Bringing Faith to Life
Archive for September, 2016
Sidedness is natural, but let’s mind the gap when we board the bias bus
1We’re born discriminating, distinguishing, and differentiating because we’re born very, very near-sighted.
Our first job in life is to distinguish ourselves from the world. To determine what’s us and not them. This hand I see, the one that moved when I thought ‘move’, it moved! That hanging thing that flung when I thought the move and meant ‘fling’, I did that! That hand belongs to me!
But that face I see, that gets close, big and round and noisy, what is it? It doesn’t move when I think move. I can reach out and touch it, but it’s separate from me. It’s different from me. It’s not part of me. It’s not me.
Who am I? What am I? This is the objective of growth.
We learn to walk, in baby steps. Tipping, teetering, flailing, falling because we’re born very, very imbalanced.
Our second job in life is to move in our world. The challenge is keeping our balance. Footholds are unsure and pavement is uneven. Our eyes learn to distinguish what is taller, what is shorter. This is closer; that is further. Spatial discrimination allows us to judge where to put our foot, how long to stride, so we can gauge how far to go, and how far we’ve gone.
Where am I? How did I get here? This is the objective of movement.
We learn to run, faster, slower, modulating effort based on terrain and conditioning because we enter the race with very little sense of pace.
Our third job in life is to navigate in our world. Now with distance vision, we wonder…Where to go. What to take with us. How much to give. How much to take. What’s it worth to you? What’s it worth to me? If there is a cost, can I pay it? Can I absorb it? What’s the proper response? How do you react when I say this or do that?
Not only am I not you, but I don’t know you.
I’m different from you, distinct from you.
I don’t think like you do.
Don’t dress like you do.
Don’t worship like you do.
Ok.
Didn’t know that about you.
Didn’t know that about me.
Whoa. Then who am I?
I’m sure not you.
That’s cool! Tell me about you.
Our fourth job in life is to find our place. Look what I can do! I prefer my right hand. I favor my left foot. My right eye is dominant, but I’m left-brained. When I fold my hands, I put my right thumb on top. Oh my gosh…you don’t?! I thought everybody did. What else can’t you do?
Can you roll your tongue? Can you whistle? Can you snap? Can you make the Vulcan sign, “Live long and proper.” Sure you can. It’s like this. Let me show you. But some really can’t. Whoa. If this is preferred over that, and he is favored over her, then which side am I on? Because there’s a winning side and I want to be on it.
The world takes over there. It rewards and punishes. It dichotomizes. It separates. And the bias we came with – our ability to differentiate, to distinguish self from not self, foreground from background, distant from nearby – what was intended for our growth, ambulation, and navigation, which were all meant for our distinction, is adulterated. It becomes our nature to use it for our advantage.
We are created human, propelled into being. When we take sides, we down-shift into doing. We throttle down, engine roaring, we sprint to the finish line, plowing through our fellow humans. Each of those has dreams, as we do. Each strains to hear that singular hushed voice which hopes.
But that’s not our voice.
Our voice has volume.
Our eyes are narrowed.
Our minds are focused.
On what we already know.
We look for confirmation of what we’ve already decided.
We listen for affirmation of what we already admire.
we are supporters.
we are fans.
we’ve taken sides.
Bias? Why yes. we were born with it.
Bias is natural, but it’s not terminal.
It need not be fatal.
Mind the gap.
Which do you believe?
0“There’s probably no God so stop worrying and enjoy life”
…read the back of the service van
weaving through the crowds gathered
to marvel at St. Stephen’s Cathedral,
where all are welcome to enter
free of charge.
When ‘probably not’
opens the door to ‘possibly is’
the great bolt of worry
slides aside to unlock a
Joy greater than
Life itself.
What if we entered in?
Reconstruction Zone
0Building from the ground uP
is beautiful.
Neat.
Clean.
Polished.
Precise.
But
Remodeling from the inside OUT
is messy.
Ripping.
Rending.
Gashes.
Holes.
Cover it over with
shiny granite,
sparkling porcelain,
brushed nickel,
stainless steel.
Impregnable, in its newness.
No one will ever
see what’s under
the remodeling.
Thank God
only Me and Thee
have seen it.
We know the condition
under the addition.
Hard years won.
Make-over done.
Make-under
still in progress.
Painful
but
Grateful
Body Language of Nature’s Beauty
0I can read you like a …rose.
Oops, I petaled.
Pick me!!! Pick me!!!
I can almost reach!
Tightly wound.
I wonder…
The tall sister
En pointe
Overachievers…
in the palm of Your hand
“I’ll let you know.”
Who’s next?
Safe, Steady and Sturdy
I’m not ready
I’m so sorry
When Hide and Seek Becomes Here I am
18 years
Ready or not, here I come!”
I always loved hearing those words because that’s when the fun really began. I knew all the best hiding places around our house. In the stairwell, behind the bushes, between the pine trees, by the swing set… What made them good was this: you could see the seeker, but they couldn’t see you. You had to hold your breath as they came near so you didn’t give yourself away, and then as soon as they went past, you sprinted for home base. “Safe!” you hollered when you got there.
Recently I heard a different take on this game. The author of a devotional piece shared that as a little boy, he always won at hide and seek. His hiding places were so good that no one ever found him. Some years later he realized that the reason he was never found was because no one looked for him. “It’s easy to hide when no one is seeking you,” he wrote.
