I’ve known about Connie for over ten years now but I’ve only really come to know her relatively recently. I seem to be in a minority as seemingly everyone knows Connie. For the longest time, she was the wife of my good friend, Rex, a founding member of our Monday morning men’s small discipleship group. Since both Rex and Connie joined our now-branded Little Band of Believers Friday morning prayer group at Susan’s house, Connie’s place in my mindset has evolved. She is the same person I’ve long heard about but with a richer and fuller presence to me.

If you want to understand Christianity, you really need go no further than to be with Rex and Connie. Because Rex by nature is reserved (albeit with one of the best quick wits and impish smiles of anyone I know!), it is easier to write about Connie, so I will. I cannot call Connie reserved.

I bring them (and her) up because to me they represent the fullness of the Gospel … that Good News describing the alternate reality I’ve frequently mentioned. Particularly, what it means to live out on the edge of faith where life can be both terribly daunting, yet full of abundance.

Without question, they have known extreme suffering. I have been around suffering … violence, disease, abuse, heartbreaking loss … and I am close to people who endure suffering. Theirs is the thing of people’s nightmares. Of course, meeting or being with them, you would almost never know it. More on that as we go.

They lost their only child, son Todd, to suicide as a young man 12 years ago. Todd, by all accounts, was a wonderful person who, unfortunately, suffered from mental illness. He was talented, friendly, and committed to improving the world around them. No one who has not lived through it can understand what Rex and Connie endured back then and what they continue to endure.

While I will be off on the specifics, I know the basics about Connie’s disease. She was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis many years ago and it has become progressively worse. Her body, at just-turned 65, is now very frail and she is wheel-chair bound and extremely dependent upon Rex and others for her basic needs. Daily living is obviously immensely challenging and beyond the scope of most everyone’s normal existence.

The two of them do not hide these outward and inward frailties from others. In fact, they founded an organization called Community Alliance for Healthy Minds as a means to raise awareness and support those who suffer mental illness and face the reality of suicide. Up until very recently, they also served as music ministers at the local church where we meet on Monday mornings.

On the flip side, it would be difficult to imagine a more radiant face than Connie’s. Her smile should be pictured next to a caption that reads, “Full of Delight.” She laughs with spontaneous ease and her eyes dance. Her gaze picks out everyone in the room and one instantly knows that we matter to her. Assuming she reads this, she will probably be embarrassed and insanely quick to point out her many flaws (imperceptible to the rest of us).

When Connie sings (her disease has somewhat diminished her vocal capacity but we should all be so fortunate to sing like she does!), it is from the deepest places in her heart and with the utmost conviction. When she prays aloud or picks a verse from scripture out of her mind, it is with that same conviction. There is nothing perfunctory about what she brings to the table.

While we all are very well aware of the challenges Rex and Connie have faced and continue to face (Rex has a whole passel of his own physical challenges, only magnifying the difficulties of being an around the clock caregiver), we were unused to hearing about Connie’s most recent battle. You see, this was and is a battle of the spirit. This angel of a woman who demonstrates such a deep knowledge and association with God has admitted the presence of dark swings. There is a crack in the edifice of faith. And, it’s in this crack where we delve more deeply into the mystery and wonder of that faith.

Biblically, the outward cry out that announces suffering is often termed a lamentation. In Judeo-Christian language, these lamentations express grief and loss and are frequently directed towards God, not infrequently in anger. These are people who believe but can’t manage that belief at the moment. The lamentations can rise from deep within and burst out with anywhere from simmering to terrible force.

Connie very recently went through such a spell after falling repeatedly, hurting herself even more, and having to continue to come to grips with the state of her disease and body. As we discussed this, she sent me a song or psalm she wrote some years ago, in the format of the psalmists who wrote thousands of years ago. With her permission, I include it here.

A Prayer For Falling (Psalm of Lament)

O Lord, my strength, my Sustaining Arm that rests beneath me at all times.

I have seen Your faithfulness as You have strengthened my weak knees and kept me standing upright in Your presence.

But I have also experienced Your silence as disease has scraped me raw and left my legs flailing in space as my balance weakens and wavers.

 

As I fall over and over again, my heart and soul cry out to You. I breathe Your name but my voice echoes back in a silent void.

Where are Your everlasting arms—the arms that once held me fast and secure, safe and unharmed?

My body is bruised and marked, wounded by Your painful absence.

I weep, confused and frightened. Have I grieved You with some arrogance?

Have I walked proudly and am getting the discipline I deserve?

Where is Your mercy when I stumble? Have You forgotten the way I take?

Do You even see me, laid out on the pavement?

 

I hear the Spirit of God, whispering tenderly through my groanings—

“I see you, stumbling one. I, too, am broken by the fall, the fall of all mankind.

I understand the swelling blows; My head was disfigured by the crown of thorns I wore.

I’ve been knocked down again and again, curses accompanying each blow.

I carried a weighty cross and stumbled up the hill to my own death.

My feet were drained lifeless by two nails.

I fell and fell; I was bruised and marked.

