My last post was on the twin topics of solitude and silence. In a sense, this is a continuation. After all, what’t the most important objective of practicing solitude and silence?

Well, that probably depends upon what we think are the most important objectives in our life.

There are, of course, many therapeutic and aesthetic benefits from slowing things down, pulling back from the noise, opening our eyes to the wonders obscured by our regular obsessions. I’m a big fan of all of this.

But, as the title suggests, I’m after something a bit more. Not different, but more.

I constantly pose the question of whether or not God is real. And, then, the following question of who or what is his nature if he is real? We may differ on these and some may have no opinion.

I make the bold statement, disturbing to some, that I have an idea of God’s nature. Actually, I have more than an idea. In fact, it’s a conviction. Granted, my idea/conviction is quite limited in scope but not in substance. There is an important distinction.

My conviction is that not only is God quite real, he is the God Jesus presents to us. And, the God Jesus presents to us actually wants to have a relationship with us. Imagine that! The God of all that is wants to have a relationship with me.

To say that this was a stumbling point for me for like a zillion years would be an understatement. I’ve heard all of the arguments. I’ve practiced all of the arguments that are organized around the concept that even if there is a God, he doesn’t really want to have a relationship with me. Like, why would I want a relationship with an ant? (That’s a commonly drawn analogy.)

Anyone reading this who is not interested in what to do if you believe God wants a relationship with us will probably not be interested in where the rest of this is going.

On the other hand …

First of all, we need to create the space for us to be connected with God. If we don’t create the space to be connected with our spouses, children, friends, co-workers, for instance, those relationships do not flourish and, indeed, are likely to wither. The same goes with God.

One of the obvious challenges of this is that we can actually use our natural senses to see, hear, and feel those around us. These natural senses don’t serve us particularly well when it comes to an invisible God. (At least invisible as we might initially determine.)

As a consequence, we need to ask ourselves, how do we communicate with a God without using our natural senses in the usual fashion?

The answer for many who believe in a personal God is to pray. (I will probably write more on prayer but that’s not at the core of this reflection.) Now, most people who pray do so with the understanding that they want to ask something of God. “God, please …” I’ve heard this practice described as “arrow prayers.” Pull back the bow string, insert the request and let it fly upwards. Most people who pray (and, most people actually do pray in some form) do so without expecting to hear something in return.

So, what does this have to do with silence and solitude? Well, for starters, we need to rethink what “hearing” is all about.

I know of a man who prays constantly, making many requests of God, and he is quite unhappy. He is particularly unhappy that God doesn’t just break through like those huge digital freeway signs and say something like “Joe (not his real name), I got your message and here’s my answer!”

I read a book about ten years ago (and again in my men’s morning group not that long ago) by Dallas Willard, entitled Hearing God. (Now, if I could be Dallas Willard when I grow up, I’d say that would be a really cool thing. Unfortunately, I don’t expect that’s in the cards.) Anyway, this is not your dime store novel book. It is carefully laid out, setting up all of the false narratives of what hearing God is all about and then providing a remarkable different perspective. Let’s just say it’s like a technical car repair manual for the most sophisticated engines. On the plus side, it makes an unbelievable amount of sense. It did the first time I read it and even more years later when we worked through it in a group. While this might invite scoffers, it’s basically a how-to manual for hearing God. Why not?

What I’ll say is this. Everything I read in that book dovetailed nicely with my own experience. Additionally, I learned some do’s and don’ts that have paid off over the years.

Fundamentally, God works very nicely into spaces that we help provide. Not always, by any means and that gets complicated. God, being God, knows what is best for us, even if we disagree with him, which we often do.

I know this: That when I don’t push things … when I don’t make demands … when I don’t expect my timetable to be God’s timetable, I’m routinely surprised when and how he shows up.

God, after all, speaks in a number of different ways. And we hear him in a number of different ways. If we don’t understand that and shift the way we think about this, we will miss a good deal of the conversation. And, when we miss a good deal of the conversation, we lose out on a good deal of the relationship … which, after all, is the point of the whole thing.

Certainly, we can ask in a normal way. The traditional way is to bow one’s head and close one’s eyes as an act of reverence (after all, God is mightily Holy and deserving of reverence). But, that’s certainly not the only way to ask. We can have eyes wide open, having a running monologue as we drive our cars, walk down the street, look at the world around us, deal with problem people, prepare for difficult stuff, rejoice in great stuff and so on. The thing is, God knows what we’re going to say before we do (now, don’t go off on that tangent right now about the power of prayer in light of that … I might address that at a different time).

The bigger trick is how to position ourselves to “receive” God. In fact, he’s good at delivering his voice in a variety of ways. But, we need to have minds and hearts tuned to his frequency and that’s the key.

One of the most common ways we hear God is via something that is commonly referred to as the “still small voice.” When you think about it, that’s a peculiar way to describe how God, as powerful and immense as he is, chooses to communicate with us. But, it’s an apt description and I speak from experience.

Think of it this way. It often appears seemingly from nowhere. A complete non sequitur. The thought just arrives out of left field, unbidden but addressing a thing of some importance. It’s usually quite clear. Actual words that are formed in a sentence or more. Much stronger than an inclination or nudge. Like, “where did that come from?” I’ve found that it provides a clear sense of direction or resolution. It’s not vague or abstract. The naysayers will poo-pooh this as mumbo jumbo … just mental games. I get that. Some will rightfully point out that this is how insight works: We struggle with a problem until the tumblers line up appropriately and then the safe cracks open. Sometimes, it’s a message about what is happening to someone else. I’ve even “heard” an instruction to check on such and such a thing regarding another person and when I did just that, the other person has said, “how in the world did you know that?” (In fact, it actually happened again just yesterday morning.)

