It’s been quite awhile … that is, if anyone is still out there! As I’m sure I said or alluded to many times during those months in the first part of 2016, my writing was really a response, without a clear idea of where it was all going. In my experience, this was a response to a call and without that call, the writing would have been a chore or a kind of duty. Instead, it sort of flowed, without substantial effort other than a commitment to listening and of the time to see where that listening led. With the medical cure and the nearly simultaneous conclusion to my two years of regular work at the church … as well as our wonderful trip to Europe, the call to write sort of dried up, whatever the reason. I occasionally tried to find it but it didn’t appear. A practical way of saying this is that I didn’t find I had anything worth saying that would be of real interest to anyone else. Nor, did I find anything worth saying that I felt would help me in my own journey. I’ve wondered in the past five months or so whether there would be anything from a trickle to a flood in the future. But, I’ve been patient. 🙂

OK, with that out of the way … My friend Shack asked me the other night at a wonderful dinner with our First Friday group, if I would be posting again. He said this without any sense of pressure but it was timely. I had actually written something a week or so previously in response to a discussion in our Monday morning men’s group. The call had actually arrived unbidden. One moment it wasn’t there. The next: Hello.

Checking for understanding as we teachers do, I remember pausing briefly to see if I “heard” right. “Yes, you need to sit down and write. The words will come.” OK, I obeyed. And, they did.

I sent the resulting piece off to the group who processed it in my absence last week as Diane and I were camping at our favorite beach spot on the Camp Pendleton Marine Base. Shack’s question prompted me to consider what had happened and to see if it was time to get back on the horse, so to speak.

The message at church yesterday sealed the deal. It dovetailed perfectly with what I had written, although approaching it from an entirely different direction. Whatever the approaches were, they ended up in the same place. One again, Hello. (Sorry for the digression, but if any of you saw or remember the great first Back to the Future movie, the bad guy “Biff” would rap Marty McFly’s father on the head and say, “Hello, McFly!” as if to say, “are you getting this??” I sometimes feel that rap on my head. Good to pay attention but maybe that’s fodder for a different post.)

So, the message said, “post what you’d written. Maybe see if you have anything else to add. I expect you will.” (Another aside, this kind of exchange can occur within schizophrenia or between God and person or as some kind of internal debate, among other things. You know where I stand.)

And, here we are, dear reader.

You will have noticed the title. When this came to me yesterday, I knew it was time to get out the old (and I mean old) laptop, sit down in my favorite arm chair in our office/study and trust the process.

Because, I believe so much in the message contained in those words. They are actually pulled from one of my favorite songs, titled Beautiful Things by an artist with the name of Gungor. The lyrics are simple and the music captivating. (I apologize if I’ve shared this before.)

They articulate the Gospel perfectly. On so many levels. One can live for hours and days and years in those lyrics. What is dust and what is beautiful? How do we encapsulate both and what does God have to do with any of this?

What is the pain? What if we don’t feel much pain or see ourselves as broken? Are we open to an awareness of pain in others or to going deeper into our own lives? Why or why not? Do we seek to be made new? Why or why not?

For me to say that these simple words represent the very foundation of why Jesus came, who he is and what our lives are about is quite a challenge, I suspect.

We are reading a book by a man well known in many Christian circles by the name of Eugene Peterson. He assigned a chapter apiece to the fifteen Psalms that make up what are collectively called the “Songs of Ascent.” For those unfamiliar with the psalms, they are really songs or prayers … all 150 of them in the Hebrew bible or what Christians commonly refer to as the Old Testament. These fifteen were regularly sung by the tens of thousands of Jews as they made their thrice yearly pilgrimage up the mountain to Jerusalem (the City of Peace, as translated). They knew them by heart and they are deep and profound. These psalms hit on the fullness of life in all of its majesty and depravity. Peterson attributes a theme to each one. They include such light topics as Worship, Service, Help, Security, Joy, Perseverance, Hope, Obedience and the one that precipitated my return to writing, Humility.

Humility is a curious topic, especially in an age that elevates narcissism (its opposite) to the highest levels. Another quick aside: I would imagine that many would say the opposite of humility is arrogance but I’ll throw out that narcissism is the insidious and purest form of arrogance.

One of the problems with this topic is that humility is actually not realized as a virtue (good thing) in any practical sense by many in our modern or post-modern world. If the metric of success is achievement, then any tendency to humility is either ignored or drowned out or certainly not considered worthy of a lot of our limited attention.

Unless, of course, we’re talking about a new pope who is surrounded by opulence but comes in and wants to drive an old used car and live simply, interacting with staff as an equal. Or, for a Mother Theresa, God bless her, who lives a life of deep integrity, serving the most needy in our world. There, we explain, are model people. Wow. Aren’t they amazing! But, of course, that is them and they are different. Nevertheless, something in us connects with that … as opposed to say, the people who often grace the covers of our magazines or who say “look at me!” on reality shows. So, we play a kind of game, pulled in one direction or the other, wondering about the relative value of these lives to our own life and what they have to teach us about our significance in the scheme of things.

What is humility anyway? Is it truly a virtue, a universal good? Or, as Nietzsche argued so effectively, the greatest of weaknesses? I expressed the common joke to Diane yesterday that there are two things we should be careful about asking God for: Patience and Humility. Because he might just open the flood gates to give us a reason to be humble and patient, tough as that could be!!

(I’m thinking this may be a multi-part topic.)

Allow me to explore.

While I have dealt with this topic a lot, both in theory and practice, I just now clicked on my handy dandy little dictionary app to get a formal definition. It reads, “a modest or low view of one’s own importance.” Hmmm.  Before reading on, what is yours?

Pause.

OK. Is it something like not thinking so highly of yourself or your skills all of the time? Does it have anything to do with having deep compassion and empathy for and with others less fortunate or who are on a different economic, social or professional plane than you?

I’ll hazard that any definition will fall far short of getting to the crux of the issue. What is humility? Is it a good thing? Always? Never? Sometimes? In what cases? What does it look like and what role should it play in my life?

As we explore the topic, we can dance around the edges before diving in to get more than our feet wet.

In describing what it’s not, the very wise Tim Keller says that humility is NOT thinking less of one’s self but thinking of one’s self less. Now, there’s something to focus us.

The Bible is very complicated. I thought I basically got the gist quite awhiles ago. Pretty arrogant and naive of me. While we may point to this passage or that as uncomfortable or threatening or not in line with modern realities the thing is jam packed with deep truths. Really jam packed. Anyway, most people are at least somewhat familiar with Moses’ transcription of God’s ten commandments. The principal dos and don’ts to living a life of virtue. How many people have used them as a measuring stick to see how we’re doing? (Of course, in our current framework of relative truth, these virtues are deemed anachronistic, discarded in favor of a a morality that is self-defined and needs to align with what we perceive our personal needs to be.) But, I digress.

I bring up the Bible and the Ten Commandments because Jesus (who most Christians believe is the true God come to form in a human body)  basically said it comes down to just two things. Two foundational virtues or ways to organize our entire lives. Love God and love our neighbor (others). He actually adds some language to clarify by saying we should do the first thing with ALL our heart, soul and mind. And, we should do the second thing with the amount of attention and care we give to ourselves. Wow.

