that pursuit?

My/our faith is one that recognizes the remarkable connection between love, grace, hope and joy. I did not understand this all that well in the first five decades of my life, although I had many glimpses and had experienced all of these things to a degree. In fact, a life lived through a lens of these four things is a life that flourishes, regardless of the circumstances.

My friend, Sally, posted a reply yesterday to my reflections (I guess that’s something you can do with a blog … I’m not on Facebook and have never really participated in a blog!) where she remarked on the fact that the words “scared” and “sacred” are so close. I get her point. If hope is the opposite of anxious or fearful, sacred spaces truly mitigate the things that can make us afraid.

God has gifted me with being ok being quiet and contemplative, to be contrasted with the times that I burst forth with tons of energy. I believe that fact has allowed me to surrender some strivings that are ubiquitous these days (not all!) and be available to joy. I believe that it’s much more difficult for fear and anxiety to secure a firm foothold if our days are punctuated by moments of joy.

Put bluntly, I believe joy is a gift from God and evidence of his role in our life. I believe that the pursuit of happiness can be a deterrent to that gift and that we sacrifice the opportunity to be in those sacred places too often.  I think it was in 2009 that I finally experienced the true power of joy. It changed me. As some of you know, I thought my heart would burst and it was deeply painful as a bursting heart inevitably is! I didn’t know if I could breathe but I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. The moment, surrounded by (100?) loving people acting out of grace, gave way to a pure vision of heaven and I knew that deep was calling out to deep, in abiding love. Every moment of joy since then, even the small ones like having breakfast or lunch with a close friend, sharing life together in a way that is not common, especially for men, is connected to that grand moment. Full breaths. Beautiful music, instrumental and vocal. Hiking through forests where Diane and I are about the only ones around. Or, hiking or snowshoeing high in the alpine with close friends. Or, early moments with Diane in the morning, just sipping coffee, chatting about this and that and ushering in a new day. Or the embrace of one of my sons. Or deep in prayer where prayer is much more than asking but about listening and, perhaps, even hearing. Or participating in helping to renew the spirits of others, especially if they’ve been wounded. I could go on for hours. What are your joys?

Yes, the writing of this is a kind of therapy for me but I pray ahead of time and ask God what he’d like me to share that can touch lives and help others flourish as I have. Then, the fingers sort of dance quickly across the keys of the laptop.

Rest assured, dear friends, that Diane and I are not afraid and we rejoice each day. We can’t begin to account for all of you and our relationships with you other than to see it as miraculous and to receive it as gift. This little thing going on upstairs in my own “God’s Country” has its own story but the bigger story is eternal.

“Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer.” Romans 12:12

Amen.

Can anyone overestimate the power behind words of encouragement and affirmation? It seems so simple but how much of our time spent in daily interaction with others is structured around that knowledge?  And, let’s cull out the kind of hollow encouragement our culture awards to celebrities and the powerful. Much of that is simply idolatry and sycophancy. No, this is about an openness to the life of another in such a way that we can be aware of their challenges, however small or large, and be at least a momentary light in their journey. I know that I am growing in this capacity (and some would say it’s already a gift for me) but I also have a long way ago. I just received a message late yesterday that I had overlooked someone’s pain and and they felt neglected. I could have a number of excuses why that was the case but I was convicted and need to pay attention to that today.

Thank you to all of you for your remarkable words of encouragement, affirmation, and affection. I don’t believe I’ve mentioned this but I find a sweet parallel between where this particular physical problem I’m having actually is and the relationships that are at the core of how we’re dealing with it. I shared before that the neurosurgeon said it resides in “God’s Country,” a jam-packed cluster of unbelievably complex networks of nerves and vessels. The power for the operating system, so to speak.  In the same way, we are designed to be connected with one another, each piece (person) uniquely able to provide sustenance to others. The more connected we are, while focused on those things that really matter, the more we flourish individually and as communities. I know of an elderly family member, once vibrant and highly successful, who long ago chose isolation over relationship. He has descended into a state that is truly tragic. I learned more about his condition late last night and will try to think of ways to help but it may be too late. I juxtapose his state with where I am, given all of you, and I am simply in awe. I wonder what each of us is going to do today to reach out in an encouraging way to someone who could probably use a boost? Salesperson? Child? Friend? Stranger? My friend, Ken, says to try to catch someone doing something good each day.

So, encouragement was on my heart early this morning. 3:30 and I are now very well acquainted! The other is significance.

