We’re in the middle of looking at the first half of a phrase that Jesus used to introduce his most famous set of teachings.

Now, you don’t have to be a committed Christian in order to examine its meaning and significance, but you probably should be somewhat familiar with his intent and the context behind why he chose such words. In doing so, I’d suggest it becomes easier to get a grasp on what this unique individual, Jesus, was all about.

We left off by identifying a set of contrasts to a thing we can call humility, which itself is a thing that is contained in our selected phrase. If pride is setting one’s self apart from others as a means of feeling pleasure, and narcissism is unchecked pride taken to an extreme, then humility is setting the needs of others before one’s self and deflecting attention from one’s self and, instead, towards other people or things. (There is, we know, a thing called false humility, which is merely the appearance of humility as a means of acquiring admiration.)

Of course, concepts such as humility, pride, haughtiness and narcissism don’t have to have any transcendent meaning. They’re perfectly acceptable to describe human attitudes and behaviors without bringing God into the picture. But to understand what Jesus meant, you really have to do just that: Bring God into the picture. Without God, there is no specific reference point to understand how and why “pride goeth before the fall.”

Which brings us to a very big deal. Perhaps the biggest of all. As I’ve been saying for a long time in these posts (including most recently), in order to really understand something, we need to peel away the layers to get to the ultimate source of the thing.

And, this fundamental teaching of “blessed are the poor in spirit …” is, itself, contingent on an even more fundamental teaching.

We are right to ask,“why is being poor in spirit (humble if you will) so important that it’s called out for special blessing (in this sense meaning something akin to God’s favor)?”

We don’t have to travel far from the opening salvo to his most famous teaching in order to find a line drawn firmly in the sand. Jesus is saying, in essence, If you peel away all of the layers of the important things I have to tell you about God and why I am here and why I’m telling you this stuff, it comes down to this …

Note the answer to the question asked to Jesus by a learned man, “Teacher, what must I do to earn eternal life?”

To which, Jesus replied: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and with all your strength and all your mind; and love your neighbor as yourself.” Luke 10:27.

A slightly different recollection of this is contained in Matthew 22:36-39. The question is asked, “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment?” (A commandment is not an equivocal thing. It’s a must-do, not a may-do). To which Matthew recounts the reply: “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it, ‘love your neighbor as yourself.’”

Ok. Stop the presses. Whether you accept Jesus as God or consider him merely a moral teacher, this stuff is dynamite. It’s not something any of us can ignore; sort of shunt aside and think, “I’m not into playing with dynamite so I’m going to just head on over to some other less extreme stuff that better fits my world.”

For the record, I really struggle with what he’s saying here. He seems to leave no room for nuance … no exit strategy short of buying into it hook, line and sinker which, I admit, seems basically impossible.

After all, all of our strength, hearts, minds, and soul? All? Everything? How does that work in reality?

And, then, let’s turn our attention briefly to commandment #2, close on the heels of #1: Love our neighbors as ourselves (which basically means to treat them with love as we hope, in all of our dreams and deep desires, that we could be loved.)

Maybe I can get away with throwing up my hands to the first commandment by saying something like, “How am I supposed to love with everything I have, someone or something I can’t even see, feel or have a normal conversation with? But, when it comes to the second commandment, I can’t say that. In this case, at least I know who my neighbors are (or maybe I actually don’t, in terms of my house, but I do know the fellow in the adjacent cubicle at work) and I have to tell you that they are anything but lovable. In fact, I have one or two who are mean-spirited or worse. Jesus is asking the impossible. I can’t help but ignore this stuff. Either he’s setting the bar way too high or his advice really doesn’t have any relevance to real life, therefore I can sideline him as either not-God or a kind of misguided prophet of sorts.”

Where does this leave us? Am I only pulling away layers to find answers which don’t make any real sense?

“What does God want from me, anyway?”

If the “blessed are the poor in spirit” statement is a derivation from the “Love God and neighbors with all you have” statement and the latter is seemingly impossible, aren’t we being set up for failure?

The short answer, of course, is yes.

The longer answer is fascinating and we’ll try to tackle that next time.

(Note to Reader: I inadvertently published Part III before this one yesterday. So, here’s Part II, in order. Will put Part III in its proper place after this one.)

To recap: We’re now looking at the first part of a very short phrase that Jesus used to start his most famous set of teachings.

Blessed are the poor in spirit.

We left off by beginning to dive into this concept of what it means to be “poor in spirit,” by generally equating it with both humility and brokenness. Or, as Chesterton so succinctly put it: If I want to honestly address what I see as real problems in the world, be they small or close by on the one hand or vast and global on the other, all I have to do is look in the mirror.

Humility, then, can be an honest look in the mirror and recognizing that there are places in my mind and heart of which I am not proud, despite the way I carry myself in public or present myself to others. It is the recognition that the world does not revolve around me, my wants and desires, my particular judgments, my need to be elevated for my achievements, my demand for attention.

Brokenness, in the Christian sense, is the understanding that we fall far short of being the kind of people God designed us to be.

Of course, if one’s worldview (which I recently addressed) does not hold that there is a place for a God, specifically a God who had us in mind when he started the whole shebang, then there is no such standard. In other words, the concept of brokenness is more probably viewed in terms of “functionality.” “So and so isn’t functioning at all well in society. Just look at him or her. Can’t manage the basics. Therefore, he or she is for all practical purposes, broken.”

As I am used to saying, one way to examine a thing is to look for its opposite. Doing so can bring the examined thing into greater clarity.

The opposite of humility is pride. The opposite of brokenness is being whole.

Put as a kind of simple theological equation, we can look at Proverbs 16:18,

“Pride goeth before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.”This is frequently compressed into the aphorism,“Pride goeth before the fall.”

(Look up “haughty” in your handy dictionary and you might see this definition: arrogantly superior and disdainful.)

To be poor in spirit is, at best, recognizing that “I’m not really any better than anyone else when you get down to it.” Put a bit differently, though, it’s not really a competition. It’s no good looking at Mother Theresa (a common example of “goodness”) on the one hand and Adolph Hitler (a common example of “badness”) on the other hand and thinking, “Well, I’m certainly not as good as her but I’m certainly not as bad as him.”In the Christian framework, this is just not the point.

At this point, let’s take a minor detour as we continue to try to unpack what is meant by being “poor in spirit.”

Let’s get back to seeking opposites in order to better perceive something. This is called contrast. For instance, if we’re looking at a picture of, say, a majestic mountain that is at least partially covered with snow, we don’t photograph it while looking directly into the sun. Light on light is a tough thing to process. We look for shadows and nuances in order to discern the detail in the landscape. It’s like that with what we’re talking about. (I always had my students do “compare and contrast” when it came to discerning the significance of an historical event or a philosophical theory.)

With this in mind, I think it’s valuable to look at this thing called pride as a contrast to our scriptural phrase in order to better discern what Jesus was talking about.

A quick search in the dictionary renders this: A deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one’s own achievements … or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired.

Ok. A deep pleasure that comes from one’s own achievements. A deep pleasure that comes when there is widespread admiration from others regarding us and our stuff.

Put simply in that context: I’m deeply touched by the viewpoints of others on how successful I am at being a certain way, achieving certain things and/or possessing a lot of stuff.

This is a self-centric perspective.

Of course, at one level, this does not seem to be at all alarming. One might get the impression that we’re leading in the direction that any sense of pride is a bad thing. “You mean, it’s wrong for me to be proud when my child works and struggles really hard to achieve something … say in a difficult course in which she had previously not done well, and now received an A? What the heck is wrong with that?”

“Do you mean, it’s wrong for me to be proud of my country, my school, or my sports teams?” Good and fair questions.

The wisdom contained in the proverb is not that pride is inherently wrong (at least that’s my interpretation) but that, left unchecked, it can grab ahold with some terrible consequences.

With respect to things outside of us, about which we are proud, such as family, country, etc., … it’s really about tribal identity which is, anthropologically, a defining feature of all human societies from the beginning. It’s more a feature of being in community and recognizing that the bonds of community help foster such values as love, as well as functional abilities such as language and custom that help give richness to life. If this is an aspect of pride, then it isn’t necessarilydestructive.

What makes it destructive is when it breeds behaviors such as intense judgmentalism and, even, cruelty towards those outside our tribe. Or, when it becomes an obsession, occupying our attention to such a degree that we lose the balance of perspective, thereby creating an artificial sense of such superiority that all else is dismissed, without appreciation, as truly inferior. Thusly, natural inclinations towards patriotism, in extreme circumstances, may morph into a drive towards conquest and the subjugation of others (To whit: Nazism and Communism).

When we are, instead, looking at ourselves as individuals, when you take this pathway out to the fringes, you arrive at a psychological state we know as narcissism, which the dictionary defines as an excessive interest in one’s self and one’s appearance … extreme selfishness with a grandiose view of one’s talents … and a craving for admiration.

Narcissism is pride on steroids. Pride left unchecked. A compulsion that elevates one’s self-worth to such lofty heights that it can only be sustained by the pursuitof admiration and, even, featly from others. It shouts “Look at me in all of my finery! My authority! My beauty! My successes! My acquisitions! Aren’t I truly great?!” It’s really an addiction to the glories of self and, as the proverb implies, it leads to (goes before) destruction (which is not a good thing).

But, you might say, “while I can probably name more than a handful of narcissists fitting that description in politics, entertainment, professional sports and maybe even of my own acquaintance, I’m clearly not a narcissist. After all, I know a lot of people more powerful than I, richer, better looking, higher achieving and so forth. I’m under no misconception about my relative place in that regard. Yes, I am proud of some things, is that so bad?”