If you’re at all like me, that can kind of stop us in our tracks. As in, nice to know that’s what he’s preaching but that bar is so high there’s no way I’ll ever reach it, even if I thought those two things were actually good things. Come on. OK. I get the first one. Sort of. If there really is a God and God has something to do with love then I can see why he’s asking us to really love him … however that’s supposed to play out for someone or thing I can’t see, not to mention understand . But the neighbor thing? I don’t even like my neighbor, not that I really know him/her. And, that guy who is always running the red light or cutting me off? Or that woman who is spiteful and mean? Or that really bad guy bent in doing really bad things? Come on. Nice try but as organizing principles for my life, I have problems.

Enter Keller to give us a starting point. Contrary to my app’s definition, humility is NOT having a low opinion of one’s importance. After all, I am worthy of the most glorious unconditional love in all of creation. I AM somebody!!  Humility is not being a doormat. Humility is not being passive and allowing others to dominate me or use me. It is not flagellating myself so I can identify with worthlessness. Not in the least!!

It is, as Keller says, paying less attention to myself: What I want. What I need. My RELATIVE importance to others. In fact, we are all infinitely important and no one is greater or lesser in importance than any other.

This is where those two commandments are going. It’s what and who we are paying attention to.  And the key is love. Do we love the what over the who? Do we love the how over the who? I plead guilty.

Humility is a posture and a set of behaviors that sees us and others through an objective lens outside of us all. Without that lens, we lose perspective and our life is a battle of dominance. And, in the battle of dominance, there can be no peace. Those two are anathema.

(Another aside: Whatever one thinks about the theory of evolution … the really complicated things of natural selection/survival of the fittest … I suggest that the adoption of that particular form of biological analysis to social settings … Social Darwinism, it’s called … is one of the most abhorrent and destructive forces that mankind has unleashed. The most extreme versions have been used to support eugenics and Nazism, as well as somewhat less virulent aspects of political and economic philosophy. It’s impossible to be a social Darwinist and a believer in the Gospel or Good News. My opinion.)

All of this brings me back to the title. I think there’s a key here. We are both a pile of dust and beautiful. At one level we are relatively microscopic organisms in a vast universe and on another level we are absolutely important. It’s in the resolution of these apparently diametrically opposite things that I feel we can understand what humility is and why it’s something to think about.

Put simply, in what ways are we or our lives dust and in what ways are we or our lives beautiful? Are we connected to both?

I’m going to begin wrapping up this first installment.

There’s so much to explore here. Who am I, really? How should I view others? What is most deserving of my attention? What occupies my bandwidth of attention, however narrow or wide? And, oh, the traps. We can get so caught up with doing “good” things we miss the mark by a mile. I should know. We can even be considered “good” people by others but still miss the mark. And, here’s the thing about marks. When we set off on a journey, if it’s a really, really short one, we can be off by a very small margin on that compass and still probably arrive at or close to our destination. But, if that journey is really long … say across thousands of miles of ocean or in space or in life or eternity, you name it, being off by a small amount is not a good thing. (But, not to worry, there’s a solution, so long as we seek it.)

Humility is NOT thinking less of myself but thinking of myself less. Where does that take us?

Jesus said “whatever you do for the least of these, you do for me.” Matthew 25:40 lightly paraphrased. Who are these least and what should I be doing?

I need to admit that, while I spent nearly every day of the last 20+ years of my professional career surrounded by many “leasts,” wrestling with how to serve them in every way possible, not just their educational needs, I still struggled with incorporating the wisdom of Jesus, Keller, Peterson and others into the intimate fabric of my life. That struggle continues daily but I do it with the perfect knowledge that he makes beautiful things out of the dust.

To Be continued …

Lord, please help us know who we really are. Please help us to understand our ultimate value but in a way that we see others as you see them, not through just our own somewhat cloudy lenses. Help us understand the nature of virtue and how we can live a virtuous life, knowing we will always fall short. Help us to have the eyes to see others as you see them, the heart to love others as you do, and the hands and feet and will to bless others as you intend. Thank you and amen.

Dear Any Faithful Readers Still Out There:

Some of you have wondered if I fell into oblivion, given no posts for such a long time. Far from it. I’m deeply touched when asked if I’ll return to sharing some thoughts. This thing sort of came together quickly and became a rhythm of daily life. Basically up until I received word of the (miraculous) healing in late April. Since then, it seems like life has been a blur until this past week when my thought was, “I need to retire again.”

In no particular order, let me share this.

It shouldn’t be a surprise that from time to time I feel “called” to something. Regular readers will know where I stand on that. These calls sometimes arrive unbidden. At other times, the call arrives after a period of prayer and reflection. In this latter sense, the timeframe may be rather large. In my experience over the last ten or eleven years, I can receive the call as the most natural of things where the response seems almost effortless. On the other hand, I can receive the call as more of a trial, when surrendering requires risk and stepping out in faith.

This journey of sharing thoughts publicly certainly arrived unbidden and became a thing that did not prove burdensome, despite the amount of time I devoted to it. As I’ve related before, the topics sort of invaded my consciousness and, often, the first paragraphs formed in my mind so quickly during a moment of early morning contemplation that I had to rush to my laptop to make sure they found their way onto a page before disappearing. Themes and thoughts just cascaded and at times I felt more the role of an observer. We all have gifts. My ability to type quickly as sentences form is, apparently, one of them. Just don’t ask me to change the oil in my own car.

Well, the call to write just sort of vanished, despite my thinking that it shouldn’t. This could mean a number of things, including that I’d reached my depth. Or, it could mean that my priorities shifted somewhat.

I was asked by friends both yesterday and this morning, if I intended to continue. One of them said I at least needed the last post to be titled “Epilogue” instead of “Camping Ho!” Having said that, I’m not prepared to have an epilogue. In fact, I hope to start writing again when we return from Europe in mid July.

Did I say, “return from Europe?” 🙂  As many of you know, Diane and I leave early tomorrow morning on our long-planned and much-anticipated 21 day trip to the Mediterranean. In some form or another, this has been on the radar for at least three or four years, with commitment a full year ago. Can’t believe it’s finally here! Many of you seasoned travelers have been abroad numerous times. We’re comparative novices and so much of this is brand new. Packing strategies alone have probably taken close to the same attention Eisenhower gave in preparing for the Normandy landings. Our genius/angel travel agent, Bitsy, miraculously got us first class/business class roundtrip for the same price as a small economy upgrade of a few extra inches. Of course, I believe God is gracing us with consideration for my claustrophobia and in the celebration of 30 years of marriage! We have the pleasure of being accompanied by two other couples and dear friends and the six of us are like schoolchildren anticipating Disneyland. Those of you inclined to pray, please ask for safety, good health, smooth transfers and days punctuated by joy.

Oh, and I’m officially retired for the second time. My gig at the church has come to an end. What began as a three month experiment turned into a commitment of two full years, with a whole lot of life thrown in. Many wonderful things occurred in that time as the church is going through a transformational period. Of the many positives, clearly one stands out for me, personally. I am so blessed to have grown into deep relationship with some of the most wonderful and gifted people, a number of whom have become dear, dear friends. It’s because of this connection that I suspect I’ll stay involved in some capacity after my return, but on a less formal and regular basis.

