With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. James 3:9-10 (NIV)
Wendy and I were on our way to worship this past Sunday morning. We were having a conversation about an individual who had made some major mistakes in leadership which led to many painful and widespread consequences.
“They were worthless at the job,” I said as I drove.
“Let’s say they were ‘incapable’ at the job,” Wendy said softly but directly. “No one is ‘worthless.’”
She was so, so correct.
“I’m trying to be more careful about the words I use when speaking of others,” she then added.
I immediately apologized and accepted my error. I need to be more careful with my words.
This episode in the car with Wendy happened amidst the final editing process of my upcoming book. In the process of editing my original manuscript, my editor pointed out a similarly painful observation. She noticed that I at times used harsh language when I wrote about certain individuals I had encountered along my career. She felt it was important enough that she point it out to me.
“I know your heart, Tom,” she said to me. “And, this is not the person you want to be. I knew you’d want me to be honest about what I’m seeing.”
Ugh. I have a blind spot.
Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner.
Some mornings as I read and meditate on the chapter I have to dig deep to mine what God has for me in the text. Other mornings, it simply jumps off the page and slaps me across the face.
That was this morning.
Most of today’s chapter James focuses on the power of the tongue. It’s such a small part of our physical whole yet it has disproportionate affect. James likens it to the rudder of a ship as it can steer me in the wrong direction. He likens it to a spark that can unleash a wildfire of conflict and controversy I didn’t intend.
As I meditated on it this morning I likened it to a living cardiogram — my words revealing symptoms of heart trouble. Harsh, rash words about others are indicators that bitterness, anger, and contempt have been building up inside like plaque in my spiritual arteries.
And so, I find myself sitting here in the quiet knowing there are some things I need to do.
First, I need to take some time for introspection. I need to ask God to help me take an honest look inside at where some ugly thoughts and feelings about others have been building up inside me.
Next comes confession. As I discover where that build-up of bitterness is hiding and with whom I’m harboring ill-will, I need to use my tongue to honestly speak it out loud to God and members of my inner-circle with whom I know I am safe and am surrounded by love and grace.
Finally, I need to be accountable. A diabetic constantly monitors their blood-sugar to watch for signs of a problem. I need to better monitor my words, especially when I’m speaking about others. Once again, my inner-circle are my best source for that assistance.
I have discovered a problem. I have been given a prescription. Now — by grace — I must take the medicine.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
But you, man of God, flee from all this, and pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness. 1 Timothy 6:11 (NIV)
I was a bit surprised by the invitation. The person who asked me for coffee was on the periphery of my circles of influence, but they seemed pleasant and I looked forward to getting to know them better. We settled in at the coffee shop and began the normal get-to-know-you small talk.
It didn’t take long to for me to realize that this conversation was not going as I expected. I had not been invited to coffee to deepen a relationship. I’d been invited to a sales presentation. I’d been blind-sided. The individual was obviously passionate about what they were selling. They were knowledgable about the product, they had the pitch down, and they were intent on making the sale.
I didn’t buy. I didn’t hear from the person again. They weren’t pursuing a relationship with me. They were pursuing a sale and the money it would put in their pocket. It didn’t give me a good feeling.
Along my life journey I’ve observed that you can learn a lot about a person by what they pursue. I spend a lot of time in one-on-one networking meetings online. An icebreaker question I get asked all the time is “What are your hobbies? What do you love to do?”
I kind of hate that question because I don’t have a simple go-to answer. I don’t play golf or a sports related activity. We don’t camp. I don’t have a sprawling collection of postage stamps or baseball cards. I have things with which I dabble, but I wouldn’t call them regular go-to hobbies. The honest answer is that what Wendy and I really love more than anything else is sitting down to a nice meal, with good wine, and great people who like to talk about life for hours. Our friend Matthew calls it “conversations with Life.” That’s our hobby and we engage in it regularly.
In today’s closing chapter, Paul concludes his letter to young Timothy by describing the things he should flee (greed, love of money, love of things, discontentment, unprofitable arguments and controversies) and the things he should pursue (righteousness, godliness, faith, love, endurance and gentleness).
