I’m going to run the risk of this appearing to be a somewhat callous posting. I don’t think of myself as a callous person and hope that those of you who know me would agree. However, in some time of quiet reflection yesterday, I felt called to a theme. And, then, with this morning’s news about another terrorist attack in Europe, I just needed to take it on.

For the longest time, I was very worried about the human race. I mean I thought about it (us) a whole lot. Back in junior high school, I worried about the human race. That didn’t let up in high school, nor in college, nor for decades afterwards. I think when many of my fellow teenagers were going to parties and more than a few were getting high, I was worried about the human race. Part of my problem was that I read constantly. I mean, I read almost more than constantly. Yes, I played sports, had jobs, did volunteer work, and hung out with friends. But, I just plain read all of the time. Once in awhile I read from Friday evening until Sunday night. And a lot of it was not your basic light reading. I’m not looking for brownie points here. It’s just that the stuff I read sort of cut to the heart of problems that plague the human race. You know, you can’t read history or philosophy or the great literary works without wondering what the heck is going on.

To make it worse, I just happened to hit adolescence in the mid 60s in the San Francisco Bay Area. Not your basic backwater of activity. No, aside from reading voraciously about deep topics, I arrived out of childhood in the midst of one of the most tumultuous times in our nation’s history. Marches. Sit-ins. Demonstrations. Civil Rights. War. And, remember, this was only fifty years after the War To End All Wars. Just twenty years after World War II. Just a decade after Korea. Smack in the middle of Vietnam.

In the second grade, we became very adept at doing duck and cover drills as we looked up at the skies and wondered what atomic bombs would look like as they arrived. I could write a book about growing into adulthood in this era but those books have already been written and I’m not interested in writing a biography here … however I am interested in making a point. Or two.

To continue: It wasn’t just that stuff. In the 1960s, eminent scientists told us about the Population Bomb. In a mere couple of decades, the world’s population would explode so much, we would run out of food and natural resources. Eminent scientists predicted Environmental Armageddon as our rivers, skies, and forests would soon be irretrievable. Mass extinctions of species in the immediate future. By the 1970s and 80s, eminent scientists were warning of the impending ice age that would bury much of the northern hemisphere under glaciers. In that same era, we were told that we were running out of oil at the fastest rate and would face tremendous fuel shortages with disastrous consequences. By the 1990s and early 2000s, eminent scientists told us that, no, we were not entering an ice age, we were facing imminent catastrophe from global warming. A Nobel was awarded to some folks who predicted that by 2014, most of the polar ice cap would have fully melted. In the last five years or so, eminent scientists have stopped really talking about global warming and are now talking about climate change and the doom it will bring.

And, then, or course, there are asteroids with our name on it, thousands of thermonuclear weapons, the risks of new and unpredictable plagues to which we have no defenses, bioterrorism, regional wars and on and on.

Aren’t you glad you decided to read this today?? 😦

This drum beat of doom and gloom has to either be ever present in our consciousness or just below the surface, pressed down because it’s just too much.

Ah, but then there’s the flip side. And, this is a pretty big deal. A real antidote to this dark perspective is the belief that man is perfectible. I’ll say it again, a real antidote to this reality I’ve described is the belief that man is perfectible.

I’ll call it the Star Trek phenomenon. Star Trek (which I have been known to enjoy) is the natural progression from the European Enlightenment that held that the seeds to man’s salvation lies within man. Man is inherently good and we just have to progress into living out that inherent goodness. This was a very big deal in the 18th and 19th centuries. It was the prevailing philosophy right through the deaths of hundreds of millions who perished in the attempt by societies to achieve the perfectibility of man. I’d be happy to provide background on the thinking of leaders of Germany, China, Russia, England, France the U.S. and dozens of other countries if you doubt this.

Anyway, the Star Trek phenomenon is premised on the inherent goodness of the Federation, which had evolved into a noble enterprise (get that?) to maintain the peace and support mankind’s endless search. So, we boldly go where no man has gone before because we’ve already resolved the here and now. The real threat is from out there. Not from in here.

This utopian fantasy is the perfect antidote to the realities I presented earlier.

I was deeply affected by these realities and was intrigued by some variations of the utopian fantasies. I actually worried about the survivability of the human race. I mean, I really worried about it. To be honest, I still do but not in the same sense.

I have to tell you, I read the reflections of a top cosmologist the other day. A cosmologist is someone who is really smart and looks at really big stuff, like the nature and fabric of the universe, where it came from, what it’s made of and where it’s going. I read stuff like that because I like science and I enjoy finding challenging stuff because … well, it’s challenging.

Well, this top scientist is really worried. And, I thought I was worried. You see, he’s concluded that in about a trillion years (that’s about 70 times longer than the life of our 14 billion year old universe or about 250 times longer than our earth has been in existence and about 5,000,000 times longer than homo sapiens has been around) the universe is going to go dark. All the energy will have been burned up. No light. No life. No possibility of life. He’s really torn up about this. He says he’s struggling with despondency.