In order to answer that, we need to turn our attention so something else Jesus said.

Next time.

I had the occasion the other day to come across a passage in the Christian scriptures, namely a brief phrase from one of the four Gospels, which are pronounced by many to be direct accounts of Jesus’ life and ministry … that is, what he said and did during an approximately three year time period.

The phrase comes from one of the most familiar sections in all of the Christian literature, a lengthy passage with a title that many people will recognize: The Sermon on the Mount. In fact, many modern people who don’t actually believe Jesus was and is God, point to this famous speech as remarkable teaching and the basis for all sorts of things, including social justice. “Well, I don’t buy that he was actually God but he really nailed that one!”

In any event, let’s set the stage for what I’d like to share and offer up for extended thought.

In the north of what is now present-day Israel, not far from the southern border of Lebanon and the southwestern border of Syria, lies a large freshwater lake. The occupying Romans called it Tiberias after one of their emperors. The Jews and later Christians called it Galilee, among other names, and termed it a sea. It lies in a bowl, largely surrounded by hillsides and it was on one of those hillsides, overlooking this Sea of Galilee, that Jesus spoke to a group of people who had gathered to hear from a somewhat strange new entrant onto their stage. Some called him Teacher. Some called him Prophet. He was saying some pretty remarkable things they’d never heard before, things seemingly out of context for a very learned Jew … especially for a Rabbi such as Jesus who, by all measures, was well versed in everything Jewish.

I’ve stood on that hillside and I’ve sailed on that inland sea, imagining what actually took place. I don’t think there’s any way around the fact that what transpired there truly changed history.

The first spoken or written words in a thing of great import … think The Declaration of Independence (“When in the course of human events…”), The U.S. Constitution (“We the people…”), the Gettysburg Address (“Four score and seven years ago…”) … usually sink in and are remembered. They set the tone.

The Sermon on the Mount was actually a teaching on things Jesus believed are really important for us to understand and believe. And so he began,

“Blessed are the poor in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.”

Now, it’s quite a simple thing to nod our heads and go, “Ok, sounds interesting. What’s next?”

But that would be a mistake.

Instead, let’s pause and ask a couple of questions before we just leap ahead. After all, as I said above, this is his opening salvo.

To the casual observer, especially in a modern and secular society without a deeper understanding of his context, it’s quite common to think that what Jesus was saying is that poor people are blessed. And, by presumption rich people are not similarly blessed. After all, he didn’t start the ball rolling with “Blessed are the rich people …”

But, in order to really understand his point (and it’s a big one … even foundational for understanding who Jesus was and why he came), we need to hit the pause button, backtrack and try to understand this new thing Jesus was introducing, namely the concept of being “poor in spirit.”And, and in that same vein, how does that relate to a thing we’re uncertain about which he called “the kingdom of heaven?”

I’m aware that many modern readers interpret this important passage to mean that poor people get the FastPass to heaven. From such a perspective, therefore, God looks much more favorably upon poor people than non-poor people. Kind of like St. Peter, at the pearly gates with that cartoon-drawn line of just-deceased people seeking entry, looking out over the long queue and shouting to some poor soul way back and saying, “hey there, you in the rags, just don’t stand there, come right up here. Now the rest of you, stand aside.”

Is this where Jesus was going with his introductory statement? I think not.

So, let’s look at these two interesting and (at that time) somewhat uncommon phrases.

First, what does he mean by “poor in spirit?”

To answer that, I’m going to give a very rough summary of a bunch of theological mumbo jumbo. But, I believe it cuts to the very essence of the Christian belief system and frames a great deal of how and why Jesus lived and spoke the way he did.

In essence, to be poor in spirit is to be humble and to be humble does not mean to think less of yourself but to think of yourself less.

That deserves repeating: To be humble does not mean to think less of yourself but to think of yourself less. (Tip of the hat to the great Christian pastor and writer, Tim Keller.)

To be humble is to recognize that I am a kind of broken vessel. Whether or not I work hard to mask any semblance of brokenness, I’m not whole. I have problems, fears, anxieties, regrets, shame, guilt.

Now, many modern people glance at this and will automatically think, “you’re talking about other people because I’m basically just fine. Sure I have problems but so does everyone. I manage ok. I work pretty hard and am not abusive to others. I guess, to be honest, I could probably be a better person when you think about it but I’m not a bad person and the term “broken” just doesn’t apply. Broken people are like addicts, alcoholics or drug abusers, or they’ve succumbed to terrible life circumstances. A good example would be some of the people you see begging on street corners or sleeping on the sidewalks of cities. You’re not describing me.”

In contrast to that, take the well-known response of the great late 19^thand early 20^thcentury English journalist, writer, philosopher and literary critic, G.K. Chesterton, when asked by The Times of London not long before the advent of the First World War to address the question of “What’s wrong with the world today?”

He sent in his reply, as the story goes,

“Dear Sirs:

I am.

Sincerely Yours, G.K. Chesterton.”

“I am.” Chesterton was an extremely gifted observer of the larger human condition and of his place in it. He was also a prolific Christian writer, in this instance concisely capturing a crucial element of the Christian framework, while also speaking to the very phrase and concept we’re now examining.

So, what, really, is humility? What does it mean to be “broken?” Why is any of this important or relevant to us today? What was Jesus getting at 2000 years ago and why should we pay attention?

I’ll try to address that next time.

There’s this concept in the Judeo-Christian tradition called anointing. To generalize, it means that God has chosen someone to perform a specific task or set of tasks and has provided that person with remarkable talents to succeed.

Put simply, it’s like God reaches into our finite reality, taps one of us on the shoulder (well, more realistically, in the head and heart) and, wham-o, we’re granted some special insights and abilities to work hand-in-hand with him.

Some anointments are earthshaking, literally turning us upside down or inside out, after which we set out on a pathway that would have been considered impossible a short time before.

A vivid example of this is the story of the apostle Paul (known to some as St. Paul) who was about as anti-Christian as you can get, admittedly set upon destroying this blasphemous new sect and killing many of its adherents. When he met Jesus on a trip from Jerusalem to Damascus, his “anointment” was probably the most profound in Christian history.

There are other examples from scripture, especially from the Hebrew Bible (Old Testament). For instance, Abram was anointed by God and renamed Abraham, henceforth recognized as the grand patriarch of the Jewish people. The shepherd boy David was anointed and, later, became the great king who God refers to as being “a man after my own heart.”

I have often felt that George Friedrich Handel was anointed by God, the result of which was the nearly miraculous scoring of The Messiah in just three weeks (close to three hours long and one of the great masterpieces of artistic expression).

When I read A.W. Tozer’s The Pursuit of God, an absolutely astonishing work that I believe he mostly wrote on a train ride, I thought, “this man is anointed.”

I felt the same way when I listened to contemporary singer and songwriter, Lauren Daigle’s first album. What makes all of these examples unique in my mind is that their very humanity is used to point millions of people directly to God.

So, it is to Daigle that I turn now.

As is my practice off and on these days, I was awake early. To me, it’s a time of peace and quiet, with the front shades open, our picture window looking out upon a world before sunrise, dim porch lights keeping total darkness at bay. Sometimes I read, sometimes I pray, sometimes I just sit, contemplating without distraction. Today, at something like 4:30 a.m., I put on my headphones and queued up Daigle’s album, How Can it Be? Although I haven’t listened to it in awhile now, I know it well and the lyrics and music connect with me deeply. They bring me quickly to a place of worship. And, while I think all twelve songs are excellent, several stand out especially, none more than “Here’s My Heart.”

I have listened to this song in the car, on the trail, and in our home. I never tire of it because the words so clearly express what is deeply in my head and heart, even when I find those two places seemingly overwhelmed by the stuff of this life. The instruments and Ms. Daigle’s voice bring these truths to full life, blasting away the obfuscating outer layers as if a lump of coal sheds carbon to bring forth a diamond.

The first stanza:

Here’s my heart, Lord

Here’s my heart, Lord

Here’s my heart, Lord

Speak what is true

Here’s my heart, Lord

Here’s my heart, Lord

Here’s my heart, Lord

Speak what is true

Simple. Methodical. Meditative. She leads with this most personal and powerful of offerings. “I surrender my heart to you, Lord.” As the heart is the metaphorical center of love and all other feelings; of the things we both hope for and fear, of joys and suffering, when we turn it over to the omnipotent God, we are giving him the center of our being. In return, all we ask is that he shares with us the truth of all things.

The next stanza:

I am found, I am Yours

I am loved, I’m made pure

I have life, I can breathe

I am healed, I am free

I might say that Ms. Daigle has captured the heart of the entire Gospel in four simple lines. What is she saying?

“I am found. I am Yours.” Diving in, the truth is that God is always seeking us, through thick and thin. I should know. When my eyes were finally opened, I saw this clearly as if I’d been in the thickest of fogs for most of my life, not really knowing that but perhaps aware at the deepest subconscious level. Daigle’s declaration is that that process is over. “I am found.” And, once found by God, there is no decision to be made but to surrender. This truth blasted into my fully conscious self in less time than it takes to write this paragraph.

But, then, we move immediately to the consequences of these two things; that is being found and surrendering. And, what consequences they are!

Four things. I have life. I can breathe. I am healed. I am free.

To one who does not believe in this whole Jesus or Christian thing, such declarations must seem very strange, even ridiculous. To say that “I have life” presumably means that a moment ago, I was either dead or only partially alive … and what does that mean? To me, it means that the true essence of life is found in a relationship with God. It’s basically a binary thing, although I imagine there are probably shades. The popular reference (although we hear it less and less these days) is to being “born again,” a thing Jesus actually spoke about in John 3:3.

