I was at Costco yesterday afternoon and noticed the name tag on the young woman setting up to bag my groceries. It said “Photini.” I engaged her and asked if I was pronouncing her name correctly, to which she replied, “yes.” I then remarked that I could not recall coming across that name before. She informed me that it was the name of a saint. I had to ask, “do you mind telling me the saint of what?” She said it was the name of a Samaritan. I paused a quick second to make sure I heard her correctly and then asked, “the woman at the well?” She seemed surprised and said, “yes.” Curious, I admitted I didn’t know that and asked if the name was in scripture, to which she said she was Orthodox and it was in her tradition. I thanked her for sharing that and for doing such a great job bagging my groceries. I left as we were all smiles.

Driving away I thought of several things that intersected in that moment. First was how faithful God is to granting my almost daily request to put someone in my path whom I could bless, even if only in a small way. Second, of the hundreds of people with whom this contemporary Photini must interact each working day, very few probably treat her as a real person, someone of tremendous value. She has a menial job in a very large organization. She is supposed to be largely invisible in that order of things. And, third, that her name is most fitting.

In the fourth chapter of the Gospel of John, Jesus comes across a woman from Samaria, an outcast of that day, as she was drawing water from a well. He decided to engage her, asking for a drink, which was a real surprise as she knew that he was far above her station. Learned men like Jesus did not speak with lowly women such as her. Fast forward through the dialogue and Jesus says, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

The living water in Jesus’ telling is a love that is infinitely refreshing. While we can only offer smaller samples of that, those samples are life-affirming and a reflection of our design. How often do we engage strangers with the perfunctory “How are you?” without really meaning it? How often are people around us largely invisible as we go about our business? What if we regularly paused during the day at the checkout counter or in the restaurant just to smile, give good eye contact, and say more than a mere, “thank you?” What if each of us seeks to open our eyes to see people as God sees them? No one should be invisible. We are surrounded by Samaritans and we put them there each day. Jesus offers us a way to refresh with living water. Thank you, Photini, for that reminder.

My friend Paul spoke today about something he called radical generosity. I am not new to the overall topic but I appreciated how a simple use of language can help shape whole ways of thinking.

Neither of these two words should puzzle us. We all know that the term “radical” means something entirely substantial, thorough or extreme. A radical shift is a complete shift in the fundamentals. A reorientation top to bottom. And “generosity” refers to giving a lot, more than what is normally called for. Being generous also has an element of kindness attached to it. Put the two of them together and it’s worth sitting up to pay attention.

I’m guessing that most of us would not consider ourselves or our attitudes and behavior radical in any sense. We would self-describe as more moderate, not given to extremes suggested by such a fiery term. (Perhaps, though, as we become increasingly polarized and angry as a people, moderation is in the outs.)

I wonder how many of us would consider ourselves generous as a matter of practice. I’m guessing it’s somewhat dependent upon the situation. It also may be dependent upon the standard we’d assign to our own set of attitudes and behaviors.

But radical generosity? I know some incredibly kind people. Caring and compassionate. I know people who give a lot. But being giving and generous are not exactly the same thing.

So, what does this all mean?

If we consider that generosity (especially in the context of this reflection) is something beyond the norm, then we cross the line into different territory. Fundamentally, generosity is the giving away of something valuable, a sacrifice of sorts, with no expectation of return. When we give of something with the expectation of some benefit, I don’t think that qualifies. Generosity is the shift of a weight of value from us to others, presumably leaving a deficit at our end. But, curiously, the math doesn’t need to work out that way.

In the math of this world, we are called to live within something akin to the “zero sum game.” This is best described as a large pie with only so many pieces. Our job is to get the most pie. We look at people with more or bigger pieces and we covet their good fortune, thinking, “if only.” We look at people with fewer or smaller pieces and we can run the range of emotions, from pity or sympathy to indifference or scorn. Maybe, sometimes, we think, “if only.”

The math of this world is anxious about generosity. Giving something of value without expectation of return is risky business, perhaps best applied very close to home. We tend to have more control over things close to home as we manage our generosity with a careful eye. We naturally pay attention to that pie because, “well, you know.”

Let’s step out of that reality and into another for a little bit. A reality where we insert an x factor or variable into this equation that changes the whole thing. A reality where there is no zero sum and the source of our motivation shifts, even radically so. What then?

I’m talking about love, of course, and more specifically, its radical expression that we call grace.