As I meditated on this in the quiet this morning, it struck me that what we actively pursue in life isn’t a trivial matter. It’s important for me to think about what it is I am actively pursuing in life, and what it says about me, my heart, and my desires. Paul’s point is that we make conscious choices all the time regarding the things we flee and avoid the things we pursue. If I remain ignorant of what those things are and default to being led by my natural human appetites I tend to end up in not so great places.
I just know that I never want to blind-side anyone. If we ever sit down for a cup of coffee or a pint, I will be pursuing a deeper relationship.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
“For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.” Matthew 7:8 (NIV)
The further I get on this life journey, the more things I discover about myself. When I was a young man, I thought I knew myself well, but the reality is that I didn’t know my true self at all. What I realized along the way is that self-discovery required the hero’s journey. It is only through wilderness wanderings, crisis, and trial that I discovered the means by which I uncovered things buried deep within.
It is only later in life that I have learned to recognize one of my patterns of behavior. The truth is that I am, at the heart of things, a wallflower. I don’t like to initiate things, rather I like to be invited in to things. I tend not to insert myself or take the first step. I don’t want to go chasing after things, I like to wait for things to naturally flow to me.
I have learned and experienced that this particular trait, like most quirks of personality and temperament, comes with both positive and negative consequences.
Today’s chapter is the final of three chapters that make up Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. As He approaches the end of His message, Jesus famously tells His audience to take the initiative to spiritually ask, seek, and knock. As I read this in the quiet this morning, my soul felt familiar pangs of internal discomfort. Asking, seeking, and knocking on opportunity’s door all require initiative. They all come with the risk of failure, disappointment, and rejection. That’s where my struggle is rooted.
I have learned from my study of the Enneagram that across the nine types there is a triad of core struggles: fear, anger, and shame. As an Enneagram Type Four, shame is my core struggle. It is the deep sense that there is something flawed in me, that I am not enough, and I am worthless.
If I step out and take the initiative to ask, there’s a chance that the answer will be “no, not for you” and it will only reinforce my shame. Nope. I think I’ll just stand here and wait for someone to come along, notice me, and offer me what I desire.
If I seek and take the initiative to find, I could easily find myself back in the wilderness again, feeling lost and void of the things I need to find my way. Nope. I think I’ll just stand here at the edge of opportunity until someone offers to safely guide me.
If I knock, I don’t know who will open the door. I don’t know how they will respond to my interruption. Maybe they’re having dinner, or indisposed, or hate being interrupted. There’s a chance they’ll slam the door in my face. Nope. That would only reinforce my shame. It’s easier just not taking the risk. I’ll just stand here outside the door and wait for the door to open on its own.
Ugh. Even writing this honest assessment of my inner thoughts stirs my sense of shame.
In the quiet this morning, I find myself reminded of the older brother in Jesus’ story of the Prodigal Son. He was angry that His father threw a big homecoming party for his wayward, disobedient little brother. He complains that not once had his father thrown a dinner party for him and his friends. The father replies, “But, son, you never asked.”
I’m still learning. Overcoming my core struggle with shame requires me to exercise faith despite my fear. This wallflower has to have the faith to step out onto the dance floor, approach that girl with the wild head of curly, mahogany hair and mischievous look in her blue eyes and ask her to dance. Yes, she might say no. On the other hand, I might find out her name is Wendy and taking the initiative to ask her for a dance might launch the greatest and most profitable adventure of my life journey.
I’m still learning.
Lord, in the quiet this morning, I ask that you continue to teach me, I seek your grace for being a slow learner. Heavenly Father, I’m knocking on your door this morning and wondering if I might possibly have your blessing this day. Thanks.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!
An Ambitiously Quiet Life (CaD 1 Thess 4) –
Wayfarer
…make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody. 1 Thessalonians 4:11-12 (NIV)
This past winter and spring our kids and grandkids lived with us for over four months here in Pella, Iowa (see featured photo). They were transitioning back to the States after five years of living in Edinburgh, Scotland.