We had the most delightful dinner and visit last night with our dear friends of thirty years. We have shared so much of our lives together and are intertwined in beautiful ways. Both of them have suffered huge physical setbacks and, although they are quite healthy today, need to conscientiously monitor their conditions. They do not take life lightly. They care deeply, with full hearts. We got to chatting about how, too often, friends and acquaintances gather and make a lot of small talk (not that small talk is bad by any means) but rarely spend time boring deeply into the things that matter. How often do we admit the things that truly trouble us or volunteer that we struggle not knowing or understanding things that are really meaningful? Anyway, our discussion flowed and included laughter and tears and even stepping out of comfort zones for a minute.

What is significant, anyway? I like to ask the question, to what do we ascribe ultimate meaning?  And, is it important to answer that question? And, if answered, how does that translate into the many ways I live my life?

For most of my life, I believed meaning was in the search for meaning. As an educator, I was intimately involved with the learning of my students, then in how to lead hundreds and even thousands of other educators in helping people learn. We had this maxed out adage called “life long learning.” It was this kind of grand objective around which all else was shaped. In other words, the goal of all education and all learning was to create learners.

Not bad on the surface. No one I respect wants to create a population of unintelligent, disinterested, uninformed adults. However, I grew into seeing a hollowness in this. If the process is around promoting the process, is that all there is?

What are we processing or progressing towards?  Equality? Freedom? Unlimited happiness?

Isn’t it true that when we face crises, especially existential ones, that we learn what is significant and where we place ultimate meaning? In a  wealthy culture where we’re able to mitigate many of the formerly powerful threats to our existence, we can more easily slough off responsibility to pay attention to these kinds of things.

In our couples’ small group, we spend a lot of time diving deeply into this. It reminds me of when Jack, Mike and I sat around our little duplexes in Del Mar while in college and wrestled with the grand questions. We were undoubtedly not the norm and I can’t say it never involved an adult beverage but I was remarkably enriched and became attached to what my dad remembered in his college days (1938-42) as bull sessions. These weren’t always debates but, rather, inquiries into what is important. Fast forward many decades and jobs and families and routines and pressures and how many of us have benefited from regular outlets for our grand hopes and deep anxieties?

I’ve learned to ask those two questions in professional settings as we try to get to what is really significant. What do you hope for and what are you anxious about?  Wow.

I need to be clear: Life is not necessarily just a constant plumbing of the depths. What wonder in simple relaxed interaction with others when we can just be and let go!

But, we need balance and I’ve grown so much in the past ten years, through interacting with many others who think deeply and care even more deeply.

We did this little exercise in our Monday morning men’s group (there have been anywhere from six to ten members over the past eight or nine years) a few years back. What do you want your epitaph to say? Of course, this is figurative because almost no one gets grave stones with epitaphs these days but that’s not the point. In other words, here lies fill in the blank, he/she blah blah. What is the significant thing about this former life we’d want to be known and remembered for?  Do you ever think about that? I do. And, I’ve changed.

Diane and I recently attended the memorial for the father of one of my very best and favorite high school students. In fact, her family basically adopted me and, later, Diane and I had more contact with Sally than any other of my thousands of students. Her dad was my doctor for awhile. The large Episcopal church downtown in San Diego was filled beyond capacity. Hundreds and hundreds came out and we all learned how Sally’s father had lived a life of deep service and care beyond what most of had an inkling of. Yes, he was a gifted physician and a devoted husband and father. But, he was described as one who had a remarkable capacity to just listen and be present to all he came into contact with. He cared deeply for each individual and sought to help them flourish in their life. We went out to dinner just before I retired and he gave me a beautiful little book about what is significant for someone living into life after “retiring.”  The good news for Diane and me is that we’d already begun talking about that before retiring and we’ve been trying to live by its principles.

I’m almost done. Let’s take it beyond epitaph and make it a eulogy. What would we hope would be described about us, should we die tomorrow, by those who know us best and are gathering in remembrance?  And, what lies behind the words being used that really reflect how we looked at the true meaning of our existence in this life?

As Tim Keller has said and we all know intuitively, each of us gives ultimate meaning to something or group of things. As Diane and I face this current challenge, we hope to stay centered on exactly that which gives us ultimate meaning and, therefore, creates significance for our lives. You all are a very special part of both of these things.

Finally, we are still awaiting insurance approval to the final specialist. It normally takes 7-10 days for this level. We have a good relationship with the executive assistant to my neurosurgeon doing her best to expedite things. The Tylenol around the clock is doing well. I still get tired much more quickly which is ironic given the exertion I was doing only three weeks ago. But, that may also be God’s way of getting me to submit and dedicate attention to healing.