Speaking of dear, dear friends. Our friend, Sharon Daoust (my former assistant principal) and her three daughters are like family. Sharon will kill me for saying this but she needs to go to the head of the line for sainthood. What a beautiful woman, through and through. Life hasn’t always been easy but find me someone who cares more for helping young people. Just sayin’. Anyway, her lovely daughter, Stephanie, shocked me speechless recently with the invitation to preside over her wedding in October. Oh my! You won’t be surprised to hear that I teared up before humbly accepting. This will go to the top of my priority list later this summer.

I’ve probably bored you senseless by now, so will stop with the newsy catch up.

Six months ago, I was hiking in the mountains around Idyllwild, in the best shape of my life. Healthy and vibrant, actively involved in all sorts of things, among them a plan to climb a very tall mountain in Colorado in August. That changed quickly on January 2 as life tends to do. You know most of the rest.

Everything changed but nothing changed. While I consistently fall short in practice, I honestly believe each day is a gift and that I’m living on borrowed time. I live with feet in two worlds, making for a fascinating journey. I strive to live up to my prayer: “Lord, today, let me see others as you do, let my heart reflect your heart and let my hands do your work.” A tall and unattainable order but a magnet, nonetheless, calling from true north. Forgive me, friends and family when I fall so far short, which is way too often. Thank you for standing by me and loving me, despite my many failings. What a life this is!

Stay Tuned. 🙂

Lord, thank you for the gift of this day, a day unlike any other. Thank you for the treasures that show up with such regularity. I know I’m supposed to thank you for the thorns because they help me grow and to do a better job of surrendering to you and blessing others. But, I need your help constantly, which I think is part of the whole point. Thank you for the patience, dedication, and love of all those who have taken the time to read these reflections … I’m truly humbled. Please help all of us to know you more fully. Amen.

Well, after too long a hiatus, we’re off in awhile for five nights camping on our favorite beach on the Camp Pendleton Marine Base. We’d managed three trips this past fall, two to the beach and one to Sequoia and Yosemite National Parks. But, my illness and other commitments unfortunately slammed on the breaks so far this year. We’re so blessed for the generosity of our dear friends, Rita and Jimmy Lott, who graciously allow us to park our trailer on their property about 15 minutes north of here. To emphasize how generous they are, when they learned of my illness, they selflessly volunteered to tow and set up our trailer anywhere we wanted. I tell you, that was beyond special! Thank you, Rita and Jimmy.

Speaking of fortunate, because Diane’s mom and my dad had military privileges, we were able to camp on this most fabulous of beaches for many years as the boys were growing up. We no longer have that original trailer, which we sold when the boys had grown, but have a new one we acquired shortly after retiring. I’m not sure Diane can be happier than when she’s camping in that trailer! Now, we are blessed by our dear friend (and my former colleague), Sharon who has privileges and kindly makes the reservations. Thank you, Sharon!

The new trailer has a picture window in the rear so when we back it into that front row space, we have a view that has to rival any gazillion dollar home or hotel on a Southern California beach. $40-50 a night with full hook ups, depending on the season.

In the stressful life of our former professions, a week or so camping at this venue was all the medicine we’d need to recharge our batteries. Here are two pictures from a recent trip.

While I will not have internet that will allow me to write this week, I’m going to take the laptop and compose, if I feel called. Thank you for checking in from time to time. God bless.

Brad

We have this saying in Emmaus that I’ll paraphrase here: “Healing is for those who need it the most and for those who think they need it the least.”

Let’s let that roll over us a bit and consider how true it is.

For most of my life, I knew that I needed healing but most of it was the kind of knowledge that we keep tied up in some deep places. The kind of places where, when the knowing rises to the level of true awareness, we work our will to wrap it up and shove it back down. Through all of this, for me, I seemed to travel from one physical challenge to another. The sort of struggles that were really not possible to ignore. They created some immediate threat to living something like a normal or completely functional life. Some of these physical threats to my well-being were chronic and resulted in routine maintenance to keep in check. Others erupted seemingly out of the blue and required a whole lot of intervention, the ignoring of which was not an option. Trips in an ambulance, periodic visits to the ER and quite a few surgeries to address serious disease almost became a rhythm. Attention to health and the nature of healing became for me (and my family and friends) just another facet of life. I lived with the knowledge that modern medicine had kept me alive when not that many decades before, it would have stopped me in childhood and several other times throughout adulthood.

But, this quality of attention did not occur with the kind of laser beam focus on the part of my life one might refer to as the interior. The thought life. The spirit life. That place that is the font of who we are. Our purpose. Our value. Our meaning. Sure, I paid some attention to these things (if I hadn’t, I couldn’t truthfully testify that I fought God for thirty years) but not nearly to the level of priority I displayed in addressing the many physical threats.

I guess I would respond to the statement above that I needed it the most and only recognized it through largely occluded lenses (or, as our friend David says, “with spiritual cataracts”). In short, my recognition did not result in significant healing. And, that fact resulted in me acting as if I needed it the least.

Well, maybe not the least but you get my point.

Nothing I say or feel here detracts one iota from the relief Diane and I (and so many others) have over the news this past week. Honestly, given the disappearance of symptoms awhile ago, renewed strength and the sheer force applied by so many to my situation, I came to expect evidence of at least some level of healing. To hear that all signs of abnormality had simply vanished was the kind of news that is mind boggling. (Brief detour: It would not be mind boggling to Rachel, a fellow believer who has the gift of healing. After laying her hands aside my head and praying for at least five minutes, she later told others that she felt the heat come out of my body and was convinced the artery was healed at that time. Probably two months ago. I certainly had no headaches after that. Think what you will.) Anyway, I had tears of joy as did a number of people who learned of the news shortly afterwards.

But, in this case, as I alluded to in my last post, the joy was not so much that I had once more eluded a big physical threat but that the healing pointed to so many things that are far more important than my body being well.

And, it is impossible for me to disconnect the two: My physical healing from the fact that there are more important things to pay attention to.

I’m convinced this is one place the rubber really hits the road.

We have a friend of deep faith who I have named in these spaces before but whom I will not name here out of respect for her. We saw her the other morning, for the first time since I heard the news. She had previously let me know she’d learned of the news via a text from Diane while she was shopping and the tears just flowed. Anyway, we hugged and she was beaming. She suffers terribly from a debilitating illness. It’s been going on for a couple of years now and there is no known cure. She is young for this kind of thing and she struggles daily, sometimes mightily. I started to apologize to her with that kind of survivor’s guilt, even though I could have predicted her response … the kind of response I would hope to give. The kind of response I prayed to give since I was first diagnosed.

I trust God.

She said her condition has brought her into a deeper relationship with God and she wouldn’t trade that. When you see her, there’s a radiance that may not reflect how she feels physically but is there, nonetheless. Sure, she testifies to being in dark places some of the time but I know she doesn’t spend energy asking why she has to suffer (as opposed to someone else). However, she probably does continually seek to understand her purpose through her suffering.

I can relate.

As I write these words, I can think of two others who share my friend’s level of physical challenge. Each has been told their situation is incurable. And each is radiant.

The kind of radiance that only comes from interior healing. The kind of radiance that can only result from surrenders both large and small.

I suspect most of us … at least those of us of a certain age … wonder once in awhile how we’ll stand up when the axe falls. I guess it’s a bit easier to contemplate infirmity and mortality when you see contemporaries hit with the really bad stuff. Or oneself, of course.