One day our grandson Milo asked his mother, “Is Papa famous?”
Taylor laughed and asked what prompted the question.
“Everybody knows him,” he replied.
Welcome to a small town, young man.
I have been doing a lot of online networking for business in recent weeks, having Zoom calls with people from all over North America. As we introduce one another, I find that the vast majority of them live in cities, with most of them located on either one of the coasts. When I tell them I live in a little town in Iowa, they often react with surprise. Some will even ask me about it, typically stating that they couldn’t do it and it would be too boring for them. This is often followed by a statement about needing a lot of things to do and places to go for activity and entertainment.
Fascinating.
In today’s chapter, Paul shifts the theme of his letter from personal matters (e.g. discussion of Timothy’s visit and his longing to make a personal visit of his own) to instructions in life for the spiritually young Jesus followers in Thessalonica.
Paul’s first instruction was to avoid sexual immorality. Keep in mind that generally loose sexual mores and attitudes were a hallmark of ancient Greece. As one historian described sex in the city of Athens (where Paul is writing this letter):
“Relationships between men of the same age were not at all common: rather, the standard same-sex relationship would involve an adolescent boy and an older man. Men also used female prostitutes regularly: sex could be bought cheaply in a city that was home to countless brothels, streetwalkers and female ‘entertainers’.”
Paul urges the Thessalonian believers to produce the fruit of self-control in sexual matters for their own spiritual, and physical, well-being.
He then goes on to repeat his encouragement that I wrote about in yesterday’s post, which is to increase in love“more and more.” But he then adds a general instruction for daily life, encouraging them to make it their “ambition” to lead a “quiet life.”
…make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody.
It was about thirty years ago that these verses first leaped off the page and into my soul. This passage has become somewhat of a guide and a mission. I didn’t think about it when I moved to a small town from the city where I’d spent most of my life, but in retrospect, I find that it was definitely synergistic.
Yes, my life is quieter. I can get anywhere I need in ten minutes or less. I like seeing people I know everywhere. I love that people know my name when I walk into the store, a restaurant, or the pub. I love that the guys at George’s Pizza begin making our pizza as soon as they see our car pull up on Sunday. I love not dealing with the traffic, crime, and cost of a city. And, despite not having all the available activity and entertainment options of a city, Wendy and I never lack things to do nor do we ever feel that our entertainment tank is on empty.
Paul’s words to the Thessalonians have been instrumental in my life journey. I have made it my ambition to lead a quieter life, and it has greatly increased the quality of my life. Please don’t hear what I’m not saying. I don’t think one has to live in a small town to have a quieter life. I’m just saying that I have found it to personally be part of my own journey in being ambitious for more quiet.
And, in the quiet this morning, I find myself thinking of the ambitions I observe in our adventure-seeking, adrenaline-addicted, YOLO culture. I observe individuals who are so ambitious for non-stop activity and entertainment that they never have time to figure out why their relationships aren’t working, their soul feels so empty, or their minds are so constantly afraid and anxious. The answers to those things require contemplation, introspection, and conversation (and I would add prayer), and those things require quiet.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
“If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our temple and our nation.” John 11:48 (NIV)
Yesterday afternoon I was sitting on the porch watching Milo playing with the garden hose. In his mind he was helping Papa water the landscape shrubs, but the truth was that he was playing with the nozzle on the hose that has a bunch of different types of spray. He would spray for a few seconds, then switch to the next setting, spray for a few seconds, then switch to the next setting, spray for a few seconds…you get the idea.
On the ground in front of me was Milo’s bubble gun. It’s a little battery operated toy into which you put soap solution into this small reservoir in the handle and it the shoots out a steady stream of bubbles. It’s pretty cool.
Holding the hose, Milo told me that he needed to put more water in the bubble gun as it was running low. It was obvious that he thought the hose nozzle in his hand was the perfect tool for the job. I agreed, but only if he let me help him. We selected the gentlest, most faucet-like spray setting, I unscrewed the reservoir and held it up as Milo pointed the nozzle toward the hole. Before I had a chance to help him gently open the flow of water, Milo cranked the sucker fully open. Water hit the edge of the reservoir and splattered everywhere, including all over Papa’s face.