I get his pain. In other words, we’re doomed. Whatever WE is. We’re doomed. There’s no escaping it. We can try to push it out. We can hide in under the rug. It’s all going dark.

Unless it’s not.

Eleven years ago this Saturday, I was shaken to the core. I would have scoffed at this before. In fact, I did scoff at it. I had studied religious experience. For goodness sakes, I’d had religious experiences. But nothing close to the moment when I felt like I had the darkest glasses lifted away from my eyes and I could see color for the first time. I realized I belonged to another world and that I was visiting this one. My home is elsewhere.

This is what I was reflecting upon in my quiet time yesterday afternoon, while I was looking at the sky, with its wispy white clouds and some birds soaring high above. This is what I was reflecting upon when I saw some colorful blossoms in our new garden and a few bees and butterflies flitting about.

Yes, we should steward this beautiful earth. Take care of our resources. Protect its beauty and nurture its bounty. Yes, we should be aware of our footprints on both nature and man. We should battle against injustice, lift up those without, seek the good of others, learn to love deeply.

Let’s not be seduced by an endless search for perfection or from some utopian fantasy that man can develop the perfect civilization. Let’s instead allow our eyes and hearts to be open to what is right in front of us, both the beautiful and the ugly, and seek what is right and good and whole.

I may die tomorrow. Or next year. The universe doesn’t care. (I’m sorry. Some people say, “give it to the universe.” I really don’t know what they mean. I don’t mean to offend and perhaps I’ll learn some day.) Some great calamity may strike us next year or in ten years or in a thousand years. At times, I find myself being pulled back there momentarily. But, not for long. I don’t believe I am here to change civilization or to help mankind or to worry about it. I believe I’m here to love God, love the people I come into contact with, to realize that I am fully loved, warts and all, and to serve others where I may. I also believe I’m here to enjoy the bounty which unfolds each day and to be refreshed by the wonder of it all.

Please don’t tell me that mankind is improving. Yes, we are raising our collective standard of living and that’s really good. Unless that standard of living is in competition with what is really important. Don’t tell me that wealthy people love more deeply, are more compassionate and joyful than less wealthy people. Yes, it’s better to be healthy with full stomachs than sick and hungry. But I’ve known poor and ill people who live much more rewarding lives than those who do not know such want. Don’t tell me that highly educated people are more altruistic than less educated people. That they are less selfish and self-centered. In fact, I’d hazard the opposite is true.

We can retreat into our literal or figurative fortresses. Literally, we can try to wall ourselves off from all external threats. We can even choose to go cryogenic in the hope that we can become immortal by freezing our bodies for resuscitation at some point in the distant future when all is rosy. Figuratively, we can dream that some day mankind will fix itself. How nice that would be. Or we can retreat into despair like that represented in so much popular media that glorifies a dark and dystopian future. Or, like our friend the cosmologist, that in the end there is no hope for us.

Ahhh, but the human heart is a glorious thing. When released into its potential, it’s quite a thing of beauty. I know of no state-sponsored  curriculum in school that encourages this. I know of no government program that has the vision, intent or means to assist in this. I can see little effort by dominant media to help soften and transform human hearts. I see no evidence that political leaders understand and model what is truly good and fulfilling for each of us.

But, I do not despair. On the contrary, I’m filled with hope. I have one foot in each of two worlds. I live in that place. I am a visitor in one and at home in the other. It’s neither the one or the other. It’s both. And, they pull and tug and call and battle for allegiance.

So, each day I am left with choices. I am granted control over what I think about and what I choose to do. I can choose to feel deep sorrow for the victims in last night’s atrocities in Brussels. I can feel anger at the evil that is behind it and so many other atrocities and injustices. I can feel emptiness in the hole Shannon left behind. I can feel peace when gazing at clouds and flowers or when I’m in prayer or silence. I can feel contentment at the gratitude of that call center person on the phone this morning after I spoke with her so encouragingly. I can feel happiness in this moment that my lungs are working well, that my dermatologist discovered no new cancers yesterday and that my carotid artery is silent. I can feel hopeful that my prayerful request to be available today to bless someone else’s life will be answered. I can feel joy that I will be with many dear people this week. And, of course, as a follower of Jesus, I am eternally glad that the war was won between Friday and Sunday around two thousand years ago, leaving me to do some important clean up work.

My job is to live today as God intends. Period.

I’ll leave the human race and its future to the one at the higher pay grade.

Lord, sometimes it just seems like a whole big mess out there. Like maybe we can easily be lost in the constant threats to our peace and safety. Or that our hearts break from seeing so much suffering. Or that we are easily seduced by promises that we’ll eventually solve the big problems, not recognizing that the same hearts that can break are the very hearts that can destroy. Help us to do what we can to bring life and love into places we dwell and over which we have some influence. Help us to see colorful flowers peeking out of the earth and to rejoice in the many delights that surround us. I thank you for helping me to live as fully as is possible in both worlds. Amen.