I also suspect, if a lot of work on inner healing had been engaged some time ago, that in many cases we might be better positioned to manage the inevitable blows. On the other hand, we can probably imagine a case where no amount of inner healing could sustain the violence of some situations.

Yesterday, I read a reflective piece by a husband, whose wife, lover and life partner of 48 years had developed a terrible Alzheimer’s two years ago. His description of his and her life could not help but shake every one of us to our core. My recent problem seems like a blip compared to his. However, there were a couple of things missing from his piece. Predominantly, the involvement of any other humans aside from the two professional home caregivers and, perhaps some colleagues from the business they held together. There was no mention of any other people coming alongside to share in their immense struggles. No sign that he was fed in any way other than by taking a creative writing class which got him out of the house.

Which brings me back to prayer.

If we think of prayer as merely a request that God accomplish something we desire, I believe we’re really missing the mark. Prayer is relationship. Group prayer is far more than enhancing the power of human request to God to accomplish something. Prayer is about recognizing who we are, who God is and how we are all connected. Prayer, in this sense, is then a deepening of relationship in a manner I believe is reflective of the kind of thing we’ll experience in the next life, except by many orders of magnitude greater.

The Lord’s Prayer, hence, is that thing. It’s the model of prayer Jesus taught. Here it is in its traditional old English translation.

Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, the power and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen.

As we can see, it’s communal … based on relationship. It says, “our” and “us.” Always in the plural. It leads off with the recognition of who God is, how we should respond to him, and that he is as present on earth as he is in the heavens.  It then makes the first two requests: That we have sustenance that allow us to live, while also recognizing the central key to living that life, which is love. Jesus said there is nothing more important than love … love of God and love of others. And, he modeled unconditional love, something virtually impossible for most of us in most circumstances. Yes, the bar is set high but we can learn and grow from it. In this prayer, love is expressed in how we recognize our own need for forgiveness while forgiving others. The next request is that God help us to focus on him, rather than merely seeking to idolize self and other distractions, which is always the source of evil. Finally, it comes full circle back to the fact of God and the reality that places him at the center.

I mention all of this because I believe healing is contained in this prayer. Healing that comes from both surrender and the recognition of the enormous power contained in the reality the prayer describes. The power that is available, not through our own means, but as a partner with God in the healing of all of us.

I was asked again yesterday about whether I and we felt fear, especially during those first weeks when the news was fresh and threatening. As I said previously, the honest answer is no. Aside from our own (our, meaning Diane and I) foundational faith that God would sustain us, regardless, we were instantly surrounded by a flood of love. Yes, a flood. We were not alone for an instant. Texts, emails, phone calls went out immediately and rippled across large spaces. Relationships vibrated with life. People stopped what they were doing to focus on us and our predicament. You know what a flood of love is? It’s grace. We weren’t alone for an instant. We were all a part of the same fabric, knit together in a beautiful tapestry, strong and special. And, that love defeats fear. For us, fear of what the physical problem meant was overwhelmed by forces such as Shannon’s bold statement, “We’ve got this.”

I am not Pollyanna. I can completely envision being in a state of fear at some point. This life can be harsh and situations so bad and painful as to overwhelm us. That’s why the statement at the very top of his post is true. We are always in the need of healing, whether we realize it or not. We, therefore, need to ask ourselves what kind of healing do we need and how do we go about getting it.

Lord, I do recognize your hand in my life and in the lives of others. I pray that each of us seeks knowledge of the places where we need healing in order to live the kind of life you designed us for. Help us to reach out to others in need while opening ourselves to their love and grace in return. Help our hearts to form these bonds, to focus on what is most significant. Thank you for relieving our anxieties and giving us hope. Amen.

Well, that was an interesting four months!

Thank you for all of your heartfelt and loving messages since we broke the news late yesterday. As I woke up this morning, Diane greeted me with a smile and a “Good morning, healthy boy!”

To say the least, we’ve been doing some grinning since Dr. Viets’ long-anticipated phone call. And from the sound of it, we’re not alone! Diane and I are so blessed to be surrounded by the most remarkable people. Fellow travelers along for the ride, roller coaster that it is.

So, after his initial joyful message to me upon hearing the news, my friend Gary basically asked what’s with prayer, anyway? Now, you have to understand Gary a bit as he’s a scientist given to asking questions and he’s about as much a prayer warrior as you can ask for. And, understanding Gary as I do, I know he sent that particular question with an impish smile on his face.

But, he has a point.

What is it with prayer? And, specifically, what’s the deal with prayer and healing?

A lot of people pray. Actually, most people pray. Some people know exactly who or what they are praying to (or with) and some people are not sure but are hopeful that someone or some thing is paying attention.

And, when it comes to big deals like serious illness, prayer usually ramps up.

Many of us, though by no means all, think that God answers prayers, although most of us don’t know exactly how that works. This is especially true when we seek healing. Of course, this is a big sticky point between believers and non-believers or skeptics. The classic comeback is “why did he choose to heal that person but not the other person?” That’s a very real and understandable question.

Case in point: After my initial diagnosis of a very rare breakdown of my carotid artery adjacent to my brain, we were told by some top doctors that it was both very dangerous and probably inoperable. For quite awhile we lived with the knowledge that my life could end at any moment, though I felt pretty healthy otherwise. A lot of things kicked into gear, ranging from some deep introspection (given life in these blogs, among other things) to a rather large number of people praying for my healing.

It’s interesting. While Diane and I and most of you were praying for healing (asking for God’s actual intervention to make this dangerous abnormality flat out disappear), perhaps my strongest request was that God hold me tight whatever happened. Put another way, my fundamental urge was to remain close to him and to surrender into his plan for my life. Honestly, I did that pretty much without expectation of the result. Stronger than my request for healing was my request that I live a life reflective of him for however long I had … be it a day, a week, a month or much longer.

Now, I cannot be the judge of how well I did in that department. I’m sure I fell far short but hopefully not entirely. However, I can testify to answered prayer immediately. This cannot be disputed.

Neither Diane nor I ever really felt fear and our actual anxiety rarely registered.

You see, “healing” is a complex thing. We look at it as the resolution of some physical problem. That’s no small thing, especially for those of us who face potentially fatal diseases or crippling conditions. And, “prayer” is a complex thing.

I think God’s healing hand touched my soul immediately, helping me to relax and trust. To surrender. And, I know Diane felt this too, as we talked about it. Clearly, this is a byproduct of having God at the center of our lives.

Now, don’t get me wrong. It would be a mistake to hear me say that this is easy. Surrender is never easy. And, pain or a major disruption to life is obviously very unpleasant. But, having experienced those things without God and with him, there’s just no comparison.

Someone told me recently, that I must be very brave to live through this with a kind of contentment he witnessed. Another person asked me this morning if I felt a 400 lb. weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. Looked at objectively, those comments make a whole lot of sense. I’d have said the same thing if the roles were reversed. But, neither struck me as true. I’ve not felt brave and I’ve not felt like I’m carrying a gigantic weight around. Perhaps that sounds pompous. What I honestly felt is a kind of courage that didn’t take effort and a kind of weight that did not make me really bend my knees too much.

I think these things are directly related to prayer and healing.