I have written on this particular thing before and that is when I get that clear “nudge” that I’m supposed to reach out to connect with some stranger. I don’t mean smile but actually connect. The “voice” says, “Talk to him.” Now, I really don’t want to talk with him (whomever he is) because I don’t know him and he’s working out on the gym bicycle next to me and it’s just plain weird for a guy to just start talking with a stranger next to him in the gym who is concentrating hard while working out. I heard the exact same message while seated next to a man in the large waiting room for jury duty. “Talk to him.” Now, the first couple of times this happened, I responded in my mind, “No.”

Here’s the thing about the still small voice of God. It’s God. And God can be persistent. Of course, we can always choose to ignore God (a good part of humanity makes that choice each day), but for those of us who have actually experienced God and what it means to either turn away or surrender, surrender is usually the best course of action. So, in the cases above, after a good fight which must be amusing in the heavenly realm, I’ve chosen to put caution to the wind and do as instructed. The results have been nothing short of astonishing.

I know of two other ways that we “hear” God’s voice. The first of these is that he actually uses other people to speak love and truth into our lives. I could go all theological here and talk about how this works but I know from a whole lot of experience that it does. The naysayers will rightfully question how we can discern that God is actually working through others in this sense. I understand and accept their skepticism. It’s healthy to wonder if the advice and perspective of others is just commonsense stuff as opposed to some kind of supernatural message, the latter of which has the potential to enter dangerous territory (I’ll leave that be for now).

One test I (and others of a like mind) use is to gauge whether the message received from other Jesus-followers clearly reflects what we already know about God (through a wide array of means) and is spoken in both truth and love. I have encountered this so many times and have been amazed at how God uses each of us to partner with his fundamental business.

This is already a long post and I won’t continue with this, here. Maybe I’ll return to explore this feature more at a different time.

And that brings us to another way we hear God’s voice. I suspect this is much more rare although we wish that wasn’t the case.

Simply, he actually does a full audible. Unlike the still small voice, this one is a clarion call. Wham-o. Saul heard it on the road to Damascus and it knocked him blind and silly. He was instantly transformed and the world has never been the same since. I heard it at 6:40pm on March 26, 2005 and I was knocked silly, instantly transformed and nothing has been the same since. It still takes my breath away on a regular basis. When I relate that story, which I do on occasion, the two most common reactions by other Christians are, one, a sense of utter affirming amazement and, two, a feeling akin to a wee bit of jealousy. As in, “I sure wish I had that happen to me.” To this latter response, I always reply, “you don’t want to be where I was in my fight with God for thirty years.”

Who knows why God chooses to communicate with us in different ways at different times in our lives?

The important key to all of this, should we conclude that God is real and cares about having a relationship with us is that we do our part in creating the space to connect with him. We can’t “hear” God if we are too busy and distracted by other things; if we are chasing after idols that push God out. Sure, once in a blue moon, he might just intrude with the strength of a massive thunderclap but that’s not usually his practice. Instead, he nudges at our edges, trying to draw us to him, always giving us a choice.

Once we stop demanding things of God … once we stop trying to define our relationship with him the way we want it, we are on the road to creating that space. With some patience and a mind and heart that honestly says only, “God, have your way with me,” we can be deeply surprised by what happens. By the way, Jesus knew what he was talking about when he taught and modeled this.

When we sing the song with the lyrics, “This is the air I breathe,” that air includes God’s voice, without which life would be but a desert in comparison.

At least that’s how I see it.

Blessings.

I had a couple of conversations this week on the twin topics of silence and solitude. Some of us were also engaged in the more general topic of rest and how we need that space to tune our bodies, minds, and souls. Our bodies, minds, and souls are easily thrown out of tune.

I have approached these things in many different ways over the years. I’ve tried stuff, abandoned stuff, read stuff, learned stuff, and the list goes on. Silence and solitude are a big deal to me and but by no means am I content that I’ve got them down pat.

Maybe I’ll start our here by putting it like this: The issue is space.

Imagine your closet. Now, some people like a lot of what we now call clutter. Lots of stuff jammed together, all over the place. Of course, maybe the owner has such a keen understanding of where everything is, there is no effort to get right to the intended target. But, some have to spend inordinate energy sifting through everything. On the other hand, some people are so concerned about neatness that inordinate energy is expended just being OCD.

I think this is a very poor but slightly suitable metaphor for how we approach our lives. How messy are our lives? How much stuff do we have going on all of the time? Working people, parents, etc… face an extraordinary amount of demand for attention and productivity. Older or retired people may get a break from much of that but many of them face the opposite: They lack purpose because they don’t have much of value going on.

I can’t count the number of articles I’ve read on the things people pay attention to and how they go about doing that. Noise. Attention spans. Bandwidth. Drinking information out of a firehose. Our children have basically always known the digital age. It’s not a stretch for me (an avid explorer, seeking knowledge) to remember going to the family bookshelves to search through our encyclopedia set or to the library to look through the card catalog and the various print indexes. Horse and buggy now. We’re connected 24/7 through all sorts of information highways, pumping us full of stuff all of the time. And, yes, I don’t know how many articles I’ve read on how there’s a direct correspondence between this fact and the massively elevated levels of anxiety and stress. Lots.