I have written a lot about these two things. The many different types of love as well as the things we say we love but don’t actually mean “love” in the most profound sense. Grace comes along as an outlier. Simply, it’s a threat to the pie. It doesn’t make sense. It’s generosity on steroids.

An example: Doting grandparents may lavish gifts upon beloved grandchildren. These gifts may even cost more than the grandparent should spend and this would be considered quite (if not overly) generous. But, let’s be honest. Grandparents in our normal framework are supposed to be lavish and who would not want generous grandparents? There is a big love exchange and that makes the transaction appropriate. We’re on the right track here.

But, it’s a stretch from this kind of normal situation to the thing my friend Paul referred to as radical generosity. And, that’s where grace comes in to supercharge the whole thing and land us in just a plainly different place.

If we use a common definition of grace as a gift freely given but undeserved, then we need to give attention to the undeserved side of the equation. It’s not difficult to conclude that people with whom we are close … family and dear friends, for instance … “deserve” our gifts. After all, that’s what we do. But, what stranger with whom we have little or no relationship, “deserves” our generosity? And, I don’t just mean money. But time, interest and care? All of those are resources, the giving away of which create a deficit on our part. Unless.

When Paul said today that “grace motivates generosity,” I knew immediately what he was talking about. As easily as 1+1=2. Grace is the fuel that drives the generosity engine. Why is this significant?

Well, first of all we need to come to a place where we believe that a generous spirit is a righteous spirit. Where we accept that a posture of hoarding for ourselves has limited and even unhealthy ramifications. Absent that, it’s tough to think that generosity is of much interest.

But, that brings about the problem of running out of gas. Sustained generosity is difficult. Unless there’s that limitless reservoir of fuel.

I suspect if someone has never experienced real grace, it’s difficultly to comprehend how powerful a motivator it is. And, it’s not the kind of motivator that pushes from behind but, instead, pulls from ahead. The compulsion is not “I have to” but “I get to.” And, my word, that’s a world changer.

Which brings us to that radical thing. When one lives within a reality suffused with grace, then the picture changes and it is a foundational change. When each breath is a gift, as I frequently reflect, that pie disappears into the mist, to be replaced by a heart and mind tuned to another objective. It becomes natural to let go of some things the world would describe as valuable to give to others when the very air we breathe is received wondrously.

As I make my way through this life, deeply flawed as I am, I lament how far I fall short of being a truly gracious man. I seek security and safety and material well-being. Admittedly, I don’t think any of these things is wrong in and of themselves. However, to the degree they control us and prevent us from being generous, is the degree to which I  believe we are making a wrong turn at the daily fork in the road.

Our God was and is radically generous. He knows our limitations but asks us to trust him, receive his gift and be eternally transformed. I can testify that he gets the math right.

Walking through that door is a risky thing. I know. I spent year after year looking at it from all angles, sometimes from afar and sometimes up incredibly close. I sensed during all of that time that there was something wrong with all of the math. Walking through, no wonder. Radical generosity was waiting and it was and is glorious.

I am listening to Mozart’s Requiem this morning. Two things about that. First, a requiem is a Mass delivered in honor and remembrance of the dead. Second, Mozart’s Requiem is simply one of the most beautiful pieces of music ever composed. As a massive choral work, it weaves together a vast tapestry of instruments and voices that wraps one in an otherworldly cocoon. It simultaneously dives deep and lifts upwards. As a Mass, it is a celebration of things at the very edge of our existence. Unfortunately the genius composer died before completing it. Fitting.

We finished our remarkable 2500 mile road trip around this great western part of our country Friday night. I dropped Diane off at her sister’s in Yuma, AZ, before returning home on my own for a few days. My thoughts went to the last week or so.

Traveling those many miles on both interstates and backcountry two lane roads, one sees a lot and has time to take it all in.

How does such boundless beauty reside alongside such utter depravity?

I seem to be aware of them both, each day. Interestingly, as I observe the way things are and the way people respond to these things, it seems a good conclusion to divide people into two camps with respect to human nature. On the one hand are the eternal optimists. I have written about them before. These are the “if only” people. As in, if only we could engineer income equality or if only we could eradicate racism, sexism, private property ownership, overconsumption, etc… we could live in peace and be freed from violence. Star Trek: Boldly go where no man has gone before. On the other hand, we have the eternal pessimists, the “we’re doomed” people. As in, the future is Mad Max, Zombie Apocalypse, Blade Runner and so forth.

I wonder.