The license plate on our Jeep reads “MTW1720.” We’ve had that on three different vehicles since 2005. It refers to the verse in the Gospel of Matthew (17:20) where Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.”

A mustard seed is an incredibly small thing and a mountain is a very big thing. Duh. Moving mountains by speaking to them is plain ridiculous. But this statement is actually about faith and faith is both very simple and very complex. Faith is a thing but it has implications that bore into minute fibers, touching the immense and the miniscule. In the scheme of things, we tiny beings in a vast universe are pretty inconsequential but that doesn’t mean anything because in God’s economy, the math doesn’t work that way. The smallest things can be infinitely precious and what we think of as huge and vastly important can, in fact, be virtually without significance. This is the reality in which I live and it’s far more real than any I’ve ever encountered or studied. It’s proven to me just about every day.

Why do I mention all of this? In my world (which I maintain is the true world, despite worthy arguments to the contrary), a big detour like hearing of some life-threatening condition is not a deterrent to the fact that this detour is really very, very small.

It is small because it doesn’t change important priorities and it doesn’t change the position of that directional needle that governs our behavior and attitude … the true north, so to speak. That needle is not dependent upon the ebbs and flows of daily life, nor upon the shifting sands of our feelings and emotions. It is small because we are either eternal beings or we’re not. I stand on the fact we are. So, between True North and eternal life, they tend to provide quite a different perspective to detours. And, that perspective assumes surrender, which (counterintuitively) provides both courage and contentment.

I guess this is getting a bit heady but let’s pull this back into healing and prayer.

Prayer is far more than asking God to provide some benefit, as in, “please heal that darned artery so I can continue living.” And healing is far more than reformatting the fibers and connective tissues that form arterial walls.

Prayer is recognizing God’s place in our lives and practicing his presence through speaking and listening … just as we would with anyone else we’re in a relationship with. And healing is all about flourishing in both body and spirit.

I am humbled by the many, many people who have been praying for me. It’s really mind-boggling and just plain stunning. Many who have been praying actually love me. Imagine that! Others who may not know me well, love Diane so are praying for me in that context. 🙂 Some know either one of us less well but are associated with us. And, still others don’t really know either one of us but are part of a prayer group where someone showed up and said, “hey, there’s this guy Brad that I know (or that someone I know knows) and he could really use our prayer.” In other words, a whole lot of people are setting their own cares aside and seeking to put mine first.

In God’s economy, that’s very cool. It’s one way of defining love. And, if anyone says love can’t heal, then they probably don’t know the meaning of true love. Prayer is forming connecting tissue and with God at the center, that connection is immensely powerful. It may not produce the exact result those praying are seeking but it does produce results … some quite tangible and some less tangible. In God’s economy they are both bountiful.

And, here’s one really difficult thing to wrap our heads around: Why did my body heal but the bodies of other loving and faithful people not heal? Why has there not been healing in those others who have received at least as much prayer as I have and some who have received far more and for much longer periods of time?

This is especially painful as we are extremely close to a number of the most loving and beautiful people you could ever want to know and each of them suffers from very painful and debilitating diseases that have no known cure.

And, then there’s Shannon. If anyone “deserved” to live and whose large circle was praying ceaselessly on bended knees, it was she. But she didn’t.

Some will take this as evidence that God does not exist or that if he does he is not really a loving God.

I look at the lives of these people, those alive and the one deceased, and I can’t calculate the good they’ve done and how remarkably they face their days with courage and determination. They stumble but they don’t fall. There is beautiful healing going on, despite the pain.

For those of you who have been reading many of these posts, you’ll understand when I say my most important healing occurred eleven years ago. And, it continues every day. It’s a healing that is life altering and results in a complete shift in perspective. It’s a healing that allows me to both surrender into the love of others and to extend that love when I can. It’s a healing that allows me to live in a reality with both joy and sorrow as companions. It’s a healing that opens my ears to God’s whispers and helps me to frame thoughts and words that guide my life.

I cannot answer all of the questions. I may not know God’s intentions on any specific thing. I realize that some people will choose not to believe in God because certain things don’t make sense. I basically used to think that way. I was wrong. I remain a rational guy who seeks answers and, a lot of the time, I get them. But, I’m also content in not knowing everything. I’ll leave that to God. The alternative is just a desert that will go poof in the end.

What’s the deal with healing and prayer? They both work. They work big time.

One last thing. I just need to leave everyone with the realization that we’re really, really stoked!! Hallelujah! It’s just very cool. Some real celebration going on! Thank you!!

Brad: “Hello, this is Brad.”

Dr. V: “Hi Mr. Lichtman, this is Dr. Viets. Sorry I was delayed a few minutes. You have great results. The dissection is completely healed.”

Brad: “Oh my. Praise God. What about the pseudo aneurysm?”

Dr. V.: “Gone. Completely gone.”

Brad: “So many people have been praying.”

Dr. V.: “That’s great. I’m really happy for you.”

Brad: “Can I return to a completely normal life?”

Dr. V.: “Yes.”

Brad: “Because we do not know the cause of this, should we do another MRI in six months?”

Dr. V.: “Yes. That’s probably a good idea but I suspect we’ll just see a completely healed artery.”

Brad and Diane (on speaker): “Thank you so much. Hallelujah.”

And, thank you dear family and friends, for all of your love … for your faith … for your prayers. Let no one misunderstand God’s role in this.

Diane and I never felt fear, thanks to God, and he deserves all of the credit.

I guess I’ll be kicking around this ol’ world a bit longer. Lots of life left to live.

Lord, thank you for never leaving our side. Thank you for gathering the most amazing people around us during this challenging time. Thank you for their love and grace and unwavering support. We are on our knees in gratitude. Amen.

As you all know, Diane and I are Christians or, as we like to say, followers of Jesus. The term Christian is so loaded, so full of interpretation and even baggage, that it can be a conversation stopper or worse. That’s a tragedy. It’s also ironic. It might come as a surprise that Jesus came to abolish religion, rather than to start one. A statement that has to raise an eyebrow or two.

Maybe I’ll go all theological at some point but that’s not the point of this overdue post. It has to do with grace and love, two things I’ve written about quite extensively in the past three months.

There are all kinds of love, while we commonly use a single word to describe them. C.S. Lewis posits four types of love in his aptly named book, The Four Loves.  Loosely put, he categorizes them as (1) Affectionate or empathetic love … such as that between close family members, (2) Friendship love … that between friends that are as close as siblings, (3) Romantic or sexual love and (4) charitable love or what some refer to as agape (pronounced uh-gop-eh) … love offered without condition or expectation of return. It should come as no surprise that Lewis considers this last type of love as the “highest” form of love. By such an extremely simplistic summary of his categories, I risk raising way too many questions or objections.

However, there is only one grace. (Disclaimer: Theologians can also parse grace and they have a point but, unlike love, the parsings are just ways of helping us wrap our heads around the same thing. Love is different.) Grace is a gift, undeserved but freely given. Grace and agape love go hand in hand.

Grace and agape are real examples of God and reflect his presence.

Furthermore, when we hear the words, “made in God’s image,” we can get distracted by assuming it means physical image. In the case of an incarnate Jesus, that’s true but I take it to mean much more. It means we are designed for grace and agape love. It means that if we all lived our lives with those two things as the primary focus of our behavior, imagine the difference.

Which brings me to Emmaus.