My Father turned a deaf ear; I knew the crucible of His silence for one eternal moment.

 

I was broken to lift you up.

I did all this so that the ground beneath your feet would be stable and secure;

So you would step on the heights with hind’s feet;

So you would walk with feet firmly planted on the Rock.

I stumbled so you could stand.”

 

O God, You know the path I take.

When You have tried me, I will rise up.

I will stand as an Oak of Righteousness,

The planting of the Lord for the display of Your splendor.

AMEN.

You see, this piece I write is not really about Connie. It is about life in what we call the Kingdom of God. I freely admit that many people, without the faith I describe, live with dignity through the most trying of circumstances. But, honestly, the radiance in the midst of suffering, displayed by people like Connie and Susan, is nearly mind-blowing. And, the honesty on full display … of the battle that rages between supernatural joy and physical and emotional pain that may define many a day … is a quality of life that I believe is extremely uncommon.

Of course, Connie and Susan (and the two or three other friends that come quickly to mind) will say that this is what walking with God is like. He is the air they breathe and they delight when it freely flows through their bodies and gasp when it appears to be less attainable. For those of us who may live lives with fewer extremes but who do at least have connection with these kinds of realities, their examples and testimonies are beautiful gifts.

One cannot help but respond with the greatest gift of all. Love.

It seems like it’s de rigueur these days to bash America. Expose our sins. Lift them up so as to decry the faults of the grand experiment. It should come as no surprise but I’m a fan of laying our sins down and asking for forgiveness.

But, I’m also a student of history, something that is in constant flux. I have studied most civilizations, ancient, classical and modern. There is not a one that has not been punctuated by violence and viciousness. Well, at least not a one of any consequence.

As we are flawed, so is human society. We have a choice. Do we value the freedom that allows people to make choices about what to believe? Do we value community that is not enforced but is raised organically?

I’m sorry but utopia is a pipe dream. There is no perfection in human society. Neither anarchy nor strongly centralized government are the solution. After all, people are people and power corrupts. Always.

So, on this day, I celebrate the birth of an idea. An idea that a free people who treasure liberty and, fundamentally, believe that all are equal is worth pausing to give thanks. Today, we don’t criticize and search for fault. Today, we realize that this remarkable occurrence that began well over 200 years ago changed the history of the world.

Tomorrow we will mourn for our nation. For the divisions and strife that seem to daily consume us. But today we are thankful. Thankful for the minds and lives that have carved out this grand experiment. We hope that it continues to flourish and be a beacon for the rest of the world as has been its nature from the beginning. There are some days I shake my head and question what this country is all about. Today, however, I’m blessed and proud to be called an American.

My uncle died recently. We’d returned from four days up in Idyllwild on a Monday afternoon and I woke up to an email sent the night before that he was failing rapidly. The phone call came at 6:45am that he’d passed.

I waited for traffic on the I-15 south to settle a bit before heading down the 30 minutes or so to the house where he’d lived for 50 years and where I’d spent so much of my young life. On the way down, I was playing a canned Spotify playlist of soft piano music and just reflecting when a piece came on entitled, “The Space in Between.” While I didn’t particularly like the selection, it gave me some moments to reflect on the title and how I identify with my own take on the phrase. I finally figured it was time to write about it.

A space in between presupposes two different places with a mediating middle. In other words, two realities with a zone attached to each. In military terms, it’s No Man’s Land or a DMZ (demilitarized zone) that keeps opposing forces separated. In spiritual terms, it’s that place that touches both the natural and the supernatural. Of course, a dogmatic naturist who denies a concept of a supernatural could not relate. But for those of us who believe in, or at least sense, there is an “Other” beyond the state and laws of nature, we have to wonder how (if ever) they intersect.

If we stop for a moment to think about it, don’t we need to confront the possibility or fact that what we’re seeing and experiencing right now is not the whole ball of wax? Of course, science fiction plays with this all of the time. Alternative realities and dimensions. Parallel universes and such. And, there is a strong element in a thing we can loosely call eastern faiths that teach that what we see and experience is mere illusion … a thing we need to break free of in order to escape this reality and merge with the Other.

In other words, with the exception of the pure naturists, there is a whole lot of pull from humans towards recognizing that what we see is not all we get, so to speak.

So, if there’s any truth in this inclination, then we need to ask what is this and what is that? And, how do they connect?

I spent a bunch of years aways back trying to conceive of a situation where this was all illusion. I still have books on my shelves that testify to that. Oh, I can play the mind games that a table is not really a hard object but merely a bunch of molecules (like me) that just happen to be moving very slowly. Similarly, in that line of thinking, the table and I aren’t all that different, except I have consciousness somehow through some cosmic feat. No disrespect to my Zen friends but tackling koans to break through the illusion of this life just didn’t do it in the end. For me, it didn’t answer a number of fundamental questions, including the problem with evil, among other things.

So, I exist in a reality that says what we see and experience is truly real and not an illusion. But, of course, there is another reality that is just as real but far more illusive in the sense it is not so readily available … even impossibly so in its purest form.