So, what happens when a person obtains the fullness of life after surrendering to God? “I can breathe.”

Here we go again. What does this mean and does it imply one did not “breathe” before surrendering? Well, yes.

As a lifelong asthmatic who has fairly regular episodes of struggling for oxygen, I’m quite the fan of full breaths. It’s truly an amazing thing, probably not understood by someone who is unaware of what struggling for air consistently through life can be like. I know of other songs with lyrics such as “You are the air I breathe” and those that include the phrase, “breath of God.” They each describe the supernatural force that is similar to the one that gives us life in this world. I do not hesitate at all to say that breathing after surrender is a whole different kettle of fish. From my experience, it’s the difference between having partially diseased lungs which battle to provide my body with life and how it is when the lungs are fully healthy and sweet air is filling every pore.

“I am healed.” Yes, this is a healing. With full breath and life-giving force flowing, the disease is gone. We are made to be in union with God and when we are not, we suffer a disease, again a very, very difficult thing to countenance from a secular perspective. But, if there really is an all-powerful God who is behind the whole thing and he loves us fully and unconditionally and seeks for us to be in deep relationship with him, then the absence of that is not that dissimilar from being diseased. I accept that this will be alienating to some but I can only say what I believe to be true.

Finally, “I am free.”

I am reminded of the image I’ve seen several times and I know exists perpetually and that is of a room full of some 30-40 men, all dressed in denim blue shirts and pants. They are prisoners in our regional state penitentiary, serving different amounts of time for doing very bad things, among them things that require they spend the rest of their lives behind bars in the most awful of places. These particular groups of men, after encountering Jesus for the first time or maybe decades ago, raise their hands in the air and shout out how free they are. In prison. With joy on their faces.

We are all in bondage to things of this world but when that bondage is transferred to God, the other bonds lose their hold (or at least begin to) and we are offered freedom.

* * * * *

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30

* * * * *

As the song continues, Daigle repeats the first and second stanzas and then follows with this.

You are strong, You are sure

You are life, You endure

You are good, always true

You are light breaking through

From statements about us, she moves to describing the character of God, his essence so to speak. This is not a weak or distant God. This is not just one god among many or a passive character observing from the sidelines. No, this is a majestic figure, purposeful and reliable, always there regardless. He is life itself. And, make no mistake, he is also Good and True. There is such a thing as actual objective good. And, there is such a thing as wrong, neither of which are merely functions of our own wishes and feelings. While it’s hard to explain what she means by “light breaking through,” it’s pretty much another way of portraying an emergence from a fog or the opening of eyes previously clouded, images that I used to reject as fanciful until they actually happened.

There is more repetition of previous stanzas until she includes this last one and brings it all together:

You are more than enough

You are here, You are love

You are hope, You are grace

You’re all I have, You’re everything

When I sing along in my mind these special words (or if alone in my car I actually sing aloud), I am deeply moved because they cut to my very core and define who I am. My heart wants to burst, which some Christians will recognize as “Deep calling to Deep,” the indwelling of the Spirit reaching out in love to the Father and Son.

“You are more than enough.” What does that mean? I receive it as a truth that even when we think we are full … we’ve had enough… that “enough” does not approach what God has in store. And that is that he is fully present here and now. “You are here.” And that presence is manifested as perfect Love, Hope and Grace, perhaps the most powerful and compelling forces in all of reality.

The final line can seem a bit peculiar. “You’re all I have, You’re everything.” Does this mean that I truly have nothing else and that neither other people nor other things are important? At first glance it may seem that way but that’s not what the words really mean.

No, it means that when we are in a vibrant relationship with God, everything is manifested through him. We still deeply love our spouses, children, and friends and that is very good but through God, those attachments are given a special meaning that is hard to explain. The really, really tough thing to explain is that without God, there is no ultimate meaning to our existence and, therefore, no firm ground on which to trust in and build a life of complete flourishing.

As I naturally do, I can recall my former life, the one I built on shifting sands. I know that, should someone have said this to me twenty years ago, I would have had all sorts of responses, including the argument that I felt my life was on firm foundations, giving all sorts of good reasons. But, here’s the deal. I would have been telling a lie. Because it wasn’t.

I know some wonderful people who are atheists and agnostics. They are good people and I love them. They will have their own take on these kinds of things. However, I can only testify to what I now know and to the way that God has burst into my life as if I see the dawn for the first time and it is glorious. The light and warmth greets the darkness and fog, which dissipates before its power and glory.

To live within the space defined in this song is to, for all practical purposes, live in a different reality. A different dimension. Or, as I always say, to have one foot firmly planted in two worlds. Yes, You are the air that I breathe, for which I am eternally thankful. Amen.

I feel that we left off with kind of a mess. It’s certainly a lot to think about. I imagine a reasonable response might look something like, “Sigh. So, what you’re saying is that I have to do all of these things in order to make it possible for me to get a message from a God who is entirely invisible?” Or, perhaps, “I still don’t understand what “hearing” God is actually like. How am I supposed to go about all of this in a practical sense?”

To this, I can only testify what I’ve come to believe. And, as I’ve said many times, my belief is built on what I’d consider to be quite a firm foundation of both reason and experience.

With this in mind, the first step is quite a conscious one. It’s an act of will. It’s an act of resolve. “I am here, Lord, waiting upon you.”

It can involve a detour from prayerful requests for assistance, and towards merely seeking his presence. The actual plea is really to solve just one problem (which I’d argue is our most important one) and that is to know and love God. We can begin that by simply reaching out. This reaching out doesn’t have to be all dressed up in fine clothing either. In fact, it’s best if it isn’t! “God, to be honest, I don’t even know if you’re there. If you are, I don’t have any idea of what it would be like to hear you but I’d like it if I could.” Or, let’s say you’re a believing Christian but have had little experience of hearing God. You might say, “God, you know I believe in you. Jesus, I’ve surrendered to you. But I don’t actually feel your presence and I certainly don’t seem to be getting many messages from you. Please help me.”

So, let’s say something like this has taken place or will at some point. What’s next?

Well, we need to admit that we don’t actually have to go anywhere specifically. Far more important is to cut out the noise. Neutralize the distractions. (Mind you, this is only one way of beginning. After all, as I mentioned in the first piece in this series, I heard God in a large crowded room with a ton of distractions. But, we’ll get to that in a little bit.)

It could be a room in the house. It could be a place outside with one’s eyes closed. As my friend Ken has repeatedly testified, it could be while driving in one’s car with no radio or music. Or, it could be taking a small break from whatever task is at hand and just centering one’s self.

Psalm 46:10. “Be still and know that I am God.”

One of the ways I began learning how to do this was when I was a high school principal. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who thought I wasn’t busy in that job. I’ve made the statement many times that I don’t think I had five minutes of boredom in all of those years. There were many, many days that seemingly had no breaks. And some of those days lasted twelve hours or longer, each minute seemingly dealing with another challenge. What to do?

So, I developed several habits, one of which was resolving that when I walked across or around the campus, which happened all of the time, that I would just have a conversation with God, even if it was a brief one. I’d lay some of my thoughts (not necessarily concerns) before him and imagine him kind of like walking alongside. (Brother Lawrence helped me with this!) I also silently expressed my joy when I noticed something particularly beautiful such as a regular ed student assisting a severely disabled one, both of them alit with broad smiles. I’d give thanks for all of the beauty I saw, whether it was in people, circumstances or nature. As busy as I was, I tried to make space to see small things … birds, plants, clouds. I’d think of what I could do, with whatever influence I had, to help make this large campus a more loving and caring space for all who entered.

Having said this, let me be clear that this did not happen all of the time. I was told on many an occasion that I appeared so intently focused on a thing (usually some specific objective) that I failed to notice people right in front of me. My ADD and low-grade OCD bring their challenges. 🙂

But, a funny thing happened amidst all of this. I began hearing from God.

I remember one time, having a meeting in my office with one of our counselors. She was fairly late in her career and wanted to see me about a personal issue that was affecting her work. I had some knowledge that she was a practicing Christian but that didn’t enter my mind at the time. (I’d regularly meet with all sorts of people who were encountering all sorts of problems.) Anyway, after what has been probably a dozen years, I don’t remember everything about the conversation but I do remember that she was having trouble getting to the source of the problem, about which I had no direct knowledge. Then, all of a sudden, the whole thing entered my head as if I was reading it in on a piece of paper and this “message” also included specific advice. I was immediately compelled to share it, which deeply shocked her. She was basically speechless and asked me where I’d come up with the information and perspective on what to do. I remember plainly saying, I think God just told me. We both sat in amazement for more than a few seconds, reveling in what had just happened.

This particular incident brings up an important point. God not only speaks directly into our minds and hearts, he also speaks to us through others. All of the time. He speaks to us when we notice others and we are led into relationship with them, however brief. He speaks to us when we suddenly recognize that we are beginning to head down a path that is not healthy. He speaks to us in the midst of our struggles, which doesn’t mean that he always gives us a clear answer but he does let us know that he’s with us all of the way. He speaks to us through our eyes as well as our ears. We can both hear and see God at the same time. We just need to know how and where to look.

Within Christianity, there is the term called “the still small voice.” As my first articulate message from God was that rare audible one, I was unaware of such a term until later, after I’d had subsequent experiences described by this term.