Some of you reading this are very familiar with Fourth Day communities like Emmaus and Kairos. Some may have heard of them but are largely unfamiliar. And others have no idea.

Put simply, Emmaus and Kairos invite people into an intensive 72 hour (three day) experience of grace and agape. While that three day experience is the beginning, both are called Fourth Day because of what we do when we leave. For reference, Kairos occurs in prison.

At the conclusion of each 72 hour experience, participants are asked to publicly describe what it meant to them and what they will do about it. It is a rare person who does not relate that it changed their life.

How is that possible? Many people attend retreats, often through churches, but not always. Many participants come away refreshed and re-energized. Some come away with new insights or a deeper sense of peace. Most people who attend Emmaus (you only go once as a participant) have been to many retreats. None would place this in that kind of category. Of course inmates in large prisons like RJ Donovan State Penitentiary in southern San Diego County have not been on many retreats. They live in a place we would liken to hell.

What distinguishes Emmaus and Kairos is that people are transformed through experiencing deep love and grace, most in ways they never had previously and some for the very first time.

This was true for Diane and me in 2009, which is why we’ve chosen to participate in the Emmaus community and serve on the teams who lead and support that annual three day experience. The planning takes many months and is intensive, especially for leadership. I was named the men’s director last May and we had our Walk last weekend(Thursday evening until Sunday evening. It’s not really a walk in that we tread around. Long story.). Diane is an assistant director this year and she is in the middle of the women’s Walk right now. Previously, I did some work with Kairos at Donovan, although I haven’t been able to continue due to so many other opportunities.

I’m sharing all of this not just as news but to continue a theme I touched on some weeks ago. Previously, I called it Church. And this may help bring us back to the first paragraph above.

Each of us carries within us some very special qualities. And those qualities seek outlets. Expression. We are wired to love and to be loved. We are wired to seek fulfillment in some form … although most of us make all sorts of choices that don’t really end up all that fulfilling or ultimately satisfying.

I believe one of those qualities is the draw to be in relationship with others. Unfortunately, many of those relationships are not as fulfilling as they can be because we hold back … we protect ourselves from hurt … we harbor our anxieties … we don’t share our deepest hopes and yearnings. We are a society and culture that idealizes the self … glamorizes the narcissist. We preach fulfillment through material means or through a spirituality that is about “actualizing” the self … an inward focus that places us at the center.  None of this gives expression to love and certainly not grace.

When we are in community, truly sharing life together, offering unconditional love and grace, we are on the path to fulfillment. This is the church I know and Emmaus is like that.

This is not religion, which is really about creating systems for us to earn our way to salvation (fulfillment or however you choose to characterize the ultimate goal). True love and grace have nothing to do with earning. And neither does salvation and fulfillment. This is what Jesus taught and a main reason why Diane and I say we follow him. The whole thing is just darned counterintuitive. But it’s true.

And, this is what Emmaus is about. This is what church should be about. This is how life is meant to be lived.

Lord, thank you for showing us love and grace. Thank you for accepting our surrender from the lies that pull us away from the true nature of these unique forces. Help us to grow more deeply so that we can receive and offer unconditional love. So that we can receive and extend grace. Thank you for Emmaus and Kairos, two remarkable organizations built around love and grace. I thank you for the men who were transformed last weekend, who described in detail how their eyes and hearts were opened to dimensions of love and grace they had not previously known existed. Thank you for the many, many men who worked to make the three days successful and for the hundreds around the world that prayed for all of us by name, covering every hour of the experience. Please be with Diane and the women this weekend, as well, and we look forward to everyone getting together next weekend to celebrate and to continue our discussion about how to bless others as we all continue our Fourth Day. Amen.

Bless your hearts if you’re checking in to see if I’ve fallen off the face of the earth. No, I haven’t. And, I haven’t given up the call to write about things I find most meaningful in this life. As I’ve mentioned before, I’m just caught up in a host of responsibilities that weren’t as present in the first couple of months after my diagnosis. Unfortunately, this has reduced the amount of time and energy I have to be quiet and reflective and to carve out extended periods to actually write. One of the great benefits of retiring is that, theoretically, we control our time. Well, that’s been only partially true, especially in the last several months leading up to Emmaus … which is this weekend for the men and the following weekend for the women. With the conclusion of Emmaus and my tenure as temporary staff at the church coming to a close in June, I get to re-retire!

Of course, knowing me, I’m not sure how long it will be until the next major focus area arrives on my doorstep. 🙂

So, some good news. Today, I scheduled my big long-awaited MRI. We’re set for Thursday, April 21 in the afternoon. It’s a little earlier than I think the doctor originally wanted but that date was open and I don’t want to turn it down. Please pray that it will show evidence of healing! I’ll write more before then, but I’d also appreciate prayers that I get through it ok. Many of you know about my intense claustrophobia stemming from being trapped 400 feet below the earth’s surface in that cave’s small dark tube (my only and last time spelunking!) …  the emergency MRI I had in January was 90 minutes long and very, very difficult, even with some meds. But, that’s a small price to pay for having access to terrific health care and I’m not worried, really.

The other good news on the physical front is that I’ve started exercising again, with no ill effects. Far from full throttle but enough to feel like I’m getting my strength and stamina back. It’s a strange sensation to have a serious illness but to not really feel the effect of it. Of course, we hope it’s indication of healing! On the other hand, my original symptoms were quite mild and it’s a wonder they found it. Curious, all the way around. Hopefully, the next few weeks will shed greater light on the whole thing.

Finally, I trust that next week, I’ll be able to return to writing. I appreciate your faithfulness in checking in.

Lord, you know that I know that each day is a gift. We sometimes say that casually. I trust I never do. Awhile back, I wrote about living on borrowed time. That’s never far from my conscious mind. Thank you for those gorgeous bright purplish flowers in our new garden today. Closed at night, they come to life in the light, reaching upwards. Thank you for those butterflies and hummingbirds that delight amidst the color and scent. Thank you for Diane and our boys, Ross and Lee, for our extended family and so many friends who really are family. Thank you for soft hearts that seek the good of others and thank you for filling us with gifts to do the work that needs to be done. We know there’s nothing we can do to earn your love or to lose it. Take that to the bank. It’s miraculous. Amen.

Apologies for the interruption to the Justice and Mercy series. I’d made it part way through the third installment when I got sidetracked by the last three posts. We’ve enjoyed the blessings of Carol, Jack and Mary staying with us and celebrating Easter at the Steussy house, after a terrific service at church. I had some quiet time set aside today and had intended to get back to writing but couldn’t resist diving into the book Val Steussy lent me last night. She had no way of knowing that it had been on my list. I’d run across mention of it several weeks ago as it received some play in the national press and it piqued my interest. I have to say that I rarely get my interest piqued by the national press. (OK, that was probably an uncalled for remark but I’ll let it stand.)

Anyway, the book is by the now-deceased Stanford neurosurgeon, Paul Kalanithi, and is entitled When Breath Becomes Air. It chronicles his development as one the most thoughtful of physicians and scientists and his battle with a terrible cancer that took him far too young. It resonated to me on many levels. His extensive search for meaning. His attempt to understand the nature of mortality, even long before the disease developed. His focus on relationships as a primary life force. His bravery, faith and honesty. His portrayal of what it means to face the possibility of imminent death.  I’d say there is plenty there for everyone to take away something important. OK, Val said I’d probably read it in one day and I did. It’s only a couple of hundred pages long. Stock up on Kleenex.