When we accept this as fact or at least as highly probable, we have a choice. We can go about living our lives with the knowledge and habits that this is this and that is that … and maybe someday (usually upon death), I can leave this and exist in that. I suspect many people live this way. Or, we can try to engage the “that,” while living in the “this,” usually by some sort of petitioning prayer during tough times or by seeking connection in nature or by meditation and so forth. And, there’s something to be said for these things. I’m a fan.

Or, we can recognize that the “that” is right here, all of the time, in the “this” and we were designed to know and live that at the core of our being.

And, this is where the intersection takes place. Two worlds layered as one. Separate but together.

Some may describe this intersection as the Space in Between. If I were to do so, I’d say it’s not a place but a state of being. I am the Space in Between. I have reflected many times these past dozen years that I have one foot planted in this place and one foot planted in that place. The challenge is how to live that way. It’s a wild ride, to be honest.

Of course, our reasoning and our feelings tug at us constantly. We search. We examine. We may eventually conclude. Then we doubt. We question. We struggle. Answers raise other questions and, frequently, our hearts are heavy. On the other hand, there are countless blessings. We delight, we rejoice, we love. We look around and marvel. At times, the world seems to dance. Our hearts, the other day heavy, now have a lightness or, maybe, an energy that on occasion the body seems unable to contain.

The skeptics, of which I was long a card-carrying member, will reasonably conclude that this is just so much babble. Biochemistry and conditioning, some will suggest.

Diane and I have small decals on the back window of our two cars. Everyone has seen such a decal, some small, some large. It has a little cross intertwined with the letters NOTW, Not of This World. The display is a paean … a sort of proclamation of the reality we ascribe to.

I am in this world but not of it. This fact was never more pronounced or blatantly obvious than when that voice came out of nowhere into the left side of my head and said, “It’s time to come home.” As I’ve said time and time again, I’d been searching for a reality that could ultimately explain all of the nuances, contradictions, explanations and feelings that had been swirling throughout my life. Ultimate explanation is not on everyone’s Top 5 list of things to consider. But, it was on mine.

“Home” of course is where God is and where he called me to be. It is where we are meant to be together. He calls me there all of the time. Sometimes I listen. When I do, and surrender, the veil between “this” and “that” is much thinner. I have written about that before. What is remarkable (as in something to remark about or worth considering) is that to daily walk in this reality is to turn what many people think is reality on its head. Disconcertingly, this is not easy. However, easy is overrated.

With that, I’ll come back to the title of this essay and to my conclusion about a thing such as “the space in between.”

I actually don’t think I live in the space in between … a kind of netherworld which is neither fully one or the other. I think I live in both spaces, whether shuttling back and forth between them or, better yet, seeing each through the lens of the other. And that, I think, is what Jesus was trying to say. If there is a central message to his life and ministry, it is that the reality he called the “Kingdom of God” is present and available in this life. We are called to live fully here and now but in a paradigm that is radically different in nearly all respects from that which normally prevails. Yes, concepts such as we have to lose our lives to gain life are puzzling and even troubling. A few interpret that to mean we have to assume the life of an ascetic, denying even the most simplistic of pleasures. While some may feel called to that, I don’t believe that reflects the message of the Gospel. Yes, we are called to restraint and moderation for all sorts of good reasons. It is not the flesh that is bad. It is what is in our hearts and the things to which we ascribe ultimate value.

I believe it is that recognition that we are both fully fallen and fully saved that is so countercultural … so at odds with normal daily existence. And, to live within that reality, with all of the challenges, joys, sorrows, delights and struggles … to know and walk with God is to have one foot firmly planted in the “this” and the “that.” One day there will be no difference. Thank God.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I spent a couple of hours Tuesday morning with two of my favorite people: Lefty and Joanie Clark. I think I’d like for Diane and me to be them when we grow up.

Lefty just celebrated his 90^th birthday and I’m not sure of Joanie’s age, perhaps just a few years younger. Joanie has a very quick wit that is paired with a twinkle in her eye and one is never sure what you’ll get in response to a question.

They are simply a delightful pair and we have come to love them very much.

We met them through their two equally delightful daughters, Patty and Kiki, with whom we regularly gather and pray ever Friday morning at Susan’s house. Lefty and Joanie have five children and I think Diane and I may start lobbying to make it seven.

We have certainly become fast friends these past three years and they are a blessing in so many ways.

You can’t not smile and laugh when with them. Conversations about challenges they face given age and circumstance don’t last all that long and I always part company with them thinking the time was too brief.

Recently, I was invited into their apartment home in Escondido on a weekly basis. First, for Lefty to have another man to talk to (their senior complex houses far more women than men as is the norm) and, second, to chat about matters of faith that have recently tugged at Lefty’s heart. So, Lefty and I spend about a half hour alone before being joined by Joanie and we proceed together.