Milo laughed hysterically at Papa.
Papa did not laugh. I very quietly and honestly said, “Papa’s not happy about that.”
What happened next was fascinating. Milo dropped the hose and ran about five feet away and turned away from me. He then sheepishly turned to look at me, brow furrowed. “I didn’t do it!” he cried emphatically.
Once again, in a soft and gentle voice I asked, “Well, if you didn’t do it, who did? You were the one holding the hose.”
He then slunk back to me with his head bowed. He picked up the hose.
“I didn’t mean to,” he said in almost a whisper.
I know little man. I know. It’s such a complex lesson for a three-year-old to grasp. Papa was unhappy about the consequences. As the adult in this situation, I fully knew the risk of filling a small, four ounce reservoir with a garden hose, and it was my choice to allow the calculated risk. Being frustrated with the outcome does not mean I am mad at you. I know you didn’t mean to, and I wasn’t mad at you. You misunderstood my reaction. There was no need to run in shame and deny pulling the trigger. To be honest, Papa’s observed many adults making the same basic misunderstanding as you just did without comprehending their reaction any more than you. You’re forgiven, little man, for misunderstanding.
Nevertheless, there was a spiritual lesson present in the moment.
Why do I do the things that I do? Why do I say the things that I say? Why do I make the choices I make?
Along my life journey, I’ve discovered that the answer to these questions is critically important both for my understanding of self and my understanding of others.
Today’s chapter is one of the most dramatic in the entire Great Story. The conflict between Jesus and the religious leaders has been escalating. Some had tried to stone him for blasphemy the last time He was in Jerusalem. The largest religious festival of the year, Passover, was just a week or two away. Jesus gets word that His friend, Lazarus, has died at his home in Bethany, just two miles from Jerusalem. Despite the disciples pleas to stay away from the area for Jesus’ own safety, Jesus returns to Bethany to find Lazarus dead four days, his body already entombed. Jesus raises Lazarus from the dead in front of a large crowd. Lazarus had been a prominent man, and Jews from Jerusalem had come to mourn with Lazarus’ sisters. They immediately report the astonishing miracle to the religious leaders in Jerusalem. This is a major event in driving the climactic events of Jesus betrayal, arrest, trials, and crucifixion.
There are so many great moments and spiritual lessons in today’s chapter that lie within the story of the miraculous raising of Lazarus. The verse that resonated most with me was that of the response of the religious leaders upon hearing the astonishing news of a man who was dead being brought back to life.
“What are we accomplishing?” they asked. “Here is this man performing many signs. If we let him go on like this, everyone will believe in him, and then the Romans will come and take away both our temple and our nation.”
In making this statement, they laid bare their motivation.
They are afraid.
Afraid of losing their worldly power. Afraid of their prestige being diminished. Afraid of losing face with the hated Romans occupiers. Afraid of life without the lucrative income of their religious racket. Afraid of change to their staunch traditions and what that mean.
They were supposed to be the spiritual leaders of the nation, but their fear of losing all that they were, all that they had, and their desire to cling to all of it, was far greater than the desire to acknowledge and accept what God was clearly doing and saying in and through Jesus.
What a contrast to Jesus’ followers who let go of everything to follow Him. Their desire to seek what God was doing overcame any fear of what they might be giving up or fear of the challenges they might face.
In the quiet this morning, I’m searching my own motivations. In the previous chapter’s post, I wrote: “Actions reveal identity.” They do, but the identity doesn’t lie in the actions themselves, but in the motivations that spawned them. The motivations that often remain hidden and/or ignored.
As I look back on my own journey, I can see how shame motivated so many of my actions and choices through so much of my life. Along my spiritual journey, I’d like to think that my desire to follow Jesus and discover who I was created to be and who I am yet called to be has overcome that long ignored shame that drove so many unhealthy thoughts, words, behaviors, and choices in my early years. And, if I’m honest, still creeps in more than I care to admit.