I’ll say this. I know I’ve written about joy and wonder and beauty. Thank God for them. But, it just seems right now that so many people we know are suffering. I definitely have a problem with patience at times. And one of those problems is when people go blithely about life and are ill tuned to the plight of others. As in, things are particularly good for me so life is good! Now, I don’t mean to be a downer or to diminish our ability to celebrate goodness around us. On the contrary, I’m a big fan of celebrating. Of feasting upon blessings and bounty. But not to the point that we erect barriers to the deep struggles of others.

In fact, just as Dr. Kalanithi explores the world of meaningful relationships, we need to cultivate habits of truly sharing lives together. And, this means we can’t escape the fragility of life even though we get marvelous respites be they short or long. Living transparently and inviting others into our interior selves is liberating and positively transformational. I’m sometimes called to testify what is different about my life from a dozen years ago. And, I’d say freedom. True freedom. The freedom that comes from moving out of protective and defensive postures into a lightness that only results from transparency. And, transparency means we recognize that all is not good, just as all is not bad. Unfortunately, I know people who choose defending edifices with the result of comparative isolation. If only they could have seen some of the folks last Wednesday evening and Friday morning, bless their hearts. They would have seen many who choose surrender and, as difficult as that is, they would say there is no alternative and we are all the better for it.

Lord, thank you for the life and witness of Dr. Paul Kalanithi. Please continue to comfort his dear wife, young daughter and extended family. Thank you for your voice that pulls us towards meaning and away from the randomness so popular in our times. Help those of us who are struggling with disease, grief, lost sense of purpose or the daily anxieties that threaten to overwhelm. Also help others of us who have the strength and full hearts to come alongside and support those in need. Help us to admit frailty and to seek help. And, help us to listen carefully and connect with others in ways that have permanency. Finally, we pray that, should we find ourselves in mortal predicament, we can identify that which is ultimately true. Amen.

http://www.amazon.com/When-Breath-Becomes-Paul-Kalanithi/dp/081298840X/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1459208231&sr=1-1&keywords=when+breath+becomes+air

Eleven years ago this Saturday night, at 6:40pm, I heard God’s voice. While I’ve “heard” God many, many times since, I’ve only heard his voice speaking clearly to me one time. As in, it came in through the upper left side of my head. It was not some disembodied thought that just entered my mind. There was no mistaking who it was or what he said. Some of you have heard this account a number of times. It’s not something one keeps quiet about in certain circles.

So, this kind of thing raises all sorts of questions and issues. Two main ones are probably: How did I know it was God? Or, if one hearing this story does not believe in God, what are the other possible explanations? These are good and valid questions. Others could be, why did he choose that time and those words? Or, why doesn’t he do this all of the time? And, why me?

Actually, it was more than hearing his voice. We had a conversation. OK, it was a very brief conversation, as in he spoke clearly and I responded quickly by sending an inaudible reply, to which he clearly spoke again. These were not muddled words.

If there is no such thing as God, then there are only two possibilities and they are not unreasonable. One is that I’m making this whole thing up. I’m pulling a fast one for some reason. Maybe notoriety. Attention. People who claim to have heard from God or who have conversations with God are nothing new and some are certainly sharing this for some kind of gain. We get inured to this kind of thing. Jaded. I accept this doubt but given my immediate and visceral reaction that was pretty shocking to those around me, I’d have had to be quite the actor, even plotting it ahead of time. I don’t believe anyone who knows me considers this at all possible. The more plausible explanation of my account, if there is no God, is that I was deluded. I thought I heard his voice but, in fact, my subconscious projected a false conversation into my consciousness. As in, some aspect of me really wanted to hear God and so, unbeknownst to me, I made it up. In other words, I was just a tad crazy. Certainly, there are all sorts of examples of crazy people exclaiming God stuff all of the time. Yes, I can see why some would explain that I was simply momentarily deluded. We’ll get back to that. But, we’re going to take a detour, because this post is about something more than what happened to me on March 26, 2005.

As I’ve said many times, I did not grow up with any faith and had no familiarity with religion, other than the twice yearly celebrations of Passover and Hanukah with my paternal Jewish grandparents and what I gleaned from reading or associating with friends. I was as about as secular a kid as you could get. Never stepped inside a church (other than our fourth grade trip to Mission San Juan Batista) until college. The only time I think I prayed was when my tenth grade geometry teacher asked me to go to the board and demonstrate an equation, probably knowing I had not done my homework. She was not particularly nice. I stood there silently as everyone waited, my back to the class. I remember praying for relief. And I remember the fire alarm going off right then. We never made it back to class. It’s a wonder it took me another 35 years to trust God.

Without going into all of the details (and some of you know this stuff), I felt “spiritual” tugs in my later teens, diving into Eastern practices in college. I remember being trained for $65 in Transcendental Meditation, along with a friend. The point of TM was self-actualization or the achievement of a higher (even highest) state of consciousness. I was very intrigued. I was given a secret mantra by a guru. I was taught to repeat it over and over again for twenty minutes, twice a day. I was told it would be very bad if I shared my particular mantra with anyone else. I did not. I faithfully practiced TM in my college dorm room for a long time. And, I continued to practice meditation in some form or other for several years. By the way, my mantra would be spelled Aye-Ying. I repeated that thousands and thousands of times. I have friends who meditate regularly and employ traditional eastern spiritual practices. I was not a good student at this. I probably benefited from the quiet time and learned the spiritual discipline of quiet meditation, but I never increased my consciousness nor did I perceive any significant impact on my life. I was told that one way of knowing if I was advancing spiritually would be if I could hear the sound of the universe … Om. I listened a lot but did not hear it. I have a relative who listened for many, many years but did not hear it. She spent hours a day in this pursuit. I have to say,though, that a side benefit for me was advancing in the art of listening.

During this time and for another thirty years, I was also drawn to Jesus. He raised my curiosity. Being very active in left wing politics of the day, I liked what little I really knew about him … some popular stuff that said he was a prophet or holy man. A man who knew God, whoever or whatever God was. I also liked that he liked poor people and was quite the thorn in the side of authority. I was not big on authority. He also was big on peace which sat very well with me. And, he was quoted extensively by some of the century’s giants: Gandhi and King. And, I liked those guys.

So, for those several decades, I basically lived in a no-man’s land of searching agnosticism. I managed to get a masters in Theology at the Catholic University of San Diego, quite the odd thing for a public school administrator. To be honest, it was an odd Masters. Pretty unconventional as my advisor/mentor was a pretty unconventional Religious Studies professor. By the end, I was moderately literate in most of the world’s religions, had a fair understanding of the nature of faith (for an agnostic) and could speak somewhat intelligently in the field of epistemology (philosophical theory of knowledge). I was a child of the European Enlightenment and a believer in Humanism. Neither of those predilections are particularly compatible with Theology.

Certainly, I did not know God. If I prayed, I can’t remember it. And, I absolutely hadn’t heard God.

I won’t recount here the events that led up to March 26, 2005, except to say that God proved his existence to me several months before with the miraculous gift of grace and love. It was so torrential in its delivery that I had no alternative other than to believe that it and he was for real. As real as anything I had ever known. But, I still didn’t get exactly who he was or where Jesus fit in.