I’m not sure of the origin of the term but I know it’s meant to relate the experience of a kind of thought that interrupts the normal flow of our mind’s activity. Often (although not always), it emerges into our consciousness with crystal clarity, akin to actual spoken or written words. It’s a message that can be completely unrelated to whatever else is going on in our minds at that time. I described this in the first piece of this series, when I related my story of meeting Hoan. This is also what happened in the discussion I just described with my counselor. It’s happened quite a few times over the years.

But, these kinds of clear messages are not the only way God speaks to us. It can also happen through a sudden onset of a specific feeling that, like the still small voice, appears unbidden. Perhaps the word, feeling, is not completely accurate for, in my experience, such events are also accompanied by a realization about something of importance.

One of the most common categories, here, is that of our conscience.

Our conscience is a check on our behavior. It’s a direct pathway between our thoughts and actions on the one hand and our fundamental values, grounded in our accepted truths, on the other hand. It is a message that recalls a moral code, from whatever source that code derives. All conscience is an expression of morality. For those of us who place our trust in God, his nudges are often explicit reminders for us to check our fundamental values and to behave accordingly.

From my experience, there is still another way that God speaks and that is through a kind of accumulation of perceptions and insights over time that ultimately coalesce into a very specific direction. One of my own examples of this is when, a couple of years before I retired, I began to ask God to show me the priorities for living my life after leaving my profession. In essence, this would be the last third of my life. Yes, this was a kind of “arrow” prayer but I wasn’t seeking quick responses. Instead, I was content to just live my existing life within that overall prayer framework, while waiting to see what would unfold. Without going into a lot of detail, I’d say it took the better part of a year (when this was a regular part of my prayer life) until his “answer” became completely clear. And, clear it eventually was. I clearly received three distinct priorities that continue to guide my life six years later.

A final word on this before we move on. It’s reasonable to ask how we know these so-called messages are actually from God, rather than from our own physically and socially constructed imaginations?

It’s a very fair question and I believe I’ve answered it to some degree already, especially in reference to how these messages often arrive out of nowhere and are unbidden. But, I have found there are other very practical ways. A kind of system of checks and balances. One of them is by examining the message in light of the truths that I rely upon. Does the message correspond with my guiding principles, built upon foundational truths which I accept as coming from the Truth that guides me in all things. (A simple test is for me to imagine the Jesus I know as having said the thing, in light of everything I know about Jesus.) Of course, scripture is a good place to go, although I’m not one to cherry pick scripture to get it to correspond with something I’d like to happen! Still another one is to run the message by someone whom I trust has a similar relationship to God as I do and who knows me intimately. All of these become means by which we can attest to the validity that the message is from God and personally directed to me.

I’m not presenting any of this as a perfect formula. I wish I was far better at practicing the presence of God than I really am. I’ve come across people who astonish me in this sense but, fortunately, their example is both beautiful and inspirational. Perhaps in time.

* * * * *

As I’m writing these thoughts down, I’m sitting in a comfortable armchair in a room in our house we call our “office.” There are five very large prints on the wall. The one directly across from me, overhanging the L-shaped desk, is a stunning landscape photograph of Denali Mountain in Alaska. To my right is a print of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, a time and place with special meaning for me. On the long wall to my left are two large framed prints. Both quite famous. The one is Leonardo da Vinci’s The Last Supper and the other is an expanded view of the piece from Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel work depicting the hand and finger of God nearly touching the hand and finger of Man. And just behind me, above my bookcase filled with books on faith is one of my two Rembrandt prints. This one is his Storm on the Sea of Galilee, to which we will shortly go. There are a few other Christian symbols and other elements that help remind me of some of the things that really ground me. All together, they are my anti-noise. This is the space I inhabit when I normally write, the subjects of which are largely unknown to me until the instant they are, after which my fingers just seem to follow as the thoughts flow out. Collectively, I refer to these writings as “A Pilgrim’s Journey: Love Letters to God.”

And, now we turn to the story so beautifully related in the Gospel of Mark. Specifically, Mark 4:35-41.

That day when evening came, he said to his disciples, “Let us go over to the other side.” Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him. A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped. Jesus was in the stern, sleeping on a cushion. The disciples woke him and said to him, “Teacher, don’t you care if we drown?”

He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.

 He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”

They were terrified and asked each other, “Who is this? Even the wind and the waves obey him!”

Please just take a moment to look up this beautiful Rembrandt painting.

The print is on our wall for two main reasons, the most obvious of which is a reminder that our lives are constantly battered by storms. Things which rock our boats when it’s our boats that are supposed to keep us safe. Storms can arise from almost nowhere, unbidden, perhaps merely troubling but, sometimes, terrifying. The second reason is more subtle but, to me, more powerful and worth never forgetting.

You see, as we read this short passage, the disciples (those who have been called to follow Jesus and who have put their trust in him) are suddenly confronted by overwhelming danger. The calm waters that they’ve traversed countless times, some as career fishermen, have quickly boiled up and threaten to swamp their small craft and drown them. They are exceedingly frightened as all of us would be.

By this point, they have mostly become convinced that Jesus is not just a normal prophet. They have witnessed him performing miracles and teaching the most amazing things. While they don’t yet have a full understanding of who he is or why he came, they recognize his power and authority.

But, where is he?

In fact, he is calmly asleep in the rear of the boat, resting comfortably on a cushion. Juxtapose these two images which can be a metaphor for our lives.

We stand in one place, living our lives with combinations of happiness and sorrow, success and failure. And, sometimes, the seas threaten to completely topple us. We are at an end as to how to cope. Yet, where is God?

In our mind, he is not present. We can’t see or hear him. For all practical purposes, he’s asleep on his nice cushion. Oblivious and uncaring.

And, so they awake him. Can you picture it? “Teacher!”, they yell. “Don’t you care about us?”

I love this part. It’s as if they’d seen his love but had forgotten it because he wasn’t fixing their problem. Kind of like saying, “We really thought you loved us but, honestly, it doesn’t seem so because you’re not fixing our suffering! You’re not solving our immediate problem!”

(Sound familiar?)

If not, go back a few postings and remember the thing about genies and wishes. 🙂

So, let’s picture in our mind’s eye the next moment. Jesus, now awakened, probably sat up, maybe stretched his arms a bit as we do when we are awoken and have to stand. And, then he told the wind and waves to be quiet. Settle down. The word that Mark uses is translated as “rebuke,” which means “to disapprove or sharply criticize.” In other words, “Hey wind and waves, cut it out!” To which they immediately obeyed.

With what was probably no hesitation, Jesus then turned to the men (I imagine calmly) and basically asked them, “Why are you afraid? Don’t you trust me?”

Talk about cognitive dissonance and a world changer. “What just happened? Who is this guy?”

In my mind, this is one of the most wonderful stories in all of scripture and it speaks to a truth that I hold dear. God is present whether we recognize it or not. He is not asleep, nor uncaring. He is perfectly able to calm the wind and the seas, however they may be the winds and seas that batter our hearts rather than the ones we think we’re encountering.

To the degree that we recognize that presence and accept who he is in the greatest sense, is the degree to which we can foster the most rewarding of all relationships. And, like all great relationships, the communication can tend to flow easily.

Lord, please forgive me for how much and how frequently I treat you like you’re invisible … out of sight and out of mind. Asleep in the stern while I go about my life. Help me to open my ears to what you have to say. Help me to open my eyes to what you’d like me to see. Help me to open my heart to what you’d have me feel. And help me to use my abilities to do your work while I have breath in my lungs. For you are that breath. Thank you and Amen.

So far, we’ve been toying with this idea that we, as regular people, can actually hear the God of the universe and all things. To this, atheists will scoff and cry “delusion.” Perennial skeptics will raise all sorts of objections, many of which are completely understandable. But, as I’ve mentioned consistently ever since I began to write these things, it all comes down to two worldviews. For those who cannot accept that there is a God, then discussions like this are over before they begin. But, for those who either believe in, or are willing to consider the possibility of, a personal and loving God, it must be intriguing to wonder if and how we can actually communicate.

So, let’s say we at least partially agree that if there is such a God, we need to cut away at the layers of noise that can drown out any possible real communication. Where does that bring us? How do we tune the dial (as if it were kind of an AM or FM signal) in order to hit the right frequency?.

We then need to ask,“where is he?”

To that, I’d suggest the first thing is to remember that he’s actually right here. We actually exist in a space where God is permanently and completely present. We don’t have to go anywhere!

I was in a discussion recently about a thing called “sacred” space. This was with respect to a belief (which I believe is mistaken) that there are some places in our reality … like our homes, towns, workspaces, natural parks, and so on… where God is more present than in other places.

I know lovely people, with whom I respectfully disagree, who believe that some places are naturally more “spiritual” than other places. In America, I’ve frequently heard that the towns of Sedona, Arizona or Santa Fe, New Mexico are especially spiritual. I’ve heard that traditional Native American burial grounds are actually more spiritual than other places. I’m not completely sure what is being asserted here other than the belief that one is closer to the “transcendent reality” in these specific locations.

There are all sorts of reasons that people subscribe to this belief and one of them is that there really is no God in the Christian sense but that this more amorphous kind of god or God actually resonates specifically more in (for instance) places of natural beauty, which definitely makes some sense. I understand this because I absolutely agree that beauty is a sign that points to God. But, an all-powerful, omni-present and creative God who loves us unconditionally (the Christian version of God) is certainly not bound by a piece of dirt in a specific location.

This may come across as hard to believe for many reasons, but I believe God was as absolutely present in Auschwitz as he is in Sedona.

God was completely present at the crucifixion, despite his unwillingness to intervene.

This is a tough thing to wrap one’s head around but I believe it to be true for many, many reasons. Including experience.