“Old things pass away,” Paul wrote to the followers of Jesus in Corinth in discussing the spiritual transformation that takes place when in relationship with Him. My own experience is that some “things” pass away like a swift execution while other “things” pass away in a long, painful, lingering, and palliative process.
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had been demon-possessed begged to go with him. Jesus did not let him, but said, “Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you.” Mark 5:18-19 (NIV)
Tomorrow I celebrate another year on this earthly journey. The earth has made another trip around the sun. It’s my plan to take the day off and have a little personal time. We’ll see how that plays out.
Along the journey I’ve perpetually spent time in the quiet with God contemplating three questions:
Where have I been?
Where am I at?
Where am I going?
As a young man, the answers to the first two questions typically resonated with discontent. The third resonated with hubris.
A little further in the journey, the first two questions resonated with anger. The third resonated with confusion.
Yet further down the path the first question began resonating with gratitude. The second question began resonating with clarity for the first time. The third question began resonating with hopeful longing.
Some mornings as I read the chapter, I find myself meditating on a character in the story. There are so many people we meet in Jesus’ story, but I rarely give most of them more than a passing thought. They are two-dimensional bit-players who make a quick entrance, speak their line or two, and then exit to the Great Story’s Green Room.
When I trained as an actor, I was taught that even bit players have a story. I was trained to study each character that I embodied with equal depth and attention to detail whether I was in the lead role or a bit player. And so, I sometimes like doing a little character study of the bit players I come upon in the chapter. Today it was the man who had spent his life possessed by demons, living amongst the dead and rotting bodies in the local tombs. The locals continued to tie him up and shackle him with chains because he was so raving mad and out of control. Talk about an interesting answer to the introspective question “Where have I been?”
The answer to “Where am I at?” is radically different than it had ever been before. It’s suddenly “normal” like everyone else. The demons are gone. His chains are gone. His spirit and his mind are his own for the first time in how many years? He is a walking miracle. He’s still the one everyone is talking about, but in an entirely new way.
“Where am I going?” he asks himself. His life is suddenly open to endless possibilities. Why not follow this teacher who delivered him? Why not dedicate his life to going wherever Jesus goes, doing whatever Jesus says, and serving Jesus in life-long gratitude? He seeks out Jesus and begs to follow.
It was Jesus answer that resonated in my soul this morning. Jesus could have taken on another disciple. He could have sent this man on any mission to any land Jesus named to accomplish any task no matter how seemingly impossible, and the man would have gladly done it.
But, no. Jesus says, “Stay here, my friend. Stay here in this little village on the shores of Galilee that you call home. Go home to your family and your community. Channel your gratitude for me into loving and serving them well. Love, and be loved. Get a job and support these neighbors who have looked after you for so long. Get married, make love, have children, and experience the joy of a simple life. That’s my mission for you.”
As I heard Jesus saying this in the scene I envisioned in my imagination, one of my life verses came to mind:
Make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you, so that your daily life may win the respect of outsiders and so that you will not be dependent on anybody. 1 Thessalonians 4:11-12 (NIV)
As I meditate on entering another year in the journey tomorrow, my heart meanders back, yet again, to the three questions. Amidst the Divine Dance I toss the questions out and open my spirit to the answers.
“Where have I been?” The answer resonates with gratitude more than ever before.
“Where am I at?” The answer has begun to resonate with contentment.
“Where am I going?” The answer is surprisingly soft and still compared to the chaotic resonance of hubris, anger, and longing I’ve known my entire life journey. Wait a minute…
Is that peace?
If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.
Whoever pursues righteousness and love finds life, prosperity and honor. Proverbs 21:21 (NIV)
A recently released study showed that the number of church-going Christians in the United States has dropped significantly in the past twenty years. As usual, I have heard a number of media outlets fanning the flames of fear, anxiety, and panic at the news. I’m not getting my undies in a bunch over it. There are some fascinating questions to be asked, contemplated, and discussed regarding the details in the data. Fear leads to all sorts of silly, reactive behavior.