How devastated that young man must have been. It was obvious that even now as a grown man, the memory of those days still deflated him. But he took comfort in the story told of a Biblical version of hide and seek:
(Adam and Eve) “heard the sound of the Lord God as he was walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and they hid from the Lord God among the trees of the garden. But the Lord God called to the man, “Where are you?” ~ Genesis 3:8-9
I wonder what hiding felt like to Adam and Eve. Did they hold their breath hoping God would pass? Did they hope God would find the other first, so they could save themselves and sprint to safety? Did they consider giving themselves up in hopes God would go easy on them? Maybe just play it dumb and pretend nothing happened? All good until your fig leaf completely gives you away.
I guess we humans have always been pretty fond of hiding. We find some clever ways to disguise our indiscretions and downplay our inadequacies, hoping God will move along without taking a discriminating look. The irony is, God has no reason at all to come looking for us (Psalm 139) and yet He does anyway. Not because he doesn’t know where to find us but because we all have something to hide. He knows that once it’s out in the open, the game can change.
I remember playing hide and seek with my young children who, back then, weren’t so good at hiding. I knew all their usual hiding places, and even if I couldn’t see them, I would hear them. They would nearly always give themselves away with the muffled snickers. I would pretend not to see them, of course, because that’s the fun of the game.
“Now where can she be?” I wondered, just loudly enough for my daughter, who is mostly wedged under the bed except for the two sneakers sticking out, to hear. The sneakers wiggle as she chortles.
“Hmmm. Is she here?” I say, looking under her desk. “Nope. Maybe here?” I try, opening the closet doors wide and with much fanfare. “Nooo,” I say with a melodramatic sigh of resignation and defeat. “Where could she possibly be hiding?”
Of course by now she can’t contain herself. “Here I am, Mommy!” she shouts, as she bursts out from hiding. Then she runs and throws both arms around me to give me a big hug. “Mommy, you were so close, but you didn’t see me!” Of course I would never tell her that I knew where she was hiding the whole time. That would ruin the game. Her favorite part is the ‘Here I Am, Mommy!’
I am grateful to know that God is a seeking God, and that He comes looking for me, even when he knows exactly where I am hiding and exactly what I have to hide. If I listen carefully I can probably hear Him bashing around a bit in the underbrush to give me fair warning. If God loves me the way I love my children, then his favorite part is probably the “Here I am” hug, too.
Then, of course, I am standing there in my fig leaf.
Thanks to Christ, God is okay with that, too.
Search me, God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting. ~ Psalm 139: 23-24
Playing to win a game we all know we will lose: It’s the game that makes winners of us
0I just love to compete! folks say to me, pretty much never.
I’m not the competitive type, they say, pretty much always.
And then they cut each other off in conversation. One-up each other in accomplishments. Go off about something on Facebook. Cannot believe that offending patron! Swerve around that maniac who is texting while driving. While on the way to run this place the way it should be run. Every day. Even on Sundays.
Not competitive, though. We’re above this. Don’t dirty my hands with that sort of thing. It will all work out in the end, they say. Always does, right? Let’s not keep score. That way, everyone wins. Everyone goes home happy.
Nope. Not the competitive type.
Watch out for these folks. Don’t let ’em fool you. Because last time I checked we were all doing the same thing: playing to win at a game none of us can avoid losing.
What these people who ‘don’t like to compete’ are really saying is that they don’t like to keep score. They don’t want to be measured, because measuring shows where we stand. It tells how we’re doing, how far we’ve come, and which direction we’re moving.
It shows us who is ahead which is, for now, who is winning.
Oh, but quantifying this makes it so cold and unforgiving, they say. Where is your compassion? your kindness? your empathy? Where is your humanity, woman?
***
Daniel Murphy just loves to compete.
As he strides to the plate we know his current batting average, his on-base percentage, his tally of homeruns, RBIs, and extra base hits. We know how well he does with runners in scoring position, how many times he’s walked, been hit by a pitch and scored. We know how many times he has faced this particular pitcher, how he’s fared, and therefore, how this particular match-up is likely to go.
We love measuring. we love predicting. we love evaluating the odds to see what the chances are. These days we know everything because we measure it. everything, that is, except what will happen this time.
The only one paying no attention is Daniel Murphy. He’s just looking for a hit.
He’s not thinking about the hours of preparation that brought him to this moment. He’s not worrying about the last time he faced this pitcher. He’s even immune to the boo’s from the crowd (which, may I say NY, is poor form?) which actually signify how well he’s done against his former team.
No. Murphy has one thing on his mind: this pitch. And with all of the wizardry he can muster and all of the artistry at his command, he is focused on getting his bat on this ball and putting it somewhere where no one can catch it. He’s looking to get on base. And then to get to the next base and the next and then finally home.
Daniel’s serious about this game. He plays to win it. And he seems to be having the time of his life!
Fast balls, curve balls, splitters, cutters and change-ups. Bring ’em high and tight or low and outside. Throw ’em all. The best in the game do, as the best in the game will. That’s what he knows will make him the best in the game. That’s the fun of it.
Who’d want to play a game where there was no winner? We’re made to measure.