Our bodies, minds, and souls are easily thrown out of tune.

Efforts to quiet the din, slow things down, relax and get off the treadmill are nothing new. The theory is not rocket science but to the extent we’re regularly successful at it, it might as well be.

To me, the formula is rather simple. First, we need to recognize the value of quieting the noise. In other words, what’s the point? Second, we need to resolve that it’s a priority. And, third, we need to have the will (intention, commitment) to actually begin changing our behavior, even if it’s bit by bit. Three things.

It’s one thing to sort of think that things like silence and solitude might be of benefit but it’s quite another to actually believe it. After all, who among us has regularly experienced these things and connected them to observable results over the long haul? Silence and solitude are not the stuff of modern life. Lord knows they have a lot of competition for our attention.

Then, it’s one thing to sort of think it’s probably important to create time and space for this stuff and it’s quite another to elevate its priority substantially.

Finally, it’s one the thing to think it’s important, another thing to mark it as a high priority and an entirely different thing to actually follow through.

I am definitely not good at many things. Car repair for instance. Many (most?) guys are pretty conversant about the things that make cars run well. I like well-running cars, at least for the fact that I fear when they don’t run well I won’t know exactly what to do other than to hope we’re not on a long road trip. I’m also not very good at paying attention sometimes. I’m sure I was undiagnosed ADD, of the inattentive (not hyperactive) sort. The mind just floats away. Some of my staff used to just sit back and say to themselves, “Brad just shut down. We’ll wait until he powers back up.” Usually took about 30 seconds or so. I could go on a lot about the things I’m not good at.

However, when it comes to solitude and silence, I’ve grown over the years and learned a thing or two. I’m a believer. Certainly, it’s been a process of two steps forward and one back … or maybe vice versa for awhile. Certainly, it was a great challenge when I was working at redline and felt like I shouldered the responsibility for hundreds and thousands of people’s welfare. I used to think of my brain at times as a playground for a whole lot of hamsters, running incessantly on those little caged wheels, churning away, spinning out problems, issues, thoughts, concerns, anxieties and all sorts of stuff. Maybe that hasn’t happened to you. 🙂  2am, 4am. Didn’t matter. Commute time. Go, go, go. For what it’s worth, I still have hamsters.

Maybe I was fortunate at a young age to go camping a lot. Hiking. Backpacking. Riding bikes deep into the hills outside of our suburban neighborhoods. Later, cross country skiing, with Diane or friends or even alone. Off in the silence of a forest, bathed in new snow, only the sound of the breeze in the trees or, perhaps, clumps of snow falling from their limbs. Little rivulets of trickling brooks, with sunlight glancing off the whites and blues and greens and browns. Sitting on a log in the sub-freezing cold but with the right gear providing warmth, as we snacked, chatted together or when I just sat alone on those occasions when I was by myself. I can’t remember ever being anxious about anything then. I felt part of something much greater than the everyday reality of to-do lists and incessant voices expecting results.

Maybe I was also fortunate to become acquainted with classical music at a very young age. It was played in our home and I acquired quite a taste for it as a violinist. When occasions warrant, I am at home with a playlist of quiet piano music running in the background. I am listening in that way now, while my thoughts wander and alight on a thing, while my eyes can also see through our large front window, noticing the billowing post-storm white clouds traveling slowly across the deep blue sky, sun defining their shapes as they constantly change. In the foreground is our relatively new garden, white roses abloom, surrounded by the natural colors of shrubs and trees and succulents, each reflecting the sun and touched by that gentle breeze.

At the moment, my body, mind and soul are not entirely out of tune.

I am not unaware of all of the things pressing for my attention, many of which are certainly more than deserving. But, the peace that comes with the relative quiet is like a reintroduction of fuel into the tank.

In fact, the value of this kind of thing is much greater than I’ve mentioned so far. But, that may need to be exposed separately.

I have learned from people much wiser than I that old habits die hard and new habits are often just as hard to develop. But, that work can be done and it pays off royally. Start by rethinking the thing and then taking the smallest steps going forward.

I said near the beginning that the issue was one of space. Each of us needs to figure out how to create that space. If it’s a priority, we’ll do just that. When embraced in moderation, the twin practices of silence and solitude are healthy habits and our bodies, minds and souls will be most grateful. Blessings.

As we were chatting in Gary’s hospital room yesterday morning, waiting for a visit from his surgeon after the previous night’s brain biopsy procedure, our free-flowing discussion turned momentarily to matter and energy. (As an aside: Preliminary biopsy results confirmed brain cancer so that whole journey is now beginning.)

Gary is both a very gifted nuclear physicist (now retired) and a practicing Christian, which puts him in a minority in that field but not by any means a minuscule minority. Professionally, he helped replicate the fusion features of the sun in order to understand the nature of small bits of matter and energy. Fusion science is fascinating to me, although mostly way beyond my mental grasp.

Anyway, we were having a conversation about things called “dark matter” and “dark energy.” Long story about why we were talking about this. I was initially inclined to address these two things specifically on these pages but I think I won’t go there in any detail.

So, why bring it up?

Well, to make an extremely complex topic very simple, scientists believe that all of the observable mass and energy in the universe is but a small fraction of what’s really out there, hence the word “dark” for the stuff we can’t directly observe. When you think about it, for instance, there’s a whole lot of mass out there (let’s just say physical stuff), like maybe hundreds of billions of galaxies, each with hundreds of billions of stars, for starters. But, if that’s only a small fraction of the actual physical stuff, then that raises some extra questions. For scientists who think about these kinds of things, this is very important. Why is it important for the rest of us?