When I was young and starting out on my faith journey, many institutional churches had a keen interest in morality and political power. There was, I know, a genuine motivation in being followers of Jesus. I experienced it first hand in my own life and in the sincere mentors I wrote about yesterday who taught me spiritual disciplines. There was also, however, a drive for size, numbers, and political influence within media-driven pastors and leaders. I myself witnessed and was often a part of a push to get people to pray the sinner’s prayer and walk an aisle to accept Jesus. While that launched many faith journeys, my own included, there were many who simply believed that they had received the heavenly stamp of approval. They had their spiritual “fire insurance” policy that would keep them out of hell, and their ticket was punched for heaven. This was often not the start of a faith journey towards becoming more like Jesus, but a transactional religious rite.
Jesus addressed this in His parable of the sower. The seed falls on all sorts of soil. Some show signs of life and growth, but never grows to maturity or produces a healthy, abundant crop.
My own observation is that there have been many who were part of institutional denominations and churches for reasons that were far different than a personal spiritual journey to follow Jesus. It could have been familial, cultural, and/or social expectation in a time when the institutional church was part of the fabric of our society. There has been a huge shift in the past twenty years. Denominations are imploding. The institutions are falling apart. In addition, being a follower of Jesus involves regular fellowship with other believers and worship. Membership and participation in an institutional church provide the opportunity for those things. At the same time, I have known many regular church members and attenders who neither worship nor participate in any real spiritual relationship with others. In addition, an institutional church is not the only place that the disciplines of worship and fellowship can be found.
This brings me back to the proverb from today’s chapter that I pasted above. It cuts right to the heart of the matter and makes me ask: “What am I pursuing?” If it’s simply a religious rite or a transactional moment that gives me some sense of eternal security, then it’s a very different thing than me being a follower of Jesus. What I have discovered is that being a follower of Jesus is a faith journey because it is a never-ending pursuit and a seeking after becoming the person Jesus calls me to be. As the proverb states, it’s not a pursuit of religion and heaven, but of righteousness and love.
Jesus said:
But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things [life’s basic necessities] will be given to you as well.
Matthew 6:33 (NIV)
So, in the quiet this morning I find myself asking the very simple question: “What am I pursuing?” Then there is a follow-up question that is difficult, but necessary: “What do I want to say I am pursuing, and what do my daily words, actions, relationships, purchases, time spent, and energy expended reveal to be my life’s pursuits?“
Righteousness and love.
Sometimes, I have to recalibrate and remember what the goal is. Otherwise, I get distracted pursuing so many other things.
The simple believe anything, but the prudent give thought to their steps. Proverbs 14:15 (NIV)
My friend, Matthew, likes to say that “everyone is having a conversation with life.” He describes it as an “inner conversation with your center as external circumstances beg for a response.”
Along my journey, I’ve come to believe that the quality and depth of that inner conversation is critical to my progress in Life, health, growth, and relationships. I’ve also observed along the way those who appear to choose not to engage in that conversation. Maybe they don’t know how to have that conversation. Maybe they really don’t want to have that conversation. The result, from my perspective, are lives that seem to run on uninterrupted cycles of appetite, impulse, reaction, and habit. Tragedy and/or life becoming unmanageable become the only way a conversation with Life might possibly get jump-started.
This morning I find my heart and mind still mulling over yesterday’s post and thoughts of introspection. I’ve always been a bit introspective, but I know many who aren’t and who don’t even know where to begin. Many years ago, when I worked with young people, I always tried to teach them both to be introspective and how to have conversations about those inner conversations. The lessons I learned I now apply in my relationships with clients, team members, friends, neighbors, and even strangers.
Typically, I would start with a simple ice-breaker type of question:
Good/Bad: Name one good thing and one bad thing from your week?
Where have you been? Where are you now? Where are you going?
What’s your biggest pet peeve?
If you had five other lives to live, what would you do/be?
Then, I would listen to the young person’s answer and begin what I call “moving upstream.” Moving upstream is really the process of introspection, but I find that one typically learns how to do it first by being led by a parent, friend, counselor, teacher, therapist, pastor, or mentor.