I can’t help but contrast this with the situation of my uncle who lives about a half hour away, is 96 and failing rapidly. He’s lived in the same house for over 50 years, a house I spent many summers in as a teenager and where I lived for several years in my early 20s. A brilliant man and former extremely popular college English professor and department chair, he has been reclusive for at least the last 30 years, widowed twice. We used to be very close and I’ll always appreciate how he looked out for me (well, we sort of looked out for one another) when I was living there after the death of my aunt, with whom I was very close. But he was never an affectionate man, living deeply within his remarkable and elaborate mind as he did. Even when he acted kindly, I was always being judged in some manner and I had it easy compared with some others. As the years went by, we actually found very little to talk about, other than reminiscing. He always wanted me to read his poetry (he was, after all, an apparently very accomplished poet) but try as I might, it was almost impossible to really understand the darn things. Now, some found him endearing and he was genuinely affectionate with his two stepdaughters and a couple of other women. On the other hand, he had an incredibly tumultuous relationship with his two sons, my cousins. After decades of dysfunction, they’ve fortunately made peace near the end. But many others found him distant. His circle is quite small and closed in.

In a conversation we had several weeks ago, he said what he’s miss the most (upon dying) would be his books and he fretted over what would happen to them. He has thousands of them and he said that they were his life. I know for a fact he has read them all, some of them numerous times. He was always naturally obtuse when it came to talk about what follows this life on earth. I know he enjoyed being that way. He said in that recent conversation that he is the most spiritual person he knows. Of course, I don’t believe he knows that many people any longer and I would hardly call him spiritual in any true meaning of the word.

I saw him last night, probably for the last time, as I’m currently up in the mountains and I doubt he’ll survive more than a couple of days. He requested no memorial. He leaves very little legacy and will be missed by only a small handful of people.

And herein lies the contrast and the point I’m led to make.

I suspect Lefty and Joanie would miss their children and grandchildren. And, when it’s their time (hopefully not soon!!), they will leave behind quite a legacy.

It is the contrast of head and heart, a struggle far too close to home for me but one that must be engaged.

Now, I know that my 96 year old uncle has a heart because I’ve seen it and experienced it, as have others. But, it a far inferior organ to his mind. And, without question, Lefty and Joanie are two very bright people, extremely knowledgeable and sharp as tacks late in life. But, it is their hearts that leap out.

I grew up with a strong heart that (in hindsight) was somehow always coming in second place to the life of the mind. I grew up in the shadow of people like my uncle, rather than with the warmth of people like Lefty and Joanie. Fortunately, my father mellowed a great deal with age and we became incredibly close in his latter several decades. But, my interior battle raged and it’s only been in the last ten years or so that its essence has been clear.

And, that essence is contained in the reality that one of my favorite people, Tim Keller (writing in a book about the Gospel of Mark), describes as The Dance.

You see, a Christian buys into a startling picture of things that has a very unique God at the center. A lot of people have God, or a god or some form of spirit, at the center. But only Christians have this thing called a Trinity. It was certainly a difficult thing for me to swallow for so many years. There’s one God but he or it is in three persons? Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Three in one. Not polytheism or many gods. Only one God but in three persons. Yes, persons.

What a challenge to wrap our heads around that!! One of the great obstacles to my search for truth. Like the problem with evil. But, then the blinders fell off and it all made sense. Yes, I’ve looked at it time again from many different angles but it always holds up.

Keller says the very essence of God is a loving relationship. Many Christians (and some others) tend to think of God as equivalent to Love. But we view it as God loves us. We don’t view it as God loves “themselves.” Think about that!

Keller, Lewis and so many other Christians have reflected on the nature of the love that exists between Father, Son and Holy Spirit. It is a dynamic, exciting, infinitely rich and joyful love. Keller calls it a Dance and he says it is the very essence of reality.

If he is right and I believe he is, then we are made to live in that reality. That Dance. It is said that we are created in God’s image. I’ve struggled a lot with that, trying to figure out what that means (if indeed it is true, which I believe it is). Is this a physical thing? Over the past dozen years, I have come to realize a deeper understanding of what it means to be created in the image of God. It means to live in loving relationship with him and others, among other things.

We can build all sorts of castles in our minds or in our lives. We can achieve all sorts of objectives. Learn all sorts of things. Chase who knows what? Material advantage? Fame?

If the Christian story is true, then love is the purest of things. Love in its most vivid and dynamic sense. It is Joy. It is Grace. A Dance that does not let go but invites and never ends.

I gaze in they eyes of Joanie and Lefty and they glitter. They glitter with both remembrance and future possibilities. They warm my heart and make me smile and laugh. Joanie looks at Lefty and, as we talked about all of this, she raises her hands and snaps her fingers as in rhythm. She wants to dance.

I gaze in the eyes of my uncle and there is largely emptiness. No promise. What was left unaccomplished?

Two competing realities. Which is true? I’ve made my choice.

 

 

 

 

 

 

It is a good thing to get away. Getting away is good for perspective. Diane and I have been blessed these last four years to journey to places that were out of reach while working. Of course, our jobs gave us remarkable perspective into human nature and the many arrays of joys and challenges all sorts of people commonly face. We still have that, fortunately, in the life we choose to lead. But getting away is definitely good.