One reason is that this kind of thing must humble us. We should already be humbled to think about how we fit into the reality of all things, when taken against the vast nature of our complex universe. Add the fact that what we see is just a smaller piece of the whole thing, and I, for one, have to at least momentarily hit the pause button.

But another reason is the thing that prompted me to write this.

And that is how we approach a thing that we seem to be able to detect for a variety of reasons but actually can’t see or completely understand.

So, Gary was explaining how scientists have come to believe (even prove, given what they know) that dark matter and energy exist. In fact, the nature of galaxies would not be possible without their presence. Things like how galaxies actually hold together. The observable gravitational forces just aren’t close to being strong enough. I had known this to some extent because I occasionally find myself reading the science pages. But, what struck me this morning as I was reflecting back on yesterday’s conversation is how we practice our faith and belief systems in a similar fashion.

The scientists who study these cosmological and astrophysical forces so closely have come to know that these invisible things are present because of the effects and influence they have on the things that are visible. This, of course, leads to all sorts of debates and theories about what exactly is going on, without anyone just flat sitting down, relaxing and saying something like “I got it. I get the whole picture, signed sealed and delivered.”

Scientists seem very fine with this and so should we.

I spend a lot of time on these pages talking about things like belief, faith and knowledge. I also spend a lot of time talking about the things that we can observe in this world of ours and how they are evidence of things largely unseen. One of the great critiques of those who object to the notion of God is that he/it cannot be proven. (Of course, just as clearly, no one can prove the non-existence of God!)

I have thought about the nature of all of that invisible matter and energy and I find it fascinating. (I may be in a small minority in that sense.) I like the fact that there are worlds beyond the scope of our current powers of observation but I also like the fact that we have senses to detect things and minds that can reason about what those things are and what they may mean for us.

What kinds of things can we point to that suggest that there is a supernatural reality to all things or not? What kinds of evidence can we detect that suggest that there is or is not an actual God or that Jesus actually did or did not exist or, if he did, was his purported take on things reasonably accurate or reasonably inaccurate?

I find myself like a sponge many a day, collecting bits and pieces of data … perhaps mostly on a subconscious (dark?) level that inform how I approach this life I find myself in and what it all means. What a wondrous thing that is!

So, carry on you cosmologists and astrophysicists. Keep looking for the clues that help us to understand this vast reality. I’ll be doing the same. Blessings.

Death.

What really happens?

I mean it.

What really happens?

There is no escape. We know this. We work very hard not to think about it. We structure our lives not to think about it. It’s there. We know it. But, we work very hard not to think about it.

Sure, we all know it’s going to happen. We know, although we don’t like to think about it, that we are born naked and we will end naked. We are born with nothing and we take nothing with us.

Or, is that true?

I have to say that I’ve never … I mean, never … been in a dinner table conversation about what we think we’re actually facing when we die. And, I’ve been in a lot of dinner table conversations.

Why is that?

I mean, is there a bigger question? Is there a more meaningful question?

It’s the singular reality of our existence. We are going to die.

What of it?

There are only so many possibilities. We humans have thought through most of them. Perhaps there are some, in theory, we have not thought about.

One is pure dust to dust. We are purely physical entities made up of particles and energy and will return to just that. Particles and energy. No substance to speak of. Nothing distinct. We will return to the vast universe as the pieces of disassociated stardust of what we are made.

The opposite is that we are somehow far more than that. We exist as distinct and eternal beings and have a kind of substance that is more than the sum of our particles and energy.

That, of course, assumes some kind of a reality or plan that is greater than is evident on the surface.

As much as I try, I can’t escape the binary nature of this issue. It’s either one or the other. Either we are meaningless particles and energy or we are meaningful particles and energy. If the latter, that begs the question, of course.

This is a big deal if we allow it to be.

We can go through life as if this is all we are going to experience. Or, we can go through life as if it is not all we are going to experience. Maybe you think this is a small gap. I think it’s a big one.

Let’s think about it.

I like to approach questions like this from the perspective of probabilities. Two other approaches come to mind, though. One is to avoid it; not to think about it. This approach can also include the thought that the whole thing cannot be known so what’s the use, anyway? The other is to just state a belief one way or the other as an act of faith, akin to throwing up one’s hands and saying, “I guess I just believe there is (is not) an afterlife. Enough said.”

Me? I like to use the gift of reason which, for some reason, we have. Sort of like using the gift of eyesight, not available to some life forms. And, reason is a whole lot about probabilities when it comes to discerning things that remain definitively unknown.

We obviously live immersed in the realm of probabilities as few future outcomes about our lives can be discerned with absolute certainty. We live as if we’ll be alive tomorrow (this evening, an hour from now and so forth) but we cannot be absolutely sure of it. In our job lives, we live as if we will not be fired tomorrow (hopefully). We can apply this to how we live in relationships with family and friends. We assume an outcome without absolutely knowing it will come true. Our assumptions are usually based on some intrinsic sense of probabilities.

Oh, of course, probabilities are about the likeliness or odds that a thing is true. The closer to 100%, the more reliable we believe it.

If the thing we’re considering is of little or no consequence, then thinking about its related probabilities doesn’t really matter. “The odds seem about 50/50 you say? Well, I don’t really care all that much.”

But, if the thing has potentially big consequences, then it seems a bit disingenuous to just punt the question down the road.