Within the last two weeks, we stood on the rims of deep canyons and gorges, formed by rivers over many millions of years. We snowshoed to the edge of a precipice (Diane sharply told me to stop) and marveled at the vista of the Colorado Rockies in winter spread out before us. Two days later, we traveled south down the spine of those glorious mountains as snow-covered 14,000 foot peaks succeeded one another and we could only feel gratitude.

When not in the mountains, we put in mile after mile in the vast expanse that is the world outside of metropolitan California. There, it is mesas and prairies and deserts where the motion is largely of clouds and our fellow travelers, most of whom are trucks, carrying the stuff we rely on and frequently take for granted. The sky goes forever as does the landscape. Hundreds of miles can pass by with the occasional town or settlement breaking the vast expanse that is the antithesis of bustle and stresses of normalized modern life. Each of these settlements offered promise at some point and maybe still does. I think about these spaces and the people who have traveled them through the centuries and still do so today.

Last Tuesday, we visited an operational pueblo outside of Taos, New Mexico. Some of the buildings have been there for one thousand years. No power or plumbing. Tribal members who reside there get their water from a stream that flows through their ancient village and they hunt on the hillsides and forests of the large mountains that are the backdrop to their community. This is not what one thinks of when we think of typical reservation life. The inhabitants refer to themselves as Indians and they have social and governmental structures that are in some ways no different from the ways their ancestors conducted themselves countless centuries before. Leaving there, we stopped alongside the highway to visit a settlement of homes that could have appeared on one of the planets in the Star Wars movies: Largely built of recycled materials, each home was a self-sustaining habitat/biosphere. The engineering was remarkable as was the attention to beauty and a willingness to live as “carbon free” as possible. Out in the middle of the vast New Mexico topography, with snow-capped peaks giving relief to the limitless terrain, they aptly named their community, Earthship. A large display in their fascinating little visitor’s center said that if only all of the soldiers in the world put down their weapons and took up shovels to build, we would be saved.

And, so it happened again. Another angry boy/man and life is torn apart. As a high school principal, having sat in a Taco Bell booth at the request of my good friend, the principal of Santana High School in Santee, CA, as she informed the couple that their son had died a few minutes before by gunshot at the hands of another student, I do my usual flashback when these things happen. I see the trauma, the crowds, helicopters, SWAT vehicles, endless lines of news vehicles with the raised dishes, ambulances, tears, broken people slumped on the ground, people searching for loved ones. Evil has its day and we all wonder how this is possible. If only …

So, I listen to this music in honor of the dead, as a way to make sense of this life, where beauty and depravity live in such stark contrast. Our hearts and minds search for answers and meaning as we feel our emotions swing to and fro. We go from celebration to grief in this seemingly never-ending journey. We strive to take it all in and to manufacture a coherent life.

The pragmatist in me is always searching for solutions but the older I become, the more convinced I am that the solutions we normally discover are fleeting and only leave one feeling at least slightly discomfited. No answers fit completely.

No, I am not optimistic in the face of all of this. Nor, am I pessimistic. As I’ve said many times, I find that I am now a realist who hopes.

I cannot let the evil that is everywhere for the looking diminish the beauty of the music or the things I have seen these past two weeks. Nor, can I let that beauty obscure the fact that we live in a broken world, desperately in need of redemption.

Joy and sorrow. Two distinct human expressions, more similar than they are different. Taken together, they define us and we should consider what that means. Should we lose them and devolve into a darkness that allows for neither one, we give up what is best about being human.

As I finish this reflection, the Requiem has ended and the playlist has continued into another Mozart composition, the perfectly sublime Piano Concerto No. 21. Wispy white clouds are gliding across a powder blue sky outside our front picture window, the green and colors of our garden in the foreground.

I will meet this day as I hope to meet every day. Expectant, ready and hopeful.

God, please grant me the eyes to see others as you see them, to love others as you love them, and to serve those in need. Please forgive me as I fall so far short. Thank you for your gifts of love and grace. Amen.

Awhile ago, I wrote a couple of pieces on the topic of heaven. Then, recently, one entitled,  Is There a Next Chapter? In a sense, these are all what ifs? In keeping with the theme, I’m going to do a quick dive into another side of the equation, something I’ve stayed away from until now.

While I have read and thought a lot about this thing commonly referred to as hell, I struggle with finding a place to hang my hat and say, “that’s it.” There are many reasons for this but probably the most important one is that Jesus did not talk a great deal about it and neither did other New Testament writers. This is not to say it was not mentioned or considered but that it was never the main item. That distinction goes to describing a thing called the “Kingdom of God.”