I’m humbled by a lot of this. I sat down a few days ago to gather my thoughts in one place and almost as quickly, this whole blog thing came out. The humility is in knowing that I’m not enduring anything that many people I care deeply for have not also endured. From those (you know who you are), I have gained strength in so many ways. If anything I share resonates with you, please know that they are your words as much as they are mine. And, words are windows into the heart. Truly.

This promises to be a long one. No problem if you cut it short, feel drowsy or hit the delete button.

It was a long month ago that I had this thought. It wasn’t a new thought, actually, and I get them from time to time. Most of you know that I’ve been on quite a training regimen. For the first time in my life, I’ve felt completely healthy. Yes, I’m restricted in my activities due to the upper spinal thing but I was able to find outlets that I really enjoyed and found deeply fulfilling. And, of course, besides living as healthy a life as I could, I had this nice little goal of joining several friends and climbing one of our nation’s highest mountains in Colorado this August.

It was only about four years ago that we were wondering if I could ever travel to Idyllwild again (where Mary and Greg live), because of lung issues. And then that really kind and good doctor asked me to trust him and that we could bring my lungs to robust health in a year.  Oh, really!  As a lifelong asthmatic who has learned to cope with never really getting a full breath (or, at least not consistently), that was a tall order. But, I took him up on it and he was right! The last time I thanked him for changing my life, he said that meant more to him than I could know.

Of course, it was about twenty years ago when that very nasty disease struck me down and I faced partial blindness and probably worse, given the hole eaten from the frontal sinus into the brain cavity.

So, here was the thought last month as I reflected on the remarkable resiliency of my body and its ability to be healthy and perform as it was intended:

This is grace. This is a tremendous gift and I rejoice in it.  But, went the thought, I will not always have this. I’m 62 and not getting younger. Eventually it will erode.  Or, more bluntly and given my experience, I could lose it tomorrow. I remember saying to God, “God, I REALLY appreciate this gift and would REALLY like to have it continue. BUT, if it doesn’t, I want to thank you for this moment and I rejoice in it.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have included that last sentence. 🙂

The point is this: We are all on borrowed time.  (Perhaps I should name this blog, “Borrowed Time.”) Now, that may be a controversial thing to say. The world (a term I use to mean conventional wisdom, prevailing cultural opinion and all of that) says “I deserve.”  I deserve things that make me feel good, make me happy or successful. I worked hard so I deserve the fruits of my labor.  (That is a tricky one.) Or, I deserve God’s beneficence because I pray hard or, again, I work hard to do good things.

I look at it differently. I can never work hard enough to deserve the things that are important. No amount of work or trying will help me to love more deeply, care more fully, act more graciously. And what is more important than those things?

These are gifts and I treat them as “borrowed” because they do not come from me. As such, so is life and its many grand qualities. Part of the process right now is knowing that I’m the same person with the same joys and challenges as I was a month ago.  And, thankfully, I had a sense then that this could happen.  And, just as importantly … and this is a BIG deal: If not me, then someone I’m very close to. And, if not someone I’m very close to, then someone with whom I come into contact that very day.  And, how am I being present to all of that? Not, without help.

If you’re still with me, I’m finally getting to what was on my heart early this morning and on the drive back from my regular Monday morning men’s meeting.

I’ll get there in a roundabout way.

After returning home, I was on the telephone with two dear friends. One, my oldest friend from earliest childhood. The other, much more recently, a woman in our couple’s small group (there are seven couples active and we meet on Wednesday evenings to share life in all of its dimensions). Both had reached out in previous hours, sharing love and concern and wanting to get together. Both expressed pain, although in somewhat different terms. They opened their hearts and I was deeply touched. Because I’m a sap, the eyes got teary, but again, for joy that I have relationships with people like you who are reading this, who care and love.

The woman (I’m about as novice a blogger as you can get and don’t know the protocol about sharing some names and conversations), bless your heart! even asked how she could take the pain onto her. But, that’s what we do, isn’t it? We seek to take the pain from those we love.