Costa Rica seems to be a place held in high regard for North Americans. Latin America can be an iffy thing in some locations but Costa Rica apparently sits apart. It is one of seven countries in Central America, that narrow corridor separating the massive continents of North and South America and the two massive oceans of the Atlantic and Pacific. The region is not known for stability. Costa Rica’s six Central American neighbors are Guatemala, Honduras, El Salvador, Nicaragua, Panama and Belize. Some of these other countries are historically very unstable and the homes of brutal dictators and terrible civil wars. Costa Rica has managed to stay above the fray and has known tremendous peace. In fact, they have no military. At all. They are like an unarmed neutrual Switzerland which, you may know, is extremely armed. It is also a beautiful country with very pleasant people. While traveling a bit, we did see poverty like we’d see in Mexico but we saw no guns, only one or two police cars, almost no graffiti, and friendly people everywhere. In fact, as we were told, the country continues to rank in the top three happiest countries in the world.

Their slogan is Pura Vida. Pure Life. It is like a universal greeting. You hear it constantly. It is cheerful and uplifting. One cannot say it with a frown. It does not ring hollow like that constant exchange we hear: “How are you?” “Fine.” To exclaim, “Pura Vida,” is to speak a celebration, actually. It’s a recognition of what is important and fundamental. It calls into the moment the fact that we are connected and it is good.

While there, we seemed to be surrounded by happy and very pleasant people. Of course, we were tourists and could only see a protected side of things but we have talked with enough people and have read enough to know that that what we experienced was not just a show. We always try to learn a bit about the people who serve us in our travels, be they waiters or taxi drivers or tour guides: Their history and families. You can’t not like Costa Ricans.

One of my great joys was to hear Diane speak with so many people in Spanish. While I can’t understand 99% of what they said … and they spoke at light speed, of course … I just sat back and marveled. They invariably looked over at me and asked if I spoke any Spanish (and I could tell when they asked that!) and then commiserated with her about how and why I could be married to such as she and be so deprived. They also marveled at the quality of her Spanish and asked her how she learned it so well. In English they told me she speaks as a Latina, a very high compliment. I’m a very proud husband.

One of my other great joys was realizing early on that no one asked about or seemingly cared about American politics. While I followed some of the news via the internet, the world of anger and strife and personal attacks and overall toxicity that is the norm these days in the First World, might as well have been on Mars. We made friends with a lot of people. A couple from Chicago, he has worked the past 30 years as a conductor on the CTA trains. A couple from Brighton in southern England. A young woman and her best friend from South Carolina. Couples from D.C. and Mississippi. White people. Black people. Brown people. Young people and old people. No one talked politics. No one expressed anger. No one threatened to defriend someone on Facebook.

Pura Vida.

Of course, it can be argued that the political life is a necessary life. We cannot stick our heads in the sand and ignore how forces are arrayed in the landscape. Power is. And the political life is a natural response, whether for good or evil. It is so woven into my DNA that I suspect it will always have a hold on me and that is not a completely bad thing. But, I resist its seductive draw … its pull to a place that can turn a soft heart hard and to drive a wedge between the thing easily seen and the thing not so easily seen.

And, so, I’m grateful for this past week. For the reminder that life can be so much more than that contained in the western modern mindset. For the reminder that life in a pure state is a place for joy and celebration. To our new friends to the far south: We will miss you and thank you for the time we spent together.

Pura Vida!

Now, this is certainly not a cheery topic. Nevertheless, I believe it’s an essential topic and something I’ve definitely touched on before. Basically, what’s the deal with evil?

For starters, Evil (I will capitalize it when using it as a noun as opposed to an adjective) increasingly has a bad name. And, not a bad name because it’s a bad thing but because it’s seemingly so passé in modern sentimentalities. Much more so than, say, God or even Christianity. Many people who believe in God or Christianity are dismissive of Evil for all sorts of reasons. I don’t intend here to dig too deep into all of this, although I might at a later date. However, I do think it’s worthwhile for us not to ignore the thing, whatever that thing might or might not be.

I’ll start with a paraphrase of I think it was C.S. Lewis (couldn’t find it in a quick search and don’t want to be distracted by looking through all of my books) who said, “It would be a mistake to think either too much or too little of evil.” Feel free to enlighten me if one of you find the source and exact quote. I’ve always liked this in the last eight or ten years since I first heard it. In other words, the thing exists. We can either be consumed in focusing on it which would distract us from so many other worthy things or we can ignore it, which will only cloud our vision of what is real. So, we must confront the thing but not allow it to dominate our thoughts.

Yes.

In the modern mindset that says science is God and nature is Supreme, there can be no evil. Is a lion evil for slaughtering an antelope? Is a great white shark evil for attacking a surfer? Of course not. In the post-modern mindset that says truth is what each of us feels and no one truth is greater than another, evil is in the eye of the beholder. A terrible act committed by a vicious group or person can be justified if we only work backwards to socially construct the reality they’ve lived under that brought them to commit that act. It’s all explainable by conditions. There is no transcendent Evil in either the modern scientific/naturist view nor in the post modern relativist view.