Maybe ten years or so ago, I decided to accept my friend’s invitation to go to prison. Mind you, this was not the county jail but a California State Penitentiary. The place where they house the worst offenders. You may not have to have a keen imagination to think about the crimes they’ve committed. Many of them would never get out.

To make a long story short, some several dozen prisoners would volunteer to attend a three day retreat of sorts put on by a ministry called Kairos. Some guests, who are pre-screened, are permitted to attend what was called a closing ceremony. I’ve been to these events a number of times, as well as participating in some of their regular prayer meetings. The first time I went to a closing ceremony, in an obscure white-washed large room behind layers of fencing, barbed wire, guard towers, on the edge of that typical yard filled with wandering prisoners we’ve all seen in the movies, I was instantly struck with the presence of God in a manner that almost completely overpowered me. It was physical and stunning to a degree that I can’t find words to describe.

I’ve heard prisons referred to as “the devil’s playground,” for good reason. It’s hard to imagine an environment in our free society more infused with violence, hatred, brokenness, and degradation. Many of the men here have done some really bad things. It’s about as far from Sedona as you can get.

And, yet, it was just here that God showed up in a big way.

In other words, God is equally as present when we drive in our cars, work in our jobs, sit at home, walk on the beach, climb a mountaintop, go to church and literally every other place we physically find ourselves. There just is no such thing as a “sacred” place in and of itself. It is sacred (meaning reflective of the presence of God) because of how we apprehend it. Of course, some places seem particularly well suited to bring us to a suitable frame of mind but that’s not because of God. It’s because of us.

* * * * *

I’d like to take a small detour here to bring up something that will be at least somewhat familiar to Jews and Christians. It speaks to this issue of “where” God is, in the historical and biblical context. (It may be new to some of you who are reading this.)

My very brief and very simplistic summary is this:

After Moses led some millions of Jews out of captivity in Egypt, he felt called to go up a mountain (believed to be Mt. Sinai), where he “met” God and received the ten commandments, etched on two stone tablets. This is certainly not the first evidence in scripture of a mortal hearing God but it’s probably the most famous.

These tablets were considered so sacred that God also “instructed” the Israelites to build a chest of sorts to contain them. This was referred to as The Ark of the Covenant. (A covenant is a legal term that binds both parties to one another. The ten commandments were basically an ancient form of what we’d refer to as a contract, binding both parties with an expectation that each would perform certain functions.) This ark was to be carried by priests called Levites inside of a large transportable tent called The Tabernacle. This tent was then, obviously, also considered a sacred place. In fact, it was believed this is where God actually resided.

Fast forward many, many centuries to the time of Jesus and the existence of the Second Temple (Solomon, son of King David, built the first temple which was later destroyed), wherein there was a very inner room called the Holy of Holies. Once a year, the high priest of the Jews would enter this most sacred of all locations, beseeching God to forgive all of he people for their sins. This was the Day of Atonement, which we now call Yom Kippur. In other words, the “holiest” man went alone into the “holiest” place so as to be in the presence of God and seek his favor.

Jesus fundamentally disrupted this brand of theology when he said (and I paraphrase), “I am he. Come to me. I am given the power to forgive all sins.” Such a radical statement was a blatant refutation of the traditional Jewish belief that only God could forgive sins and that God was best found in the innermost part of the Temple. (As another aside, the Temple sat on the mountaintop of Jerusalem, where it was said that God spoke to the “father” of all Jews, Abraham, when he ordered the sacrifice of his son, Isaac. Talk about hearing from God! Of course, God remanded that directive in the nick of time.) So, and here is a very important point in the Christian worldview, Jesus said wherever I am, you will find God. You don’t have to go to a temple. In fact, I will dwell within you, through the Holy Spirit.

* * * * *

Thank you for your patience as I walked through this last piece. The preceding bit of biblical and historical record might not sit equally well with everyone. After all, there are those who take it as absolutely true and others who say it’s pure mythology. But, the point is that Jesus basically neutralized the argument that God is limited or more evident in one place rather than another. And, that is because God sets up residency in every human heart for those who trust him. This is the Christian conception.

Now, a lot has happened in the last two thousand years. In that time period, Christianity has passed through many phases, the most significant of which was its own internal revolution ignited by Martin Luther and his followers five hundred years ago. Today, there are many sects, each with their own separate take on this or that particular aspect of the faith. And, of course, in that same two thousand year time period, we’ve also seen the flourishing of other faiths, including Islam and Buddhism. (The polytheists such as Hinduism and the pantheists, such as is commonly found in pre-agrarian native cultures, have been around much longer. For a point of reference, pantheism has found some resurgence in modern “spiritual” non-monotheistic faiths.) It’s all quite overwhelming for those who are thinking of what it means to communicate with God!

I will leapfrog over another longwinded defense of the Christian worldview. Instead, in keeping with our theme of hearing God, I merely want to emphasize my deep-set belief (developed both rationally and as a fundamental aspect of experience) that we need go nowhere specifically in order to better receive what God has to offer us.

Instead, the “sacred” is to be found everywhere. I’ve been astonished at the times and places where God has made himself visible to me. Knowing that I don’t have to go somewhere to have this happen relieves a tremendous burden. I just need to open my eyes, my ears, my mind and my heart to him and await his presence.

I’ll conclude this segment by admitting that, while the theory is neat, the practice is far less so. It is one thing to (A) Be open to the idea that we can actually hear God, whatever that means, (B) Consider that a thing like prayer can actually be a two-way form of communication, (C) Recognize that all forms of noise exist in our lives and that this noise can easily mask our ability to be open to the presence of God and (D) Come to believe that we can connect with God equally well, despite our surroundings and circumstances.

It is another thing, entirely, to actually put all of these pieces together on a regular basis. So, what are we to do?

I started out by stating that God can and does speak to us. I know that this raises all sorts of problems, perhaps the most common of which is the criticism that many people who, by all measures, do not at all appear “godly” … think of some of those famous televangelists who led deeply corrupted lives, firmly state that they have heard from God. But, I’m not going to go there now. Maybe another time.

My premise, of course, is that there is a God who knows us and loves us, without condition. That this God wants to be in an intimate relationship with us. That this God knows every thought we’ve ever had and is aware of everything we’ve ever done. That this God understands that in order for us to have an intimate relationship, we must communicate. Back and forth. It’s a two-way street.

Furthermore, there are all sorts of clues as to what we can do to help foster this communication. I’ve already mentioned some.

But, for now, let’s turn our attention to a major obstacle to cultivating that relationship.

I’m talking here about noise.

All of us know of many, many pleasant sounds. Beautiful sounds. Sounds that can strike us deeply. Perhaps they’re from nature or from certain musical instruments and remarkable voices. I, for one, can be completely captivated by some of these things.

But, honestly, I don’t respond in the same way when I hear the word, “noise.”

To me, noise is not a desirable thing. Yes, it’s sound but it’s sound that we don’t receive as pleasant. To me, it can act to obscure other things that really appeal to us. (Ok, I’ll make an exception for “white noise” which is really just constant sound that is designed to mask other sounds that disrupt us.) Of course, one person’s idea of good sound can be another person’s idea of noise. Sound and noise are really just the same thing when it comes to physics, chemistry and biology but they’re not received the same way based upon our motivations.

For our purposes here, in order for us to increase our opportunities to hear God, we need to deal with the noise problem.

But, before diving in, perhaps we should expand our concept of noise beyond the scope of simple sound. For our purposes, let’s consider it as a form of distraction that invades our consciousness and diverts us from a thing of intention. For instance, the incessant loud arguing next door can certainly interfere with our appreciation of a Chopin Nocturne. The gas-operated leaf-blower at 7am can interfere with our desire to sleep in a bit longer on a Saturday morning.

I remember, as an undergraduate, learning the rather simple lesson that if I really wanted to actually “study” something (as opposed to sort of using half of my brain to skim through, highlighting stuff that I thought looked important), I needed to leave the busy and loud dorm and head to the quietest part of the campus library, which was probably in some obscure location in the basement. On a Saturday morning. 🙂

Much later, I taught a program to undergraduates at a local university and emphasized that the mind can only process one thing at a time, like a light switch flipping furiously back and forth. In other words, concentration is a pretty good skill to learn and noise is its enemy.

It will come as no surprise to anyone that, in this age of hyper information coming in from all directions, that our attention spans are fraying away. Sound bits, tweets, non-stop video and audio and so forth just add to the cacophony that also includes all of the other demands placed upon our attention. Jobs, families, political inclinations. The list can be nearly endless.

And, we only have so much bandwidth to deal with this.

It’s a wonder that even for faithful Christians that there is space to send the prayer requests I mentioned in my last post. (We usually remember God when things don’t go as we’d like and we want his help.)

So (and this is a simple question), how can we hear God amidst all of this? How can we even expect to hear him? No wonder people want the electronic billboard to light up with the answer. Now, that’s something we could identify with!

It’s not only a simple question, the answer is equally simple. We have to learn to listen. And, the only way we can listen (especially to an invisible God), is to get away from the noise.

There should be a 12 Step Program for all of us (I include myself) who struggle with the dominance of noise.

Here’s a place where those raised in more Eastern cultures (Asia for instance) have had more cultural practices that seek to quiet the mind. I suspect Brother Lawrence practiced silence for most or all of his day.

Now, this is not to say that we need to leave all of our westernized habits and interests behind. I firmly believe that’s not necessary. However, we do need to take an honest look into how much we’d like to hear God and how we can best go about it.