This will continue being roundabout a little longer as I detour into an experience from about nine or ten years ago:

A close friend and professional mentor, someone who had helped make me the educational leader I became, had experienced the greatest grief. He lost his daughter to the terrible disease of anorexia. (I have another dear friend and member of our Monday morning group who is in that raw place of grappling with the same disease for his precious daughter.) We were at the church memorial service when my friend, who I knew extremely well and whom I cared for and about deeply, went to the podium to speak. He was never a man to just be stoical. He felt deeply and admitted weakness, although he was very bright, successful and good at what he did. Anyway, I instantly saw that he was unable to speak because of his agony and this prayer just leapt instantly into my head: “God, please let me take his pain and free him to honor his daughter.”

God responded without hesitation and I was hit physically with the fullness of my friend’s pain. It literally threw me back into the pew and I had trouble breathing. I reached for Diane’s hand. It was awful. I experienced a brutal and dark agony and it didn’t go away quickly. However, as hard as it was to be in that state, I saw, joyfully, that my friend was composed and proceeded to deliver a beautiful eulogy.  It was one of the most profound spiritual experiences of my life and confirmation of how God connects us in ways that are both inexplicably beautiful but also extremely challenging.

Ok, the roundabout is coming back.

I started today with the desire to comfort all those who are anxious or fearful or worried about what Diane and I are facing. While being realistic, we are filled with hope and you should be, too! We do not awake in fear but in gratitude for another day to share. There is so much to see and do! We hope for a healthy resolution in the near future and are so grateful for your prayers and many offers of support. In the meantime, while the pace of my life has slowed considerably and the focus has shifted somewhat, the underlying values and principles that guide my heart, mind and spirit … therefore, behavior … have not changed.

My prayer is, “Lord, thank you for my dear friends and family who love me and surround me with their kindness … who pray for me and over me … and who are a main reason why my life flourishes. Life would indeed be hollow and absent of so much meaning without their (your) presence. Thank you, Lord, for the times such as now, when I may stumble a bit and their (your) hands are there to embrace me. They are your hands in human form just as you became human and showed us how to live. But, Lord, I also ask that you help me to care for all of them. Help me to take any discomfort they may have and release it. Help us all to see beauty even in turbulent times.”

Two last things to share if you haven’t fallen asleep yet.

Last night, Diane and I were blessed to be the guest of Ken and Marjorie Blanchard, along with about fifteen others at a fabulous dinner. We each had a chance to reflect and share. Without going into a lot of details, one of the prompts was to share one word that would help guide us in the coming year. Ever the contrarian, when it came my time, I said I had two. They are surrender and awe.

Surrender and Awe.  To me, two sides of the same coin, joined in love, grace and the ever-present Holy. Each leads to the other. One is a conscious act of will. The other is a gift that arrives unbidden at times. It is a borrowed piece of the Other and a glimpse into eternity.

My friend, Gary, likes to use the example of the medieval German soldiers who the king desires to baptize by full immersion as a display of surrender. The soldiers were fine with this, with the exception of their sword arm and sword, which they held aloft, unwilling to fully submit that last and important feature that made them strong and distinct. What do we hold back and why?

Awe arrives frequently as a surprise. Sometimes in grand and breath-taking fashion and sometimes in more subtle ways. I think awe is the twin of wonder and I’m so grateful God has gifted me with a sense of both. How wonderful that Susan (dear Susan, our sister of the Friday mornings) and her husband, Andy, and daughter, Drew arrived with dinner as we got back from the hospital. That Mary drove down from Idyllwild to the hospital. How awesome is it to be so closely in touch, sharing one’s soul with people nearby and far away? We have dinner tonight with dear friends and, again, this Wednesday. You two sets of couples have also known suffering and trials that have shaken you to your core. Two other couples brought dinner over a week ago and they (you) are no strangers to past and present suffering. Lunch last week with a special friend of over forty years who reached out immediately and has been with me in some of life’s greatest trials. Monday morning men laying hands and anointing with oil. Prayer groups around the country who do not know me, being brought into fellowship through dear ones who act out of love and hope. How could this not be awesome??

I was asked about my levels of anxiety or fear and how to meet each day, not knowing. Well, it’s not hard when the moments are filled with the beauty of full hearts, laughter and endless kindness.

Finally, my friend, Fred, sent me a dear note last night. Full of wisdom and love. He included a link to a song I’d never heard but had had a profound impact on him. I played it long before sunup, then for the guys in the morning group and, finally, for Diane when I got home.

In the gentlest but most powerful way, the singer, with his acoustic guitar, speaks of difficult trials and how we are often on our knees (sometimes, literally!), but can exclaim “Hallelujah!”  Thank you, Fred.

This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it.  Psalm 118:24

I truly rejoice and am glad. Thank you for listening.