They both have good arguments which is why so many people believe them and why the concept of Evil is not in vogue, at least in western societies. We’ve moved beyond that. Let’s talk, instead, about yoga and it’s cleansing properties. Now that’s worthy of normal conversation in social circles. But, a “What do y’all think about Evil?” as a conversation starter is tantamount to dropping you know what in the punch bowl.

Allow me to backtrack a bit. When I think of the grand questions that face or should face every person when it comes to trying to figure out reality, here are a few of the biggies:

1. Is there a supernatural that is beyond all bounds of what we can describe as natural?
2. If there is, is there such a thing as an all powerful, all knowing being that has some form of consciousness to know who I am?
3. Can I have a personal relationship with such a being?
4. What happens to me when I die?
5. If I’m not just particles and chemistry that merely cease to exist upon death, does my life here have any impact on my existence after I die? And, if so, what’s the deal with that?
6. Is there any sort of absolute truth that underlies what is good and just, as well as what is bad and unjust?
7. If the answer to 6 is either yes or I’m not sure, is it ok to consider the source of those two things? And, if so, is it possible that there is supernatural Evil?
8. If it’s possible that there is supernatural Evil, what do we make of it?

There are, of course, other questions but these are some starters.

Now, I’ve read a whole lot of books by some very bright people on this and related topics. I’ve read the scriptures of the Christians, the Hindus, the Buddhists, and the Jews. I’ve read the Romantics, the Transcendentalists, the Nihilists, the Pragmatists the Existentialists and the Atheists. I’ve read Hobbes, Rousseau, Tolstoy, Hugo, Dostoevsky, Marx and Mao. I’ve taught more than a few. I’ve studied, in part, the histories of the ancients.  Of Chinese civilization. Indian civilization. Egyptian civilization. Japanese civilization. The Fertile Crescent. African civilization. The Greeks and the Romans. The Ottomans. Indigenous peoples in North and South America. Australia. I’ve studied the period in Europe we refer to as the Dark Ages and I’ve studied the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. I have a passing knowledge of Russian history, French history, British history, Germanic history and American history. I’ve studied the economies, political systems, social systems and important military events in many of these, especially in the last two hundred years. I’ve read numerous books on theology by current and former thinkers. I’m not saying this to boast. In fact, just the opposite. I feel relatively inadequate to comment on this topic as I lack tremendous expertise in any of these areas. For that, I defer to others. However, I’m trained as an observer of things, with an eye to find out what is going on behind the curtain. To discover meaning and essence when things are not particularly obvious on the surface.

With all of that out of the way, here are my comments.

I believe Evil is real. It’s powerful and insidious and personal. Evil is the opposite of Good and it’s not just a straw man by which we can look at and try to understand Good. I have seen it from a distance and I have seen it up close. I have felt Evil. In a world with no absolute truth or meaning, Evil is impossible as it carries great meaning. In the post-modern mind that says everything is just social construction: Good, Bad, Race, Gender, Behavior, Purpose, Meaning and so forth, values rest solely in the eyes of the beholder and disappear as mist apart from that. In fact, the only absolute truth (and, ironically, there is an absolute truth in this absolute-truth-defying mindset) is the charge that we must tolerate everyone else’s values. Of course, there is the single exception of the values of those declared intolerant, whatever this new religion determines intolerance to be. It is no small leap to understand that in the religion of Tolerance, it is an absolute truth that the rejection of relativism is Evil. Now, that’s a neat little trick.

With all of this out of the way, let’s cut to the chase. If there is absolute truth, which there is and if Good and Evil are opposite forces and each have a source, which they do, and if these things are important for us to consider (see the numbered points above), then we should stop avoiding the conversation. We should pay attention. We should consider the character of Evil. We should consider the objective of Evil. Oh, you might ask, how do we know that Evil has an objective? Well, that’s a very good question.

My answer is that for Good to be Good, it has to be rational. There has to be a source that makes sense. It comes from somewhere. If it doesn’t come from somewhere, then there is no such thing as absolute good and we’re back to the nihilists, the existentialists, the atheists, the post-modernists. Good luck with all of that. Likewise for Evil to be Evil, it has to be rational and have a source that makes sense.

Pick your poison, so to speak. Some folks just don’t want to go here for good reason. It requires a leap that can be, at a minimum, uncomfortable. At a maximum, mind-blowing.

I’ll cut to the chase. Others are welcome to disagree and arrive at different conclusions but I’m testifying that everything I’ve studied and observed … everything … points me to the same conclusion. And I only arrived at this conclusion through kicking and screaming and searching for any other possible alternative because I just didn’t want or like to believe it.

The source of all Good is our loving God. The source of all Evil is his Nemesis. Now, we can quibble about how it’s possible for an all-powerful or all-loving God to have a nemesis as in, “Why the heck can’t he/it just go ‘poof’ and the Nemesis is toast?” A good question, the answers to which are complicated and beyond my ability to address here. Suffice it to say, that it makes sense to me after all that inquiry I’ve conducted.