My experience with this is not something I’m particularly proud of. But, and this is a big “but,” I know that I’ve grown in my capacity to listen for and to God as the years are going by. Some might say, “Goodness, Brad, you’re retired! You’re no longer working those crazy hours and under all of that stress. You’re just not facing what you’d call a huge amount of “noise,” that surrounded your life before retirement!”

And, they’d be right. Up to a point.

In fact, however, I began training in shutting out the noise and opening up my ears (so to speak) long before I retired. And, in many ways, I have just as much opportunity to live with noise now as I had before.

So, how do we reduce the noise in our lives while simultaneously opening up to God’s voice, in its various manifestations? And what, exactly, are those manifestations?

To be continued.

For any of us who are at least a little intrigued about the concept of hearing God, I think it’s a good starting point to consider a thing we generally call prayer.

Yes, prayer.

Prayer is a funny thing. You hear the word all of the time. A lot of people pray, or so they say. Even some of those who don’t really believe in God, admit they can pray.

Perhaps you’ve heard the familiar adage that “there are no atheists in foxholes.”With the terrible explosive shells raining all around and life hanging by the thinnest of threads, “God, please …”Or, “God, I promise that if you’ll only … I’ll …”

I’ve heard the most common type of prayer referred to as “arrow prayers.” You get the picture: We’re here on normal earth and have a very specific need or, in fact, a whole quiver of needs. We pull out our trusty bow, select the specific arrow, which is really a plea or request, and launch it heavenward.

When I’ve been in group discussions about prayer and this characterizing of the practice comes up, I’ve imagined millions and millions of arrows launching continuously around the globe, tiny little missile-like things, seeking to escape earth’s gravity. Never ceasing. Each carrying an individual request or plea, somehow relying on the hope that they will be captured by someone of great power and, accordingly, acted upon with favor.

It would be a mistake for me to imply that I’m making light of this. These are real attempts to relate to God, the God who we may believe has the power to make things better for us or those who we pray for.

Ipray these prayers. Most Christians I know pray these prayers. Some people who would not self-describe as either Christian or as “religious,” pray these prayers.

Of course, what we are all doing is either believing in or hoping for a supernatural being or reality of some sort to help us with our circumstances. And, it’s fascinating to consider what we pray for!

We pray for miraculous healing when the experts have said there is no hope. We pray for divine intervention to resolve the terrible circumstances our children are in. We pray for peace amidst violence and horror. We pray for the safe return of loved ones who travel afar. We pray that we, or someone close to us, will finally be able to get a good job because it’s been so long and so hard.

We also pray for good parking spots, that one will open up right in front of us. We pray we will find our wallet or car keys.

We pray that we will be more patient, less angry, less judgmental.

“Please, God …”

I dearly remember my first prayer. If you’re not aware, I grew up in a non-religious house. I didn’t enter a church until college and our family certainly didn’t pray. God was pretty much a foreign concept.

So it happened in the 10^th grade, in the middle of the year, and I was in 2^nd period Geometry with a rather severe older and never-married teacher named Miss Hurst. While I had spent my elementary school years considered something of a math prodigy, unfortunately I’d gone off course, largely due to some pretty poor teachers, and had become disenchanted with math.

On this particular day, Miss Hurst was roaming her roost and, to my dismay, directed me to go to the chalkboard in front of the class and produce the theorem and related proof that had been part of our homework. For whatever reason (I take full responsibility for my failure), I had not done the work and walked to the board with slumped shoulders, feeling her gaze and the gaze of the thirty some other students upon my back. There was complete silence as I stood in front of the board. No encouragement from my teacher. No exit strategy. My goose was cooked. I just stood there, defeated.

And then, I prayed. I don’t know who or what I prayed to. It just came out as a kind of pathetic plea for help. “Please!!”

And, at that very instant, the fire alarm bell rang.

I jerked to attention, feeling bewildered, filing out of the room with the teacher and other students while in a kind of daze, adding as I went another plea. That the fire drill would last until the end of the period. Which it did.

Chalk one up for an early proof in the existence of God.

So, why am I bringing this kind of thing up in a piece which ostensibly is about hearing God?

I believe the short answer is that we’re really talking about communicating with God and that “arrow prayers” are a common way we naturally communicate. “Here I am, Lord. I have something to say!”

In a very real sense, these are examples of one-way communication. Which, if we really think about it, kind of gives a back seat to the reverse flow: That is, God talking back.

We’ll get to a discussion of how God talks back but let’s first ask, “What’s the point in communicating in the first place?”

I’ve heard from some really wise people about this over the years. And, I’ve grown in experience that reflects a lot of this wisdom.

To put it simply, God wants to be in relationship with us. And, relationship is obviously a two-way street. It takes two to dance. At least a dance with love as the music.

We can all imagine a real-world scenario when one person in a two-person couple does all of the talking, always asking for favors. It sort of defeats the idea of balance, of a healthy give-and-take that helps the relationship to grow and blossom.

None of this is to mean that God doesn’t want us to share our requests and concerns with him. Our fears and anxieties. The deepest pleas of our hearts. In fact, he wants us to share everything with him. (Remember Jesus’ first commandment?). Our joys and sorrow. Our successes and failures. They can be big ones such as asking for medical healing or they can be smaller ones like asking for a parking space. He doesn’t care so much about the object of our plea but, instead, the fact that we’re seeking him out. And, let’s remember, he being God and all, he already knows everything about our thoughts! Nothing we ask is a surprise.

(Now I will say here that I’m not going into a discussion of why certain prayers “work” and certain ones don’t. I’m not going to address free will or predestination or what it means for God to be outside of time when we’re in it. While those things are related to this overall topic, it’s just too much to engage here.)

Instead, let’s look at prayer as the way we commune with God. The way we interact with God. The way that we acknowledge his tremendous presence and influence in our lives.

One of the earliest influences upon me in this direction came from a tiny little book by a 17^th century friar named Brother Lawrence, entitled, Practice of the Presence of God. I used to keep it by my desk at work, so I would be reminded of its truths. With beautiful humility, Brother Lawrence described a framework that was basically non-stop praying. But, not praying in the sense I’ve been describing. It was more a continuous acknowledgment of the fact that God is always present and such a realization is completely transformational.

I’m no Brother Lawrence but I get his point and reflect upon it fairly frequently.

Jesus modeled a life of prayer during his public ministry. But he actually instructed his disciples on it by clearly teaching the most famous prayer of all time.That prayer begins with

“Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.”

I have written about this entire prayer (these words and those that follow) before. But, let’s just pause and take a quick look at this starting point. I promise it will eventually lead back to this thing about hearing God.

Without going into depth, what is commonly referred to as The Lord’s Prayer, begins with a vivid declaration of who God is and how he is involved in every aspect of creation, down to the minutest of details in our own mortal lives. In other words, he is holy, he is ever-present, and he will get his will done, one way or the other.

Taking that a step further, when we speak and mean these words, we deeply recognize who it is we’re talking to and where we stand in the scheme of things. This is the first truth about prayer. Do we know who we’re talking to?

One of the most common techniques that some Christians use to help focus their prayer life is to use a system that is contained in the acronym ACTS, which stands for Adoration,Confession, Thanksgivingand Supplication. Briefly, that means the period of “prayer” begins with a time of praising and honoring God for who he truly is. This is then followed by a reverential admission that we fall very short of leading the kind of life he seeks for us, making poor choices on a frequent basis. The third piece is to acknowledge the bounty that surrounds us; the gratitude we have for so much in our own lives and the lives of others. The final piece involves those “arrow” requests: Pleas for our own needs and the needs of others.

Of course, there are other methods of prayer, such as meditating on a phrase or even just sitting in silence, letting the mind go but, once remembered, bringing it back to focus on some specific thing about who God is and who we are in relationship with him.

So, the bottom line is this. What we can call prayer is really a way to connect with God and that begins with the recognition that we are in a relationship. A real relationship. The most important relationship of all.

And, a funny thing happens when we stop doing all of the talking. When we shut off the noise that invades our consciousness from seemingly every direction. When we seek not just solutions to many of life’s real problems and challenges; instead seeking God just for the sake of seeking God, he frequently shows up.

There are a great many instances in scriptures when prophets such as Isaiah, and even Jesus, ask us whether we have “the eyes to see and the ears to hear.” Or, merely instruct us with the likes of, “knock and it shall be opened. And, seek and you shall find.”

If we want to hear God, we need to know how to knock and what it is that we’re looking for. Whether the knocking is born from pure desperation or from a genuine interest to know God, both our heads and our hearts need to be in the game. If we want to know who and what is on the other side of the door, all we have to do is ask.

We’ll see where that leads next time.

Yesterday morning, I had a long leisurely visit with my friend, Hoan, over coffee and a light breakfast. Hoan was born in Vietnam some 65 years ago and you pronounce his name like the Hispanic “Juan.” He and I get together every few months and have been doing so for probably seven or eight years. We normally have a free-ranging discussion about life, our families, our jobs, our travels and our common faith. Hoan is a Christian who speaks English, Vietnamese and French and has one of the most remarkable stories I’ve ever heard. He is a humble man with a huge smile, who by all measures, should not have survived the fall of South Vietnam, nor his eventual horrific escape in a small boat into the South China Sea. Compared with Hoan, I’ve never had any problems.

Among the many the topics we touched upon in our visit was that of hearing God. Interestingly, this same topic came up a week ago in another discussion within a larger group of about 30 people. It’s certainly not a topic that graces your normal conversation, say in usual social settings. “Hey, has anyone here heard God recently? Yeah? Well, what did he say?”