The reason for the well-worn aphorism that there are no atheists in foxholes is that crouching, terrified, in such a place while being bombarded by high explosives will always focus one’s attention on the meaning of life. By circumstance, one just cannot avoid the fact of what could happen in the next split second. (Of course, there are atheists in foxholes but that’s not really my point here. The issue is not really one of what we believe but how, why and when we believe it.)

I am thinking right now of why we don’t talk about this more. I mean, we talk about consequential stuff all of the time. Things in the news. Big issues that mean a lot to us. Political issues. Economic issues. Cultural issues. Why is it we don’t really want to talk about death with our friends and loved ones?

I mean we know it’s there. We know it is inevitable. We see it both in the distance and up close and personal. People have all sorts of opinions on all sorts of things. I imagine most people have at least some kind of opinion on death, whether having thought it through carefully or not.

One possible answer to this lack of attention given the thing is the common perception that death is just not a good thing. It’s a dark thing. A picture of the Grim Reaper kind of thing. A thing that comes to take who we are away. And, who wants to talk about that, for goodness sakes? Who wants to spend discretionary time thinking about that when it’s, to be honest, enormously depressing.

Can you imagine it? A social gathering at a dinner party? Some spirited discussion about sports teams or immigration or whose news is fake news and you raise your voice above the din and say, “Let’s now all share our thought about death.”

Silence. Well, that didn’t go well.

What if we flipped that? What if we shoved aside our natural discomforts and took the thing head on? What if we set aside our innate uncertainties in favor of trying to think about things that we could throw into the mix of probabilities? Assuredly, most people have an opinion on this. My situation two years ago and Gary’s situation today are obviously such occasions. They also offer others around us an opportunity to think about these things, too.

What if we sloughed off the inclination to morbidness, relaxed, and played the “what if” game?

I may have more to say on this soon. Thanks for listening.

So, I often try to find a certain balance when I write these things. I realize that some of you who read this stuff self-identify as Christians and some do not. Some of you practice other faith traditions and I know of at least one or two professing atheists who may roam here from time to time. I appreciate that. I’m a firm believer that diversity of experience and perspective is helpful to all of us as we seek to find meaning in our lives. Which means that there are times I shy somewhat away from “preaching” a certain thing to be true. This is probably not one of those times.

On rare occasions, I feel called to write about a particular person and the qualities in them I believe deeply enrich the lives of others. For obvious reasons (like I know a lot of exceptional people and I also know that they don’t like the limelight), I don’t do that often, although I frequently find a way to get them into the mix one way or another, even anonymously.

Today, I’m going to specifically mention my friend Gary, although this will really not be about him. After all, when we were talking this morning about what he is facing right now and how people around him are responding, he said, “It’a a Ponzi scheme.” We laughed and I agreed.

(It strikes me right now, for those of you familiar with how Jesus taught in parables, he frequently said “The Kingdom of God is like … fill in the blank.” For now, “The Kingdom of God is like a Ponzi scheme.”)

Gary is one of the most committed Jesus-followers I know. I’m not sure I know anyone who has been involved in more acts of service, while also carrying on an extremely demanding career as an exceptional scientist, while being a husband, father and friend. His weekly (and more) visits to prison, his leadership at church, and in the Emmaus and Kairos ministries, his commitment to an orphanage and school in Kenya, his participation as a Stephen’s Minister (many of these alongside his wonderful wife, Ginny) are all about reaching out to those who struggle with things that are truly overwhelming. Throughout, not a person would describe him as arrogant or assuming. He is humble and transparent, willing to share weaknesses and doubts. If any of you reading this have a certain view of a Christian as overly judgmental, haughty and self-righteous in manner and deed, you are not describing Gary. Gary’s life for the last twenty years ago has been all about surrender and it shows.

But, there’s surrender and there’s surrender.

When Jesus said to those first fishermen on the shores of that large lake we call the Sea of Galilee, “Follow me,” and when we hear the term in Christian circles, “Take up the cross,” these are calls to surrender. All of us are used to surrender but how many of us wake up each morning wondering how we’re going to surrender today? Addicts in recovery do. To what are we addicted? And if we don’t think we are, maybe we should rethink that.

Gary has never really been sick, and tomorrow at 5pm he will submit to a neurosurgeon who will bore a hole into his left temporal lobe to try to to get at a small alien growth deep in his brain. The objective will be to find that small growth and get enough tissue to ascertain how dangerous it really is. Gary is unused to being a patient and submitting to the will of physicians. He has been around many others who have faced this but he hasn’t faced this personally so this is a new experience. It’s hard. It’s hard to lose control. It’s hard to face mortality up close and personal. And, it’s also very hard sometimes for people who are used to graciously giving to graciously receive. This is a thing that Gary is learning to surrender. We should pay attention.

Which brings me to Ponzi. Now, technically, what I am about to share is not a Ponzi scheme because that was about how to defraud people out of their money by promising tantalizingly high returns on their investments … the source of which was the contributions of later investors who were promised the same thing. We can also refer to it as a pyramid scheme which is a common tool for some enterprises whereby the ever-expanding base funnels resources up to higher levels. You all know what I’m talking about.

What motivated Gary to mention this is his experience in the last 24 hours, a thing he finds quite surprising, which is interesting because he should know better.

Here is what happened and then I’ll finally get to my point.