And, just as God has a purpose and we have a purpose, the Nemesis has a purpose and it’s worthy of us to consider it. It’s worthy to not let us overly dwell on it and it’s worth for us to not neglect it.

That’s enough for now.

I received an angry response from a friend after he read my post from yesterday. He blasted the hypocrisy of Christian legislators who would, one moment, listen to the message of Dr. Black at the National Prayer Breakfast and in the next vote to (in his analysis) take away the health care of “the lame, the poor, the elderly and those in great need.” He ascribed this hypocrisy to “hearts hardened by the Gospel of Christ,” as he lamented the “stench of Christianity.”

Tough stuff.

What is going on here? After thanking him for following my blog (we may run into one another only several times a year by chance), I replied that hypocrisy is certainly a significant element in Christian history and behavior. As it is in all faith traditions, including the faith of atheism.

Of course, he’s right. Hard hearts inoculate us against empathy and compassion. Hard hearts act out of anger and spite. Hard hearts are judgmental and self-centered.

But, respectfully, he’s wrong. The Gospel does not harden hearts. The Gospel is the “Good News” that softened hearts are available for the taking. The Gospel is about grace and love and the reality that we are not just random particles but have meaning and purpose and “here is what those things are.” The Gospel is antagonistic to legalisms and self-centeredness (pride), to contemptuousness and an over reliance on earthly power. The problem is not the Gospel. The problem is not the central Christian message. The problem is us.

The problem is stridency across the spectrum; the breast-beating that lifts the status of the shouter to that of a warrior whose aim is power and authority. Instead of holding up a mirror that can (in an opposite fashion to that of the wicked witch in Snow White) have us realize our own grave inadequacies, we see nobility of self, with our purpose organized around that view. And that is the wellspring of hypocrisy. Show me a so-called Christian on the right who hard charges against gays (not just opposing gay marriage on principle) or the so-called Tolerant on the left who spews hate in the name of love and you serve up hypocrisy on a platter.

Just as Jesus wept for his people (the Jews), he weeps for us now as many skew his life and message to a point of serious distortion. It’s not surprising of course. As I mentioned just a few days ago, Christianity (now a religion but really just a response to the Gospel) is absurd. No wonder we mess it up!

So, whose fault is that? God’s? Some would say yes.

If you’re a follower of the nihilist Friedrich Nietzsche, you’d have to say it’s our weakness in believing something so ridiculous … succumbing to the mind-numbing mythology that says we are not or cannot be superhuman beings. If only we could unleash our potential. If you’re a follower of Sartre or Camus, of the existentialist line of thinking, you’d have to say it’s our distortion of the reality that there is no meaning in life. We are merely here to exist.

The Gospel is all about truth and grace and love. It’s about a reality that includes justice as well as forgiveness and redemption. These are virtually impossible values to live out fully even if we profess them to be accurate. The Gospel and the core teachings of the faith also explain a lot about the nature of these impossibilities and what we should do about them. To say that believers of this reality are hypocrites is easy because of course we are. But to have high ideals and fall short is not to condemn the ideals but to condemn something else … perhaps the subject of another essay.

My friend is a very bright and lovely man. When our paths cross, he greets me warmly, with an engaging smile. He is now into his mid-80s but you wouldn’t know it. He is spry and full of energy. He is honest and forthright, including about his own failings and struggles over his long and fascinating life. He is not pompous but charming and I am always glad to see him.

It’s a shame that he sees my lodestar as a source of so much that is wrong in the world. For that, I take responsibility and will continue to make every effort to disavow him and others with similar beliefs from that perspective. God help me.

Speaking of prayer, I can just say, “Wow!” Our friend, Patty (nicknamed Stalker Patty Miller or SPM because she just won’t let go of people in need) told me this morning at our weekly Little Band of Believers prayer time to check out the attached YouTube.

As some of you know, every year, there is the National Prayer Breakfast, attended by many, many people in and out of government and by dignitaries from around the world. My friend Ken was one of the keynotes there a year ago.

They keynote this year was Barry Black, retired naval admiral and chaplain of the U.S. Senate. What an appropriate and powerful message, start to finish; including his own story. It’s somewhat long at 26 minutes but please try to stay until the end, if you can.

Blessings,

Brad

So, my friend Gary raised this question over breakfast a couple of days ago. Now, this is a guy who may pray more than anyone I know. He does it first thing every morning and it isn’t the kind of praying which lasts a few moments or minutes. (I think he’s missed like two mornings in fifteen years.) Nor is it some formulaic deal where he repeats the same mantra every day. This is his quiet ritual conversation with God, whereby he must bring up the joys and challenges of dozens of people he knows or has heard about. Dozens. He keeps a spreadsheet so he won’t forget anyone. This is also the guy who leads a thing called intercessory prayer with a large group of hardcore prisoners every Monday. Of course, he also prays throughout the day.