I am going to stay away from technicalities here and, instead, try to stick to broad brush strokes.

While most people in our modern society have at least a vague belief in an afterlife and most of those people believe it is at least a pleasant if not glorious place, fewer believe that such an afterlife includes the traditional concept of hell. As in eternal pain and damnation, whatever we make that out to be.

Perhaps the most commonly recognized verse in all of the Bible is in the fourth gospel, the one written by the apostle John. It can be both compelling and polarizing.

John 3:16: For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. While this particular verse was penned by John, it immediately followed Jesus’ own words in verse 15: … that everyone who believes may have eternal life in (Jesus).

On a somewhat humorous note, the only real exposure I had to John 3:16 for decades was when a whacky guy wearing a multi-colored wig would wave that large sign at sporting events. Not exactly something to get me thinking much, I must say.

I bring this up because it may be one starting point to consider the major features of a hell, should one exist in reality.

I just posted a piece on narratives and I return there briefly. While non-Christian believers in an afterlife are largely dismissive of the reality of a true hell, Christians seem to be split. In a sense, there are two competitive narratives.

An increasingly popular one largely rejects a concept of eternal damnation to a horrid place, instead choosing to bet on a God who is all loving and all forgiving. Redemption from sin (or bad deeds, lack of faith … pick your poison) is not only available but inevitable. God will not let a human suffer for eternity. This is God as Love.

On the flip side is the narrative that life with God (heaven) is only available to those who surrender to him. The alternative to that surrender is life without God. This highlights God as Judge.

What are we to do about this?

Well, I begin by not trying to make God into someone I’d like him to be. I think this is a common trap, one I struggled with for a long time and still struggle with today. I have written extensively about the character of God, something that I believe can be known, if incompletely.

I am convinced that God is both fully loving and fully judging. I can’t find a way around that conviction. In no way do I believe these two innate qualities are incompatible. In fact, I believe neither can exist without the other. (As I said  above, the God as Judge is in increasing disfavor, for reasons I’d argue have little to do with the reality of God but of how modern and post-modern people want things to be: Truth is relative, etc…)

For the purpose of argument, let’s just say I’m either correct or close to being correct. Well, then, what does that have to do with hell?

I’m not going to get all mired in theology here but just toss out where I’m leaning these days. As my friend Dawn would say when we get to theological technicalities, “Let’s major on the majors.”

For starters, I actually do believe in this complex concept called Free Will. Now, I’m not going to get down into the weeds and dissect it here because it’s a bear of a concept but I do believe that it exists in some form. In other words, we have choices and choices matter. Feel free to disagree.

Next, I believe we are hardwired to make bad choices all of the time but God is hardwired to forgive us because that’s what unconditional love does. In his own way, he wants us to make good choices, the two most important of which are presented to us in neon lights: Love him with everything we have and love one another. To the degree that we do not structure our lives around those two guiding principles is the degree to which we are drawn away from God and into making bad choices.

So, God says, “Here I am. Come to me.” And, by coming to him, we benefit from being in deep relationship with the God of creation. Let’s not skip over that too fast, either. By coming to him, we benefit from being in a deep relationship with him. Which is the whole point.

Here is where I disagree with many others (some dear friends and family included) that see a “heavenly” afterlife as somehow separate from living directly with God for all of eternity. It’s God that matters.

Another issue is the nature of eternity. We can either believe we (that thing that defines us as individuals) go “poof” out of existence when we die or we somehow live on, perhaps for eternity as is often suggested. I happen to subscribe to the notion that we are all eternal beings, made in God’s image, who of course is eternal. Now, I admit I might be partially wrong about this and we’ll now get to that.

Cutting to the chase, mainstream Christian belief on this topic is that eternity with God is dependent upon accepting that Jesus is who he said he was and that his advice is accurate. Surrender to him and we are made “right” with God and afforded eternal life.

This is very relieving to such Christians and more than a little oft-putting to non-Christians.

Some professing Christians are less attached to this conceptualization and argue there are all sorts of loopholes by which we can bypass this “surrender to Jesus” admonition and still make it.

The point is, are there conditions upon which we are offered eternal life with God? And, if those conditions are not met, what is the alternative?

This is where hell comes in.

There is this somewhat but not entirely humorous saying that “It is better to rule in hell than serve in heaven.” I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Interesting and, actually, pretty insightful as to one’s priorities and choices.

If “serving” God is seen as a grand weakness instead of as a grand opportunity, than the antithesis is to be one’s own god, ruling over one’s self and, presumably others. When Christians talk of the Fall, this is what they mean. The antithesis of God is not one who does evil but one who is a narcissist.