We worked to devise a format to communicate what Gary (and Ginny) are and will be going through. It was way too burdensome to expect them to continually update family and friends who care. So, I asked them to give me the email addresses of people they’d like in the loop. In the afternoon, I sent an update to about 70 people, giving information and also asking for prayers. I became aware, that in short order, some of those people were forwarding my email to dozens and dozens of other people in their own networks, most of whom had no idea of who Gary is. Some of those emails are asking those next groups of people to stop what they are doing at 5pm tomorrow to pray for Gary, the doctors and the outcome, among other things. It is not a stretch to realize that by tomorrow, there could be hundreds of people aware of what is happening and pausing in their lives to act in love. And, some do not even know him.

This struck Gary hard. As it should.

I could see why he said it’s a Ponzi scheme. A simple mechanism is devised to call attention to a single thing … to bring a kind of return. And, then it grows geometrically or exponentially. It replicates outwards at a seemingly dizzying pace. What is really happening here?

To me, this is much more than the contemporary phenomenon of things that going “viral.” In that sense, information goes out, grabs everyone’s attention, gets its brief shelf life and then we go on to the next distraction.

As I was contemplating this process early this morning, before I spoke with Gary, but being aware of what is happening, I began to think about neurons in the brain and how they are networked. This is not a new topic for me. I think about this from time to time.

“The Kingdom of God is like a neural network.”

Before I actually experienced this, I probably paid no attention if and when I ever hear someone say the Body of Christ. Aside from the obvious that Jesus (the Christ) had a body, I most likely would have dismissed it as a simple way to describe a group of people who followed him and the Christian faith. Maybe a little like Raider Nation or the such.

Now, theologically, there’s a whole lot more to it and it can be a thing that is oft-putting to some. And, I can understand why!

On a weird but not so far-fetched level, it’s kind of like the terror movie “Invasion of the Body Snatchers.” Or, when the Borg face off with our Star Trek heroes. Believe me, I know how this must seem to some people as they discover that someone threw a switch and a friend or family member went off the deep end and was “born again.” The stuff of cults and all of that, for goodness sakes.

This happened to me and, believe me, I got (and still get) some of that reaction.

Well, yes.

It IS an invasion of the body snatchers. Theologically, it’s called the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, part of the triune God that takes up residence and connects us in the most remarkable ways.

Like we are individual neurons (specialized cells that transmit energy), networked for a single purpose. Yes, we are distinct but are inextricably connected and relate to one another at light speed. For all practical purposes, instantaneously.

In this hyper individualized world which idolizes pride of self and raises ones “feelings” as supreme and the most objectively true things, we lose sight of what binds us together. Yet, when the bonds are created so quickly and out of love, the purpose of the neurons is revealed.

The Body of Christ is like a human brain. After all, the scriptures say we are created in God’s image. The purpose of the human brain is to organize all function in order that we may live and be the thing we were designed to be. All systems are connected and ordered to that end. The purpose of Jesus is to show us who and what God is and to invite us into that world. When we accept that, we become part of what we may call the Body of Christ. I realize this does not sit well with many people. It can sound exclusive and strangely unnatural. After all, who wants to have their body snatched?

So, is the Kingdom of God like a divine Ponzi scheme? Well, yes, to the extent that things flow outwards and upwards at a frantic pace, ever expanding, building capacity in the things that truly matter, like Love and Grace. No, to the extent that it eventually topples because it’s made on quicksand. It’s exactly the opposite. Rock solid. Is the Kingdom of God like an invasion of the body snatchers? Well, yes, to the extent that we are really not our own. We belong to someone and some thing greater than ourselves. And, that thing connects us with others who realize the truth of that belonging.

In the horror movie, which was originally about the threat of communism, those so invaded instantly recognized their own and, in a sense, were zombified. In reality, I can bond instantly with someone from a different race, vastly different culture, different socio-economic status and even political leanings, and be hugging them quickly and entranced by their story. Some of you may claim that makes me a zombie.

The danger of course, is for people like me to distance ourselves from others not of a like mind. This is wrong. I have said before that my job and life right now is to have one foot in each world. I know of no other way to do it.

Here’s the bottom line to me and the reason why circumstances like what is happening to Gary ripple out so quickly. When we answer Jesus’ call to follow and surrender to the message and meaning of his life, we find ourselves surrounded by opportunities to connect with others, especially those who suffer. Those connections are forged in foundries constructed of love and grace and they seek, seemingly of their own accord (but not) to issue forth, constantly constructing a network with the same divine DNA. Jesus said he came to set the captive free. The captive often has a name and it is called Lonely. The Kingdom of God is anything but a lonely place. It is vibrant and shimmering. It closes distances at light speed. It is a bonding of matter and energy with a focus and purpose.

Jesus said there are really only two main things. Love God and love one another. With everything we have. If this is just a platitude with no real substance, then so be it for people who think that way. But, if it’s actually true, then we need help because these two things are not easy. The Good News is that help is always available, however we want to characterize that in fun. We just need to surrender and ask.

Although my friend Gary has spent a lot of time living in the world I am describing, he is finding new ways to be both challenged and completed. He is witnessing what it is like to receive grace and be loved by so many people. One does not emerge from such an experience unchanged. Thank God.

My very good friend is now ill. We don’t know yet how serious it is but brain cancer is brain cancer. Not un-serious. He’s 73 and has basically never been ill. Sure, he’s had the typical stuff but until a bout of pneumonia last summer, he’s largely escaped the big leagues. He, hospitals, and specialists have managed to avoid one another. That’s over now.

I, on the other hand, have battled illness all of my life. My medical record is inches thick and my various maladies have had specialists on their toes, scratching their heads for as long as I can remember. As I’m battling my latest asthma flare-up, Diane and I discussed last night how grateful we are for medical staff and prescription drugs. I’d have been a goner as a child and several times as an adult.