And, he asked me to consider why or how prayer actually works. Now, that’s integrity.

A lot of people far more gifted than I have thought about, studied and written tons on this question and I’m not even going to try tackling it in any depth. If you’re reading this, that should make you happy. I know these posts can go on way too long.

I answered his question right away with a question in return, “So, you mean like why … with hundreds of loving people praying last year for Shannon and me … both of us turning gravely ill at about the same time … both of us committed Jesus-followers … did Shannon die and I was miraculously healed? You mean like that?” And he said, “exactly.”

Gary had prayed his heart out for Shannon, without ever meeting her. As he does daily for Susan. What’s the deal? Does God really answer prayers? Does God sort of look up from his business and say, “Yeah, I think I’m going to grant that one. But, nah, I don’t think I want to grant that other one.” What kind of calculus is going on here?

It’s interesting. For the atheist, this is just stupid incantation. We might as well be thinking we’re Samantha, on the old TV show, Bewitched. You know, wiggle your nose and, poof! Gets a lot of laughs and maybe a few “I kinda wish I could do that.” But, we know it’s just fantasy. For some who may not know what to believe, prayer can’t hurt. Maybe we’re all connected by some energy field and, just maybe, that energy field/universe will respond in some positive way. A lot of people don’t mind when you ask them whether you can pray for them if they’re facing something difficult. Some, however, are offended.

On the opposite end are those we (in the prayer business) call Prayer Warriors. And, I tell you, they are something to behold. I’m not talking the televangelist caricature. These folks have deep empathy and connection with people and lives around them and are pretty constantly giving voice to the things that matter. What hearts of love they have! What capacity to see beyond themselves as they take a back seat to “lift up” so many others.

So, what’s actually going on? Does prayer actually mean something? Does it change things? Does it affect outcomes?

I fundamentally believe the answer to each of these three questions is, yes. Prayer does have meaning. Prayer does change things. And, prayer does affect outcomes. However, exactly how that works and exactly what the impact is, is up for debate.

On second thought, maybe I’ll try tackling this a bit more at some point. We’ll have to see. In the meantime, I love the question. We might all benefit from asking the question and then searching for some kind of answer. After all, either prayer works or it doesn’t. If it doesn’t, then we are just wasting time. If it does, then maybe we need to consider what “works” means. Because, if there’s something to it, then it’s probably not a waste of time.

Now, I know that Gary believes prayer works. But I respect the question. Our faith after all, relies on reason and it’s reasonable to question its many tenets.

Like every Friday morning, our Little Band of Believers was deeply in prayer a couple of hours ago. Like every Friday morning, there was a lot of laughter and our share of tears. Of course prayer works. Amen

Unfortunately, many people are turning against the Christian worldview. Some have good reason to. Professed Christians, like nearly everyone else, can be judgmental and legalistic. Of course, that’s in direct opposition to the Gospel. On the other hand, the faith is surging around the globe. It is said (and I believe) that the Gospel life flourishes best when it is a minority or subversive thing. Power breeds complacency and even corruption. There is no shortage of examples, regardless of the viewpoints of those in charge. Jesus’ life and message are completely counter-intuitive when you peer closely. From that vantage point, they are both extremely threatening and peculiarly compelling.  The Gospel requires a shaking of the head to eradicate the cobwebs and sit up and pay attention. I’m daily amazed at its significance.

Which brings me to the reason for this post. You might remember the mass shooting in October of 2006 of 10 Amish school girls. And, the nearly unbelievable outpouring of grace and forgiveness that issued from the Amish community. The world shook its head at this display, trying to fathom what it meant. Was it real? How could this be? It was certainly not natural. Answer: Yes. There was a very good reason. And, yes.

And, then in June of 2015, another mass shooting. This time, in a church in Charleston, South Carolina. The same thing. Nine worshipping members of the Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal church slaughtered. The world looked on, first in horror and then in wonder as surviving and mourning church members and families displayed hearts of grace and forgiveness towards the murderer. Yes. For a very good reason. And, yes.

You may be aware about the vicious action taken recently on Palm Sunday against Egyptian Christians or the beheading of nearly two dozen Christians in Libya in February of 2015. I’m linking to a story about a television program in that part of the world, with the Muslim host trying to make sense of how these communities responded. I make no judgment here about Islam. The narrator could just have well been a practitioner of any of the world’s faith traditions. The point is, “How can this be?”

http://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2017/april-web-only/forgiveness-muslims-moved-coptic-christians-egypt-isis.html

Yes, these responses to horror are real. As authentic as can be. They are a direct result of lives lived as Gospel-believers. And, no, it’s not natural. It’s supernatural. Grace is not natural. In a natural world given to “natural selection,” grace has no place. Yes, Gospel Christianity is absurd. I am reminded of this every day. The Gospel was never meant to make us feel safe in our beliefs and attitudes. It is designed to turn everything upside down and inside out. Why would we want to believe in such a thing? That’s absurd!

Yes, it is and, fortunately, it’s also true.