You know how the mouth of a river pouring into the ocean is usually really wide (and usually not very picturesque)? That is what a general answer to a general question is. That’s where introspection begins. Conversations with Life, for those who’ve never really had one, begin with a simple ice-breaker with yourself. But the really good stuff, the scenic views, the waterfalls, the natural springs, the crystal-clear mountain stream can only be reached by paddling upriver, then up a tributary, through a few locks and dams, then up another tributary, and another, and another. There will be a portage around a rapid or three, maybe some smaller dams, and then up yet another small stream. You keep moving upstream towards the Source.
Here’s how it sounded with one of the kids in my youth group as I tried to guide them upstream:
Me: “Name one bad thing from your week.”
Them: “Um, (young people always begin with “Um”) My bad thing this week was getting grounded by my parents.“
Grounded? Okay, there’s a story there. Let’s move a little further upstream and find out what it is.
Me: “Ouch! How long are you grounded?”
Them: “Two weeks.”
I keep paddling. With each answer, I move a little farther upstream by taking what’s given to me and exploring further.
Me: “Two weeks!? That sucks! What on earth earned you two weeks?”
Them: (Head is down. Eyes stare at the floor. Shoulders shrug.)
We’ve reached our first dam. Sometimes the lock to a conversational dam is humor.
Me: “What did you do? MURDER SOMEBODY?“
Them: (laughs) “No.”
Me: “ROB A BANK?!“
Them: “No.”
Me: “Well, being late for curfew isn’t a two week offense. So it’s got to be somewhere between getting in late and murder.”
Silence. Silence is okay, even when it’s painful. Silence is a necessary part of introspection. As my friend Matthew says, “Let silence to the heavy lifting.”
More silence. Finally…
Them: (Mumbling after a sigh) “I got caught smoking weed.”
Hey! There’s a new tributary! Let’s move up that stream and see where it leads.
Hopefully, you get where I’m going. Keep asking questions. Look at the answer to those questions and let them lead you to the next question. The strings of questions and answers are the conversation with Life. The better I’ve become at having those inner conversations about my external circumstances, the further I get towards the Source and the more rewarding the journey has become.
In the quiet this morning, I’m whispering a prayer of thanks for the many friends, family members, teachers, professors, mentors, pastors, and therapists who helped guide me upstream at different stages of my journey. They taught me how to be introspective. Over the course of 50 plus years, my conversations with them taught me how to have a conversation with myself, with Life. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them.
Hope your own conversations with Life are leading you to good places, even when the portages, paddling, and dams are a pain.
Have a great day, my friend. Thank you for reading along with me on this journey.
A generous person will prosper; whoever refreshes others will be refreshed. Proverbs 11:25 (NIV)
Earlier this week I was with friends in our family room, and we were discussing the spiritual season of Lent that we entered into this past Wednesday. For those not familiar with the practice, Lent (from the Anglo-Saxon word for “length” which is also associated with “Spring”) is a period of roughly 40 days (there are multiple traditions who figure the days differently) leading up to the celebration of Jesus’ death and resurrection at Easter.
The 40 days traditionally relate back to the 40 days Jesus spent alone in the desert (Matthew 4) before he was tempted by the enemy. That 40 days of solitude, introspection, prayer, fasting, and temptation effectively launched Jesus’ three years of ministry. It was the spiritual boot camp that prepared Him for the determined purpose of fulfilling His earthly mission on the cross, through death, and out of the tomb. In the same way, Lent is intended to be a period of personal introspection, confession, denial, repentance, and preparation leading up to Good Friday (observance of Jesus’ death) and Easter (celebration of Jesus’ resurrection).
As my friends and I discussed our diverse religious backgrounds and personal experiences with Lent, we discussed the practice of self-denial and fasting that commonly occurs during the season. One member of our group alluded to a conversation he and his wife had about self-denial within generosity: You know a person who needs a special outfit for an event and they can’t afford it. It’s easy to say, “Here is an outfit from my spare closet that I haven’t worn for years. Take it. It’s yours.” It’s harder to say, “Here is my favorite outfit. It’s the best thing I own, and it cost me a pretty penny. Take it. It’s yours.” Which is true generosity and self-denial?