But, I’m not here to write about my friend or myself. In fact, I’m stopped in my tracks over all of the illness that surrounds my little world. And, this is just my little world. I know a lot of people, certainly. Not Facebook “friend” level with hundreds or even thousands, but certainly at least a few dozen, some extremely well and some not quite as well but all of whom I would say we care very much for one another.

Is your world like this?

A partial list of the illnesses in my relatively small circle.

Stage 4 brain cancer. Stage unknown as yet, brain cancer. Late stage multiple sclerosis. Debilitating rheumatoid arthritis. Not quite debilitating rheumatoid arthritis. Left side paralysis in a thirty something old from a twenty something benign brain tumor operation. Lung transplant survivor. Breast cancer survivor. Stage 4 breast cancer struggling. Prostate cancer survivor. Three family members alcoholics in long time recovery. One family member an alcoholic but not in recovery. A grand nephew who just entered rehab for addiction. A gifted collegiate athlete, the younger son of my oldest friend, suffering from two rare conditions that have him sidelined and in great pain, unable to compete. My niece, another gifted collegiate athlete, who has lived with intense pain every day since a small girl. A sister whose ex-husband was abusive and who died from alcoholism at a relatively young age. Her son, my nephew, bipolar with a history of serious behavior issues. My cousin, a debilitated schizophrenic. Multiple people suffering from depression, some serious. Our son, who inherited some of the same unfortunate predilections as I. Two amazingly accomplished, caring and loving men, one of whom is now completely disabled, suffering the ravages of Alzheimers. The mentally deranged son of a very sweet woman we know who is involved as a leader in one of our long-standing ministry projects, stabbed her in the back on Thursday, puncturing her lungs. While extremely serious, she will live, although deeply scarred, both physically and emotionally. Horrible. The only child of our very good friends who is a mentally ill drug addict, in and out of jail and recovery programs constantly. She’s only 25. This list does not include some really good friends who have died in the last two or three years from insidious diseases.

I know I’m missing some things.

I started this blog two years ago because of a bizarre anomaly at the base of my brain. For awhile, we lived with the knowledge that this could be it. As I mentioned before, I’m not unused to illness, a number of them very serious. When I struggle to get oxygen into my poor lungs at times, it’s frustrating but I know that there are therapies and options that will normally get things up and running soon. In the cases above, some of them are not so fortunate.

It would be a mistake to read this message and come away depressed. While natural, that’s not my hope.

I guess I have two points to make.

One is that this stuff is life. I cannot be a rarity in that I am just peculiarly surrounded by sick people. Sure, I’m now getting into my mid-60s and of an age where more and more people get sick and even die. So, in my age cohort, you’d expect to see an uptick. But, a number of these people are younger than I, by ten, twenty, thirty and more years.

Still on that point, I think part of the reason I’m close to these people is that I’m close to these people. I don’t live in a bubble. I live a life where people are open about the challenges they face and where sharing those challenges is a key element to maintaining certain kinds of health, beyond the physical. I wonder about people who don’t come into contact with the people I described in that list above. Emotionally closed in. Focused on self and feeding the needs of the self. Captives, in a sense, to the temple of their own making.

I know of people who serve the most ill, the most disenfranchised, the poorest of the poor. They are surrounded by disease and/or violence and death. I know of other people who use the word “party” as a verb and it defines their lives. Grown people. We are a fascinating species.

As I was contemplating some of these things last evening and night (the latter of which was elongated by my latest bout), it was not with an overly heavy heart. As I just said, this is the stuff of life.

Which brings me to my second point.

What’s the flip side? Or, as I referred to in the title, what’s the antidote?

How do we who are ill and those of us who love and care for those who are so ill, go about leading lives that flourish, despite what sometimes seems as overwhelming conditions?

Is flourishing even possible?

And, the answer is yes. It is. I am, right now, picturing the faces of three different women I know whose suffering is acute. Deep down into the bones and sinews acute. Their physical challenges, including pain, disability and even threat of death are the fabric of potentially every waking moment. But, I have seen those faces filled with great joy. I have heard their beautiful laughter. I have witnessed how they each reach out in love to help others. Their lives are lived in that world unknown by so many people, including both the suffering and those who have remained relatively healthy. Others who know these women, marvel at them. They are like walking miracles of resiliency and a living testimony to how we should prioritize our lives.

I could say the same about many others on that list. Not all but many. The default when these kinds of things rear their ugly head is to retreat. Retreat into anger, self-pity and the inevitable question, “Why me?” I am grateful that I don’t really suffer from those thoughts but I completely understand them. Perhaps it’s because of my history and the knowledge that life is truly fragile. Security and safety are fictions. Until they’re not but that’s a different kind of security that is definitely not safe.

What is the antidote? Is it available? To answer the second question is, yes. The answer to the first question is more difficult but anyone who has read these pages, knows what I think.

I’ve given the answer many times before but here I’ll give it again and maybe in a little bit of a different way. The answer is to Repent. No, I don’t mean that grungy guy on the street corner crying out “Repent!” I mean to do what the word says. Re-pent means to re-think. Re-structure the way we look at ourselves, our predicaments and the things we truly value. When meaning is arrived at in a place that transcends the cells of our body and the things that attack those cells, a re-orientation can occur. Put in the right place, the amazing qualities of Trust and Hope blossom in the midst of mud and darkness. In fact, I can testify that this is where Trust and Hope flourish the most. They flourish where Disease and Despair seek to claim our attention and allegiance. And, where Trust and Hope reign, Love is the antidote. A love that is unconditional. Love that is a promise and a cure for all that ails.