Some of you of a certain age may remember the movie, “Oh God!”with John Denver as the everyman supermarket manager and George Burns as God. I really enjoyed that movie. Who wouldn’t? The simple premise is that God (the elderly and wonderful Burns) decided to actually speak with Denver and even show up physically. Denver, of course, didn’t buy that it was actually God speaking with him until Burns proved it in some hilarious ways. Then, Denver wanted to know why God was talking with him, just a regular guy, to which Burns basically said, “why not?” Furthermore, Denver was to be his messenger to the world. This was not received well by Denver. Not at all. Talk about being reluctant, but God couldn’t have cared less, basically responding, “You’re my guy and you’re on my team. Get over it!”

Of course, it’s quite an entertainment industry that seeks to show how God communicates with mortals. Movies and TV shows. Angels acting out all sorts of scenarios. I even saw mention that there’s one new show where a devil and angel are basically in cahoots. Whatever.

But, when you cut away the fluff and get down to it, do we really believe God speaks and, if so, what’s the deal? How, when, why, and so forth?

Now, I’ve read books on this and have been in more than a few discussions so this is not a new topic. It’s also not an easy one to unpack.

Hoan and I were speaking about this, in the context of how or whether God answers prayers and in what way he gives us direction, especially when we’re facing complicated stuff.

I am not of the school of God as Genie in the Bottle. Apparently, in the Vietnam of the early 1960s, there were no cartoons of such genies, nor a TV show like I Dream of Genie. So, of course, my mention of this resulted in a kind of blank stare from my friend. Hoan hadn’t heard of genies but he’s a quick learner when I explained the “Master, you get three wishes for releasing me from captivity,” offer from the very relieved big blue creature.

I bring this up because many people, Christians and otherwise, think God exists to give us what we think we need. But the problem arises that, when we ask him for such and such, he frequently doesn’t respond. Silence. No fix to the problem, which can either be simply annoying or deeply troubling, especially when we or our loved ones face deep crises.

I had a friend who I haven’t seen in some years now, a highly educated and committed Christian, who was facing a pretty big problem, and he was relentless in asking God to show him signs on how to fix the problem. My friend was really suffering and became extremely upset at the continuation of the problem, with no apparent response from God. It didn’t seem to make him disbelieve in God but it surely made him angry and bitter. I once asked him, after a great deal of hearing about this, whether he kind of like expected one of those huge electronic signs that hang over the freeways to light up with his name and some sort of message from God. He didn’t take offense with the question because I asked it in a fairly compassionate tone but he answered, in essence, “yes.”

I don’t think that’s how God normally communicates.

But, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t communicate with us frequently, which can be quite an extraordinary thing.

I actually met Hoan after hearing from God.

Now, many of you who know me, or have followed these ramblings, know that I claim I actually heard, in full audio mode, God’s voice. I’ve testified to that privately and publicly many times. That was a truly earth-shattering event and I can understand the plight of John Denver. When God (you know, that God) breaks through all of reality and speaks directly into your left ear as if he was right next to you and a little bit taller, it’s a game changer.

And, it’s also very rare.

Fortunately, God finds a number of other ways to “speak” to and with us.

And, one of those times happened when I met Hoan.

Some of you have heard this story but it’s always good in the re-telling. One of the reasons it’s a good story (that happens to be completely true) is that it shows how God can show up completely unexpectedly and the results can be astonishing.

Picture this: Several hundred of us gathering in the Vista branch of the San Diego Superior Court’s main Jury Room. Most of you have had that experience. It’s early in the morning and we’ve all answered the call to serve, a decent number of whom are more than a little reluctant. But, the law is the law and duty is duty (sixth amendment to the Constitution and all of that). I got there early this time, having taken the day off of my job as a school district assistant superintendent. I found an electric outlet on the wall immediately adjacent to me so I could plug in my laptop and get some work done. I went about inserting my ear buds and settled down for the requisite wait.

Shortly afterwards, a man sat down in the chair immediately to my left. Like everyone else, we listened to the usual spiel, filled out the forms and then got about our business of waiting. He and I engaged in no small talk. I had the wall to my right and a strange man to my left, a laptop and earbuds, and a pile of work to get done.

A little time went by and then I “heard” a voice.

Now, this is where things can get dicey.

It would be right for some to ask me to define “heard.” To which I’d have to honestly say it wasn’t a real voice (not like that one time) but it was rather like a thought out of nowhere. A thought that had no connection with what I was focused on. It wasn’t like a “daydream” thought such as, “I’d really, really rather be somewhere else than here.” No, it was a completely out-of-context thought. I would say it was mostly like a message. And, there was nothing ambiguous about it.

I heard exactly “talk to him.”

 Yes, that’s right. “Talk to him.”

Admittedly, this was not the first time I’d had something like this happen to me since I’d surrendered in 2005. For the record, I was not unfamiliar with the concept of how God can communicate and I’d been the welcome beneficiary of some of that communication. However, I don’t remember hearing such a direct message telling me to do a very specific thing at that specific moment. This was something a bit different.

Feeling that I could easily ignore the message as, well, men don’t just approach strange men for no reason (plus I was busy), I chose to do just that. Ignore it and keep working on my laptop.

Funny thing, though, about God. He’s not easily dissuaded when he gets his mind up. (Ask John Denver.)

So, a few minutes later, here it came again, “Talk to him.”

This time, I probably sighed a bit and said back, in my mind’s reply, something to the effect, “I don’t want to. He’ll probably think I’m weird and I just don’t feel like it.” And I went back to work.

You know what happened next. A few minutes later, here it was again. Relentless. “Talk to him.”

At this point, I knew I was trapped. I mean who, after all, gets such specific directions out of the blue to stop what they’re doing and change course? I also knew I was left with no choice. I didn’t doubt it was from God because it fit the formula. Perhaps more on that later.

So, reluctantly, I turned to this strange man who had made no overtures to try to engage with me, who had been sitting quietly (perhaps reading, if my memory serves). And, I said, “Hey, how are you?”

I honestly don’t remember what exactly transpired in the next few moments but I do know that two hours later, I had heard his life story which completely captivated me on more levels than I can describe here. And, by the time we eventually parted company, we had one another’s contact information and the rest is history. We’ve been close ever since and count each other as one of the great blessings in our lives.

All because I wasn’t quite obstinate enough to continue ignoring God.

You can’t make this stuff up.

This wasn’t the last time something like this has happened to me. And, I’ve never, never been disappointed for having obeyed, even when I’ve done so reluctantly.

In my follow-up, I hope to dive a bit deeper into what’s happening in situations like this and how, perhaps, we can pay closer attention to how it can effect our lives.

Note to Readers: I actually drafted a good portion of this  piece a number of months ago but didn’t get around to publishing it. To be honest, I sort of forgot about it until I’d already completed my most recent series. I realized that, while there is certainly overlap, there are some differences. I’ve tried to clean away some of that overlap and here is what remains.

* * * * *

How many of us wake up each morning, look around at our lives and surroundings, our circumstances and ask, “What’s the point?”

Probably some of us do. Maybe the question is so powerful that we can’t help but sigh, feeling the burden of facing the same challenges each day, with no real end in sight.

For others of us, perhaps that question quietly percolates in the background, not particularly obvious but not fully absent either.

In fact, we all need a reason to keep on going, to take action in order to proceed through life. Show me a person who has no such reason, and I’ll show you a person who is already dying.

Does the following internal monologue sound even vaguely familiar?

Yes, I’ve sought this or that, with some successes, plenty of failures, periods of happiness, even joy, and periods of sadness, even grief. I’ve been in and out of relationships, some short and some long, even quite long. I’ve felt the rush at finding someone I truly like who seems to like me. I’ve also felt the heartache of rejection. I can quickly recall that phone call offering me a long sought-after job, with perhaps a celebration dinner that evening with family or friends. I’ve also felt the creeping dissatisfaction with a job, the encroaching burden that not-so-subtly whispers that maybe I’m actually not in the right place after all. I’ve moved from point to point, learning the fact that little if anything lasts forever and even if it seems to, it’s really not the same as I first thought.

We each began our lives with an idea, two people making a decision, the result of which (planned or not) was us. Cells divided strictly according to a pre-ordained code. Months afterwards, we arrive as fully formed human beings. Later, our bodies give out, the system submitting to frailty, and our lives end. The countless points in the middle reflect the common journey mentioned above.

Is there no reason for any of this, other than the onward march of physical, chemical and biological forces? Is there a point, after all is said and done? Do I have a purpose, once born, other than to eat, stay alive and procreate before I die? If not, then what is my value, when you stop to think about it? Perhaps I’m just an infinitesimally small cog in a vast cosmic machine that cares nothing for me. A kind of cork bobbling in the middle of a vast ocean, easily missed, and of no real consequence?

Maybe I’m stepping out on a limb, but, I’ll suggest all of us crave a purpose, whether we choose to think about it or not. We want our lives to have some value, whatever it may be. In fact, each of us wants to mean something when all it is said and done. Purpose. Value. Meaning.

Is this just wishful thinking or is there something to this? If there isn’t anything there, then what’s the point to getting out of bed? What’s the point to us looking forward to anything? Why should we care what others think? Why do we want to belong to something, do anything? Just as we hunger for food to sustain us, we also hunger for significance, a different type of sustenance but just as important.

When things don’t go well or worse, don’t we naturally ask “Why? Why me? This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be.” I suggest that this plea, however soft or loud, is just a way for us to give voice to the belief that we’re meant for something else. That this bad or unfortunate thing is a rejection of what we value and, therefore, a rejection of us.