In fact, the narcissist by definition cannot fathom the two guiding principles mentioned above. The narcissist is consumed only by the beauty seen in the mirror. This is the grand choice.

Hell, then, is the rejection of the reality of the thing Jesus called the Kingdom of God for something seen as more fulfilling in both the short and long run.

Just as we can create our own hells on earth, we can opt for the same thing after we finish life here.

Unfortunately, these hells can creep up on us almost unawares as we pursue all variety of idols, all of which will ultimately fail in the end. Have you experienced a kind of hell on earth? Do you know someone who has?

I believe in the reality of personified Evil. The Enemy, as he is often referred to although he goes by different names. I believe we are offered an alternative to life with God and it is seductive. It is also the grand lie.

What does this other choice actually look like? I really don’t know other than that it is bleak and defeating. Is it a lake of fire, with pitchfork-carrying little devils stoking the flames? I tend to doubt that. Are there little devils? Perhaps. Is it lonely? Absolutely. Sorry, there will be no eternal feasting given that choice. That’s part of the lie.

So, yes, I believe in hell. After that, things get fuzzy.

Before concluding this, I want to get back to three major issues.

The first is whether, if there is a hell, it’s permanent. In other words, is there a point of no return? God judges and that’s that. Many people are horrified by this and it’s also a big challenge that non-Christians issue to Christians who profess a God of love.

Jesus and the New Testament writers had some things to say about this as have countless theologians, both professional and lay through the centuries. I have my thoughts but will reserve them for now.

The second is, as some imagine, whether those destined for a place without God, just sort of vanish into nothingness. I’ve heard it described as kind of like getting smaller and smaller until there’s really nothing left. Kind of akin to what atheists believe but maybe at a different pace. I don’t know.

The third is, if there is judgment, based upon the choices we make in this life, when does that happen and how does that work?

A common teaching is that our choice must be made with integrity before we die. (I won’t get into the quality of this kind of integrity right now.) Some balk at this for all sorts of reasons. I respect and understand some of those reasons.

In various places in the Bible we read of some variation of the statement, Every knee shall bow.” Plainly speaking, we democratic people are not big on bowing knees. So, it’s an interesting concept to consider. In short, however, I believe the reality described by such a statement is that we are given an opportunity to surrender to God. What “surrender” actually means and who we actually believe God is are things to ponder. When, where and how such surrender needs to occur is above my pay grade.

In the end, I believe that such surrender is the most liberating and powerful choice a person can make and the sooner the better. Fortunately, I am not in charge of those details. Reluctance to bow that knee, whether we interpret that literally or figuratively, leads us in a direction without a good ending. That’s where I’ll leave it for now. God bless.

There are certainly a whole lot of narratives at play these days. And that’s an understatement.

Narratives, of course, are stories. They are the way we organize the stuff of life to arrive at meaning. Narratives give shape and form to all of the things that make us who we are, what we care about, how we behave and make sense of life.

We learn narratives at the earliest stages of life and we never stop. Of course, we also begin constructing our own and delivering them to others about the same time. And, we never stop.

When I taught history, I worked hard on day one to dispel the notion that it was all about things like dates and a chronicling of events. Instead, it was about how we create stories of those things in a way that they inform us about the whys of life. A lot of people just want the facts, which is not a bad place to start but it’s a bad way to end. Observers or interpreters of facts should understand that the importance of those things … the meaning of those things … is the point of it all.

Honestly, until less than two years ago, I don’t think I’d ever heard the phrase, “fake news.” Maybe you had. Now, we can’t escape it. This is just another way Group A and Group B decide that their narrative is the real deal and the other’s is the false deal. It’s about true narratives and false narratives.

Actually, I think about this a lot. Not fake news, per se, but about the different narratives that proliferate and how we process them.

As a lay historian and theologian of sorts (well, ok, also an observer of things political, economic, social, cultural, scientific an so on), I am keenly interested in the role of narrative in this multicultural, post-modern, rapidly changing world in which we find ourselves.

Take for instance the concept of hero and villain. In some sense, we know what these two kinds of people are. The hero bravely quests for good. The villain is heck-bent on bad. One narrative says it’s good to differentiate these two qualities … that it’s healthy to set up these archetypes as oppositional in order to shape our cultures in a positive way.