I have seen and experienced love of many kinds, for which I am grateful beyond words. I have also known the lack of love. I have seen how we can be ravaged by the forces of illness and violence and what it does to the human spirit. I have also seen and experienced Grace that intervenes and twists those forces upside down. I have seen how these things I’m mentioning: Trust, Hope, Love and Grace have transformed lives in the most profound ways. And, finally, as one of the women I mentioned above shares, there is Peace.

Yes, these circumstances I’ve mentioned have torn lives asunder. They have forced these people to live with pain and defeat. Each one of them is sometimes desperate for relief or a cure. But, for some of my friends who are on my heart and in my mind’s eye right now, whose cases are noted above … I know not a one would ask for healing at the expense of losing the Trust, Hope, Love, Grace, and Peace that are at the very center of their lives. Not in a heartbeat.

And, that’s the antidote.

God bless.

I have a close friend, with whom I disagree on one thing. He commonly uses the phrase, “It’s all good.” You have to know him to understand why he says this. He’s nearly always full of hope and his disposition is cheery. He’s enormously generous and caring. He loves his wife, adult children and grandchildren. He gives of himself to others, as acts of service are a fundamental part of his everyday life. I forgive him this one error in his judgment. In fact, it’s not all good. Some of it is bad.

But, today, on the sixth day of Anno Domini 2018, there’s no better moment to consider, again, how we look at good.

I’m not at all a fan of new year’s resolutions. No offense to those who gear up for this sort of thing, but to me it’s a bit artificial. If it’s important to take on, I think any day is as good as any other day to go about such business. I’d rather be resolved to do little things all of the time in a way that they don’t end up requiring all that much thought. In other words, integrate them into the fabric of life, like having two good cups of coffee in the morning.

Bad habits are often hard to break and acquiring good new habits can also be challenging. Which is why, to me, small steps and short term goals are really the key. Resolving to lose 10-15 pounds or more can be daunting when compared to eating a bit more fruits and vegetables. I still don’t drink as much water as I should.

I’m not saying anything that everyone doesn’t already know. But, that brings me to the point.

How hard is it to bless someone today? How hard is it to wake up in the morning with that resolution? Every morning.

This topic is not a stranger to these pages.

So many people go about their daily lives, seemingly in bubbles of their own making. I’m somewhat of an observer of human behavior because it fascinates me. I find myself wondering about people’s stories. Perhaps that’s because I’m an armchair historian and people’s stories are the makings of history. But, back to the bubbles. Think about it. The hustle and bustle of life, going from one thing to the next. Some of us are fortunate enough to have daily contact with a number of people we care about. Family, friends, coworkers and so forth. Others, perhaps, not so much.

Which brings me to strangers.

Our contact with strangers is usually brief and uneventful. We’re with them in an elevator. Standing in line. A quick interaction with the clerk at check out. The ubiquitous “Hi. How are you?” “Fine, how are you?” Rote and largely detached. Both the question and answer are, you have to admit, largely meaningless, as is the overall interaction. Maybe we have slightly more interaction with the waiter or waitress at the restaurant, as they greet us, take our order, serve us our food and, later, bring the check. Of course, some people don’t like being bothered while out and about. As I said, a bubble.

Diane and I were having an early breakfast at our Best Western hotel outside of Tucson last Saturday. A nice lady came to serve us. She was quick with the coffee (always a great touch!) and sweetly offered to substitute home potatoes for the fruit bowl on my order as I’m allergic to melons. I asked her name, Mary Lou, and we left sometime later after hearing her remarkable life story. She did not push it on us but replied to some prompts as she came and went and I left marveling at the opportunity to get to know her, even just a little and for a brief time. We will never see her again but our collective worlds were enlarged. It took no effort and the reward was tangible.

I am not a social media person but I read about it and how it is changing human relationships. We no longer enter into conversations of any real merit. There is a lot of exchange of information in small bits and pieces. A lot of information, followed by lots of comments and likes and the sorts. I’ve read that many people spend hours and hours each day online, reading, writing and commenting with dozens or hundreds of “friends,” without having any type of real and deep relationship. No real smiles, just emojis that offer a “virtual” reality to replace actual body language. Now, mind you, I am guilty of this in a smaller way. I use about three emojis and actually just developed a “bitmoji avatar,” which is kind of fun. But, in the absence of real human interaction on a regular basis, these virtual environments are sadly deficient.

We can either be an agent of good in this world or not. Most of us try to be the former, yet know we fall short too frequently. What greater good is there than to bring value to the life of another? To extend some form of love, grace or hope to someone, even if they are a stranger? Lives lived in bubbles are lives lived in isolation, just another version of imprisonment. Overstated? Perhaps. But I don’t think I’m really off base by much.

The antidote is simple. Smile. Ask a question other than “How are you?” One of my common ones to service workers is “How have the customers been treating you today?” Refer to them by name if they have a name tag. If they don’t have a tag, ask them their name and thank them by name. Greet the custodian sweeping outside of the building and thank him or her. I’ve been amazed at times of what can develop from a simple little overture.

Of course, when we invest of ourselves in relationships, we open the door to opportunities for goodness on deeper levels.

But, for now, what would the answer be if, at the end of the day the question was, “How did an act of goodness on your part today touch the life of another?”

Happy New Year