So, I began to pray and to listen. I mean, I really prayed and I really listened. I asked a lot of questions. I was pretty direct. I kept asking, “show me who you are!” This was not a quiet time for me. I’d been wrestling with this stuff since I was about 17 and I was now turning 51. This was an amazing several months. I lay myself wide open. I had no idea where it all would lead. I had no expectations other than I wanted to know the truth. Stop all the wandering which had not only led nowhere but it had led me to the point of despair.

In those months, there was no denying the tug. Things started happening. Doors started opening. As I was surrendering, clues began popping up. Little things but they added up. Clearly there was a direction but I was not willing to totally surrender. The direction, while compelling, just could not be true. This was a tug of war. I was willing to engage in the tug but I was not willing to be beaten.

In the week leading up to the 26th, I could not escape the fact that I had probably been wrong my whole life. I looked at truth from all the different angles. I analyzed the bits and pieces. I recalled experience and related it to all of my observations of human behavior. I realized an important thing in those months. I could no longer support the supposition that all roads lead to the same place. They don’t. I could no longer support the supposition that all truths are equal or relative. They are not. I realized that atheism was not possible and, for me, agnosticism was a cop out. A current was pulling me and I felt I did not have to resist any more. Still, I doubted. I was your basic really hard sell.

At 6:40 pm I was standing next to Diane. And, God spoke.

It was not a loud voice. The best I could describe it was just a clear and resonate voice. It came in unexpected.

Now, if was not God and I am not a liar, then I was hallucinating.

But, a spontaneous hallucination would probably not have generated these words:

“It’s time to come Home.”

This took me by surprise. As I said, it was unexpected. Three things happened instantaneously. The first was that the voice was clear, unambiguous and came in the upper left side of my head. I think I may have even cocked my head slightly in that direction. The second was that the voice said, “it’s time.” What was equally clear to me in that pinprick instant was that I’d had more than enough time to figure it all out. Time to make a decision. This instant was the only instant. Enough is enough. The voice was not threatening or demanding. It was simply stating the obvious. The third thing that happened is that it said, “come Home.” I capitalize Home for a reason that will be clear in a moment.

However, in that first instant, I’m not sure I knew what “Home” was.

I’m also not sure that this is easily translatable. It happened so fast and was such a surprise. The voice came out of nowhere.

But, for whatever reason, I didn’t hesitate. I sent back this answer. Granted, it was not an audible answer but it was a prompt response. In reflection afterwards, I’m sure I didn’t hesitate. The voice did not give that option.

I said, “Do you mean right now?”

This is almost comedic in an afterthought. If this really was God, … I mean the God of all that is, then here I was kind of debating with him.

What I was actually doing, was holding out. I’ll say that again, I was holding out. I think I had this one last ounce of reservoir in my protective casing that I just did not want to give up. After all, by giving up, the house of cards would fall. And, that’s a very tough thing to allow.

God didn’t hesitate. With the same clear and resonate voice … but, this time with a bit more softness and compassion, he said,

“What are you waiting for?”

Please remember, that this exchange probably lasted five, six seconds, max.

Curious.

Of course, the earth changed on its axis. I was completely boxed in with only one way out. My life and eternity changed in a heartbeat.

Back to the explanation that I somehow conjured this up in my subconscious. For starters, I will swear that I’d never hear the concept of Home before. I’ve heard it since but I’d never heard it prior. I didn’t run in Christian circles. It was simply not in my conceptual library.

And, let’s get to the fact that I argued with the voice. I resisted. I was unwilling. Yes, I’d felt tugged but it was clear that I was not quite ready to really, really believe.

The challenge was laid out, lovingly and simply. Although in that instant I did not know what Home was, I did know it was coming from God and I held back. To which, he calmly sliced away my last defense. He knew. It was over. He did not tell me it was over. He simply gave me a final choice.

And, that’s what God does. He gives us a choice. He didn’t say, “Brad, don’t you know I’m real?” He didn’t say, “Please follow me.” He gave me a choice.

Of course, he knew the answer. I had nothing left. I had no argument, not explanation, no intellectualization that could hold up to scrutiny. More than thirty years of wrestling and searching were left naked and exposed.

Sure, the doubter will say this was all some kind of psycho mumbo jumbo. But, they’d be wrong. I know. I was one of them.

I had no answer. And, in that moment, I let go. And, in that moment, he took me.

There are no words to describe what happened. I can only say this: I instantly saw my entire life and I knew what and where Home is. I had never heard that word in that context before but I instantly knew what it was. It was awaking from a deep sleep to the most vibrant reality. I was shocked. Stunned. How can you write that you see your entire life in a flash? But, it was true. I experienced my life from birth to that moment in a flash, except I saw it through God’s eyes. And, I knew that he was the Alpha and Omega and that I was loved from the very beginning and would be for eternity. This was no impersonal spirit. This was the one God and I belonged to him and it was the most glorious thing imaginable.

A moment before, I did not know what Home was. And, then I knew. I am a visitor in this world and God gave me the gift of seeing Home. Actually, he invited me to come home. I knew that this is where I was designed to be. Home is a place we belong. It is not a new place but is familiar. Home is where we always return. It’s not just a destination or waypoint. It’s the end of the journey. And it’s really, really good.

In a flash, the scales fell away. All of my searching had finally paid off but not of my own accord. Through the infinite grace of God.

So much has happened since then. But, as some of you know, in the immediate aftermath, there were tremendous changes. For starters, for weeks, I would stare at trees and the sky and all of my surroundings and they were vastly different. The colors shimmered and glowed. I was given a glimpse of how God views this created world. I saw his work in my life from the earliest time. I saw his patience. His love. His forgiveness. And, I knew that Jesus was who he said he was.

I have heard God many times since then. Perhaps I’ll write about what hearing God is like when his voice does not come through quite like it did that night. Some of you reading this know that easily as well as I.

The doubter or skeptic is free to question. That is not something I can change. But, to return to the issue: If there is no God, I am either a liar or crazy. Most people who know me now would say that there is no evidence of either. I have not changed course for eleven years. I have not wavered. God is the air I breathe. The atheistic psychologist or philosopher might say that I’m just deluded. Please examine my life in the last decade and argue that this delusion is destructive and not good.

To the other questions of why me and why then? I’ll leave those to another time. I also leave all of the other things that have happened in the last eleven years. Things that Diane has witnessed. Things that others have witnessed that are undeniable in the fact that they point to our loving God.

I heard God’s voice speak and I’m no longer the person I was before. Period. And, that’s the most beautiful blessing imaginable.

Lord, thank you for your trust and patience in me. I know it took a really long time but you know the truth … the shepherd will go quite aways to bring back that one sheep. 🙂  Thank you for the gifts of love and grace. Thank you for bringing me to my knees eleven years ago Saturday and every day, for that matter. I now know what Home is. In many ways, it’s all around me and I am grateful that you open my eyes to that each day. In other ways, this is barely a glimmer. While I have seen glimpses of what is in store, I await the arrival of the full picture. Please help me to greet each day like it is my last in this life. I’m sorry I fall short but that’s why I need help. I hope and pray that I am available to do the work that needs to be done as we anticipate what you have in store for us. Amen.