A second narrative says there is really no such thing. Heroes are, indeed, little more than flawed individuals who may even be pursuing bad things (in the eyes of certain observers who disagree with their values and intents). Similarly, villains may only be villains because they are not understood appropriately … that their villainy is not as significant as some would imagine or it’s not their fault that they behave in certain ways. So, we have the anti-hero and the villain who we are called to root for. Happens all of the time now.

How are we supposed to make sense of all of this … especially when the information and narrative construction comes at us like an unleashed fire hydrant?

As these pages are largely about topics of faith and belief, I will head on over there for now.

Some of the voices I respect the most when it comes to those who want to influence others on the nature of meaning are those who set up a certain narrative and then seek to show its flaws … how that first narrative is misleading or flat out wrong. It was a narrative that developed legs for a variety of reasons; legs that took it further and further away from the thing that launched the story in the first place.

To cut to the chase, Christianity is chock full of this kind of thing. We can spend forever talking about why this is the case. Lord knows, people much smarter than I have done just that.

I am continually amazed when people say, this is what Christianity stands for or this is what is the most important thing about what it means to be a Christian and I think, “Where does that come from?”

Let’s take judgment for starters. Nothing like picking a small topic like judgment.

Now, everyone likes judgment. I mean everyone. (A couple of theologians who I think really have it on the ball say that this innate wiring is another proof of God but let’s not go there fully right now.) As I was saying, everyone likes judging as long as we are the judges and not the judgees. (Made up word.). Or, we like judges who look at the world as we do and enforce those values upon those who look at the world differently than we do.

So, everyone likes judgment but it gets a little dicey when it comes to that quality in an all-powerful God. Of course, if we construct God in our own image (and we tend to be judgmental) or see that quality in God as the most important component of his nature, we create or buy into a narrative that God’s judgment is his dominant feature. God becomes a pretty handy tool to sweep away all that is evil and that’s very gratifying. On the other hand, it’s always a neat thing to point the sword elsewhere, not asking how the sword is justifiably pointed inward. This issue sets up all sorts of narratives by which Christians and those who think about Christians arrive at meaning.

Since I’ve bought into the narrative that Jesus was and is who he says he is, I endeavor to listen to his voice and understand the essence of his ministry. There is no doubt that he was big on discernment, the practice of differentiating one thing from another. He also did not shy away from judging the value of certain things, most importantly the nature of a person’s heart. Try as one might, he did not go about telling people to judge one another harshly, to always be on the lookout for sin, for instance. In fact, he went out of his way to teach and model the nature of grace and forgiveness, albeit with the understanding that honest repentance plays a big role in that supernatural equation.

When we try to get to the core of the Christian faith, a faith built upon the life and teaching of Jesus of Nazareth, known commonly as the Christ, we must arrive at the knowledge that it is all about changing the narrative of who God is and who we are in relation to him. This change in narrative is essential. What is also essential is that it is the heart that needs the most change. A narrative that leads with a judgmental head and neglects the nature of a softened heart is a narrative that, although common, is not one I find to be honest and accurate. In fact, it is helpful to put the two side by side and see how they play out through the lens of the God Jesus shows us.

So, in this era of constantly changing narratives with stories piling on top of stories, it’s no wonder we are a confused people, struggling for solid ground. For one, I try to peel away the layers to find the kernels of truth often hidden from plain view. Do we pause to do that work? Not so much, I think.

I love to hear people’s stories. I love to hear what people believe is of paramount value and why they think that. I love to know the kinds of things people believe are ultimately fulfilling and why.

The story I can’t shake or find fault with is one of brokenness and redemption. Of a people who are inherently flawed, constantly in search of fulfillment … of a better place than the one we currently occupy. Of a reality defined by love, where the currency is grace. I occupy a place in that story, which will be strange to many, even oft-putting. I know many others who find a home in that story, while I know of many or more who don’t. The nature of our existence is that there are multiple narratives out there and we have the choice of which to believe. Some believe that all stories are just that. Stories like the ones we hear as children, maybe resembling things that are true but falling short in the end. I disagree. Some stories are real, as real as anything. Which narratives do we believe are real?

I know I’m late to the Brené Brown fan club. But, better late than never. Now I hear her name all of the time. People are connecting me with her famous TED talk, sending me stuff she’s written … just received a copy of a new book today by my friend Ken Blanchard, entitled Servant Leadership in Action: How You Can Achieve Great Relationships and Results, in which she is a contributor. And, today, another friend pulled up a cute little cartoon representation of a brief talk she gave on the difference between sympathy and empathy. It’ll take just a moment to check out, if you’re interested. Happy viewing.