When things go well, we can tend to doubt, wondering how long the good times will last. When will the next shoe fall? Perhaps the natural optimist doesn’t think this way but, assuredly, the natural pessimist or the one who endured trial after trial is likely to have such thoughts. Regardless, unless we are Pollyana, we know that some kind of suffering isn’t all that too far off.

Most of us travel through life, flitting from one thing to the next, hoping for fulfillment, which is another way of saying we seek answers to questions we may not know we even have. The hope is a constant feature and a sign pointing to a place where we have purpose, are valued, and where life is meaningful.

I should know. For some reason (time and place, family histories and dispositions), I felt this kind of tug beginning in early adolescence, growing up in the turbulent 1960s where it was expected I could not be a bystander to the great causes facing us. Many voices combined in telling me that my life should mean something. I needed to dig in. Become involved. Try to leave the world a better place for my connection to it.

In the decades that followed, college, profession, marriage, and family all formed a life of its own, with me at center stage. Relationships, things, and events were all punctuated by joys and sorrows, victories and defeats, none of them unfolding exactly according to my desires.

For all sorts of reasons, I woke up one night, a number of years ago, with the realization I was hopelessly lost (which would have seemed absurd to all who knew me, be they wife and family, friends or colleagues). I was commonly recognized as accomplished and successful. I had a beautiful and loving family, had overcome life-threatening illnesses, was at the pinnacle of my profession, receiving consistent accolades, and was fit and active.

But it all tumbled like a house of cards facing just the slightest breath of wind.

The desperation I felt then would have more commonly been typical of the long-suffering addict on the street or the victim of abuse and violence, unable to escape the endless cycle. How is that possible?

The answer is, it’s possible because we are all after the same thing. But it turned out I was actually chasing the wrong things, just as many of us are. There is a difference.

My belief is that we’re all wired to seek the same thing but we don’t know how to find it so we end up going down pathways that nearly always disappoint.

In retrospect, I probably should have known better because I’d thought about these things for a very long time. Which is an irony. It shows we’re all made of the same stuff and vulnerable to the same misdirection.

Now some might interject here that I’m being too harsh. Too general. Painting everyone with the same broad brushstrokes. And I can understand that criticism. Someone could say to me, “my life is actually pretty good. It turned out fairly close to how I wanted it. In balance, I’m quite content and I haven’t been seeking answers to the kinds of questions you’re talking about.”

A recent American Psychiatric Association study found that nearly two thirds of Americans are “extremely or somewhat anxious about health and safety for themselves and their families and more than a third are more anxious overall than last year.” In a separate study, interestingly, there was a direct correlation between higher income level and levels of anxiety. This included cultures around the world. In other words, the prosperity achieved in wealthier communities and population resulted in heightened anxiety. In still another study by the APA of 20,000 random people, it was discovered that nearly 50% suffer from loneliness, which is on the increase in our society.

These are examples of large groups of people who feel disconnected and ill at ease. I can’t count the studies and journal articles I’ve read in recent years that describe the rise in alienation while the world has never been more prosperous.

Of course, there are significant groups of people that face daily trials, including finding food and clean drinking water and safe havens from violence and persecution. Maybe an explanation can be that those with high expectations for material gain are the most susceptible to dashed hopes. Attaining material advantage is actually a source for anxiety and loneliness. Or, in the terms I’m using, these advantages do not answer our inner drive for a sense of purpose, clarity of what is truly valuable, and what is the meaning of our lives. We smirk a bit at the popular adage that “he who dies with the most toys win.” I might flip that a bit and say, “he who seeks the most toys, hoping for fulfillment, actually loses in the end.”

So, on the one hand, we frequently have hope but that hope can morph into the realization that it never lasts. All good things come to an end. On the other hand, we can try to come to grips with the essence of what this failure is actually telling us.

With that in mind, let’s now turn to the common Christian belief that we are all broken. No one escapes. Observed outside of the Christian context, this might seem peculiar. Brokenness sounds pretty extreme. Anxious perhaps. Lonely maybe. But broken?

When something is broken it means it isn’t working as it was designed. We can’t be broken, even a little, if we weren’t designed for much. Each of us wants to be in touch with that design which is where we can discover our purpose, our value and the meaning of our lives.

Now, some people have no problem knowing they’re broken. It’s the most obvious thing they live each day. One way to characterize brokenness is the place we are when we wonder how to put one foot in front of the next without crumbling. It’s the place we are when time moves forward with interminable slowness. The minutes and hours drag on, relentlessly. It takes seemingly Herculean effort to get out of bed. We pull back from relationships. We welcome sleep until the nightmares take over. Many different things can bring about this state of affairs. Anyone reading this will either have experienced it or knows someone who has. Or is.

On the other hand, plenty of people do not connect with something like being broken. Perhaps they’ve lived a fairly charmed life. Never known physical privation from poverty or illness or violence. Never known the kind of rejection that completely tears at the soul, slicing away all semblance of self-worth. “What, me broken? Set-backs, perhaps, battling here and there. But, broken? No.”

Regardless, most of us come to a place, sooner or later, when we realize that our own efforts cannot keep the beast at bay. We will realize we are weak and in that weakness we will ask the question, what’s the point? This is true, even for those who have lived a fairly charmed life and, nearing the end, look back without any regrets. I hazard the guess that all will find some reason or set of reasons why their life had purpose, value and meaning.

So far, I’m trying to build the case that, first, all of us search for purpose in our lives even if we don’t recognize that is what we are doing. All of us want to feel that we provide value of some kind and all of us want that purpose and that value to be meaningful. Second, material advantages actually increase alienation and a loss of purpose and ultimate fulfillment. And, third, huge numbers of people suffer from that loss of purpose, even to the point of being broken.

Ok. Where does this lead? If I buy into some piece of these ideas, how do I discover my purpose? How do I peel away the layers to better understand the fundamental value of my life? When all is said and done, what does my life really mean?

I always learn something when I explore these things a bit deeper.

When I’ve discussed this theme with people, I like to begin with an either/or question. Pick one answer out of two. On the one hand, are we just the result of random and coincidental forces that brought subatomic particles together to make us?

The question is really another way of coming to grips with our purpose. Which is another way of answering the question, what is my value? If I’m more than miniscule particles created when distant stars exploded billions of year ago, what am I? What am I worth? Do I have a purpose beyond eating, surviving and procreating? If not, what is life about? If so, how do I find it?

Oh, of course, there are all sorts of answers that immediately come to mind. My purpose is to have a family, to give love and life to others. My purpose is to be part of a broad movement of people joined together in a great cause to start this, fight that, believe in something important.

But, if we do have a purpose, where does that come from?

In some limited fashion, plants, animals, rocks and rivers each have a purpose. They do what they are designed to do. It does not matter, for this discussion, whether the purpose for each is the result of natural evolution, supernatural creation, or exploding stars.

Similarly, in loose fashion, they provide value. On earth, rocks create a platform for soil and the things that come from the soil. Rivers create broad platforms for abundant life. Plants also provide platforms for abundant life, including oxygen, consumed by animate lifeforms. Animals benefit from all these things although, while conscious, they don’t have a way of understanding what it all means.

Only humans, among all known things, are able to go from purpose to value to meaning. Only humans can ask the question, “Where does all of this come from?”

Only humans can ask “What does it mean to be human?” Only humans can figure out that knowing one’s purpose is a way of identifying what makes me, “me.”

Am I just particles of stardust like everything else, thereby irrelevant in the grand scheme of things? Or, am I relevant? Does my life mean anything, when you get down to it?

In fact, as I said at the beginning, everyone is in search for purpose, for a sense of value, for wondering why it’s important to get up in the morning and do anything. This universal truth, whether recognized consciously or not, is a defining characteristic of being human.

Which brings us to the fundamental question of where this comes from. Nebulae (exploding stars) cast out massive amounts of energy and matter into the cosmos, afterwards collecting as building blocks for things like plants, animals, rocks and rivers. And us. Us We? being the only result that wonders if we’re relevant and where that relevancy comes from.

Absent a universal truth (which is one way of saying there is a fact that exists behind all other facts or all other feelings or all other assumptions), we’re just accidents. Accidental results of physical, chemical and biological forces that have no stake in the game. We are born, survive, procreate (possibly) and die. That’s it. Or is it?

But, there’s this voice, or echo of a voice, that rumbles around somewhere in our consciousness that says there’s more to the story.

The anti-theist, one who has faith that there is no supernatural force apart from the physical, chemical or biological just mentioned, will insist that this voice or echo is merely psychological wish-fulfillment, a search for ultimate meaning when there is none. Philosophers have followed this logic like a thread, leading to a conclusion. It terminates in something called nihilism (“life is meaningless”), perhaps the subject of another piece. Feel free to look it up.

Some of us decide that this is all too complicated. It’s much easier to just go about our lives and do the best we can. Many of us choose to either disregard the voice or echo, or to suppress it, not wanting to see where it might lead.

I should know. Like many of us, I heard the voice/echo many, many years ago, at times listening and wondering, at other times dismissive and unwilling to follow the thread so see where it ended up. Of course, I found a lot of meaning in my life through my family, friends, profession, participation in causes and so on. But, I didn’t fully confront the question of why. I didn’t fully confront the question of whether I actually had a fundamental purpose that underlay all other purposes.

And then, as hard as it was, I followed the thread, bit by bit, struggle after struggle, often reluctant to learn what was just around the next bend. But, persistence was born by need and, in the end it paid off beyond all of my expectations.

Dear friends who may be reading this, my hope and prayer is that you seek the voice or its echo and look for the thread that will take you on a journey where you will discover the answer in your search for meaning.