I thought of that discussion as I read today’s chapter and came across a verse that I, long ago, memorized. It’s today’s verse, pasted at the top of this post.
In the introspection spirit of Lent, I have a confession to make. Generosity has been a life-long struggle of mine. The struggle is two-sided. The obvious side is simply learning to be generous. Things were economically tight in my family growing up. As the youngest of four, I enjoyed a lot of hand-me-downs. The idea of being generous and giving things away was an honest struggle for me because when I had something new that was “just mine” I wanted to cling to it for dear life. It took me a long time to develop a heart of generosity, and even as I write these words I have specific, shameful memories of not being generous and being called out for it.
The other side of my generosity struggle comes from my core pain, which I long ago identified and labeled: not enough. So, even though I have come to embrace, en-joy, and practice generosity in greater measure than any time in my entire life, my Censor (that ugly whisperer inside my head and heart) ceaselessly tells me that it’s not enough.
Welcome to my Lenten introspection.
In the quiet this morning I find myself meditating on, and thinking about, my generosity. Jesus was constantly urging His followers towards the virtues of love, kindness, forgiveness, gentleness, humility, and generosity. Is it even possible to reach a point in my earthly life where I can say that I have arrived at having “enough” of these virtues in my life?
No.
Does that mean I’m an irredeemable failure?
No.
It means that I am on a spiritual journey and a Life journey. I am not where I once was (thank you God) and I can be encouraged by that fact. At the same time, I have not arrived (Lord, have mercy) and I can be humbled by that fact.
So where, does that leave me?
Time to lace ’em up for another day. I’m pressing on. Hope you are, too.
Oh, and if you wear men’s size 9 and you need a pair of shoes for the trek, I have a brand new pair. I think I’ve worn them only once. If you need them, they’re yours.
Remember this: Whoever sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and whoever sows generously will also reap generously. 2 Corinthians 9:6
Many years ago I was traveling with a colleague who, inadvertently made a comment that stung. Being a right-brained creative, I’m always searching for new and better ways to organize myself. Also, being a right-brained creative I tend to get bored quickly and move on to try new things. So it was that I had been experimenting with making a custom, daily to-do list on a 3×5 card that I kept on a leather blotter in my pocket. I like things small and compact.
“I realized why you write so small and put everything on a tiny card,” my colleague said.
I took the bait. “Oh yeah? Why is that?” I answered.
“Because you’re such a miser. You’re miserly about everything.”
Wow. Granted, I come from a Dutch heritage famous for thrift, but I’d never in my life been told that I was a “miser.” The conversation ended and the subject never came up again, but the comment stuck with me like a soul wound. Am I a miser?
Sometime later I read Psalm 112, and as I read it I realized that it described the kind of man I wanted to be. So I memorized it. I still whisper it to myself all the time. I even had the reference tattooed on my right bicep. Interestingly, the lyrics of the psalm twice mentions generosity:
Good will come to those who are generous and lend freely, who conduct their affairs with justice.
They have freely scattered their gifts to the poor, their righteousness endures forever; their horn will be lifted high in honor.
Looking back in 20-20 hindsight, I believe my colleague’s comment was a misguided perception based on other factors that need not be mentioned here. I’ve long since forgiven and let it go. It did, however, create a beneficial period of honest introspection, and it motivated me to increasingly live out Psalm 112 in my daily life. I know I have further to go in that journey, but Wendy and I desire to be consciously and tangibly generous with all of the blessings God has given us.
In today’s chapter, Paul is appealing to the generosity of Jesus’ followers in Corinth as he takes up an offering for the believers starving amidst the famine in Judea and Samaria. Interestingly, he quotes Psalm 112, and of course it leapt off the page at me.
In the quiet this morning I am thankful for my old colleague who caused me to pause and take a hard, introspective look inward. I am once again whispering through Psalm 112. As along week of work begins that will take me to the west coast and back, I’m thinking about the opportunities I will have to be a generous person in different ways with many different people I don’t even know. We can use more generosity in this world, don’t you think?
