It’s been almost two years since last we’ve met like this and a lot has changed.

Let’s face it. I’m guessing most of us feel like a lot has changed since breakfast this morning.

Global pandemic
Race riots
Saharan dust cloud

Who even remembers murder hornets at this point?

When I started Freedom Sandwich a few years ago it was a way to help process things. I was in a phase of my life where I was reading a lot, getting outside my comfort zone and trying to grow. I thought that a few other people might enjoy taking that journey with me. Maybe I could even help a few people along the way.

And here we are,

2020.

Outside my comfort zone,

Again.

Growing,

Again.

Learning (again) that whatever control I thought I had over my life was just an illusion.

Maybe Pink Floyd said it best

So you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell
Blue skies from pain
Can tell a green field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil
Do you think you can tell?

I’ve started a side hustle (It’s 2020. We all need a side hustle, right?) building wood furniture. I wanted to do something where I had complete control over the creative process. You see, my job as a graphic designer is necessarily about compromise. A customer comes to me with a need and an idea. I take that need and idea, add my knowledge, expertise and creative abilities to it, and produce a solution that I feel exactly meets their needs.

Then they make changes

There are revision cycles

Ideas are shared back and forth

Budgets are considered

And personal preferences

There are more revisions

Until finally, the project is complete.

What we come up with in the end may be beautiful. Sometimes the series of edits, budgets, changes, and shared ideas produce a result better than I could have on my own.

Sometimes it produces junk.

But either way, it’s rarely my own vision. It’s almost never what I’d call a pure expression of my artistic talent.

It’s a compromise.

So, back to woodworking. My goal with woodworking was to build tables EXACTLY the way I wanted to build them. I would do the sketches. Buy the wood. Cut, sand, stain, glue, nail, and polish the tables until I was completely satisfied. It would be my creation.

Freedom to create exactly what my mind could conceive.

No limits.

I would have complete control from start to finish.

Pure artistic expression.

2020.

2020 has become my term for that time when reality sets it. A reality that wakes me up from the utopian dream I’d greatly prefer to be living in.

I found that, first of all, I still have budgets. I don’t own the most expensive top-of-the-line equipment. So, there’s a limit to what I can do.

And I need a work space. As it turns out, a cool downtown studio apartment isn’t the best place to build fine furniture. So, I have to drive an hour to work in a freezing cold barn. Or I can share a space. Which has it’s own brand of limits and compromises.

Of course, none of these issues are insurmountable. Where there’s a will there’s a way, right?

But what I’ve found to be the greatest lesson in all of this is the wood itself. Wood by its very nature is imperfect.

Life is imperfect.

Wood has a grain, and knots, and crack, and uneven colors. It warps and bends. Sometimes two pieces of the same type of wood take stain completely differently. When you cut it, sand it, stain it, and glue it together sometimes it’s only then that these imperfections reveal themselves to you.

Sometimes it’s the very act of creation that reveals imperfections.

A good woodworker recognizes this. They acknowledge that some things can’t be planned for. You can start a project with the best sketches and plans with the end result being the perfect table but somewhere along the way a flaw is revealed. And plans need to change. Sometimes you have to let the wood do it’s thing and work with it. You have to be flexible and patient. You have to take your ego out of it.

It’s this realization that allows you to see that the creative process didn’t start with you. It began decades before when the tree first grew. The soil, the temperature, the amount of rain, and insects all helped shape that tree. The wood that would later become a table has been growing for years.

Pure artistic expression.

Think you’re in complete control?

2020.

Think that table is going to turn out exactly like your sketch?

2020.

Got a great job, a perfect home, your health?

2020.

Life doesn’t always turn out like you’ve planned. People come and go and come and go again. We experience pain, and loss and injustice. We’re alone. We’re scared. We encounter cracks, and knots.

We have cracks and knots.

They were there all along. It just took the creative process of life itself to reveal them.

If it feels like everything is completely out of control and nothing will ever be right again, like you’ll never reach your dreams, like there is just too much hurt and loss, if it feel like the scars you have suffered can never be made well, your heart is too broken, if you see the world around you and are overwhelmed by injustice and pain.

Don’t give up.

You are part of a creative process that has been taking place since the beginning of time. It’s a creative process that has been slowly building something new. Something better. More peaceful, vibrant, and inclusive.

It may require more patience than you think you have. But keep building. Keep sanding and gluing and staining. The table you are building will almost certainly NOT turn out like you planned. It may not be perfect. But open yourself up to whatever you create.

Control is just an illusion.

Creation is messy.

Pure artistic expression.

I have become comfortably numb.

2020.

We’re all in this together friends.

 

Are you happy?

Has anyone ever asked you that question?

Or maybe YOU are the one that’s asked the question…

…of YOURSELF.

Let me help you. The answer is probably “no.”

People who are happy have a way of carrying themselves don’t they? An entirely different body language. They have a confidence, an aura. They walk more upright, they look you in the eye.

They smile.

We look at people an instantly have a sense about them. Maybe we can’t define it. Maybe we aren’t exactly sure, but we sense there is something going on.

It’s almost as if we can FEEL happiness in others.

Or unhappiness in ourselves?

A great truth about happiness is that we don’t have to tell others that we’re happy. They’ll just know.

Do you have a friend who’s constantly telling you how great they are doing? Or maybe let’s put it in dating terms. Do you know anyone that’s been in a relationship and now that it’s been over for some time they announce, “I’m over her! I’m so over her. I couldn’t care less about her. I don’t care who she’s seeing. She is the farthest thing from my mind. I never even think about her. I am over her.”

Methinks he doth protest too much.

Even Shakespeare knew. If you are constantly mentioning an ex, you aren’t over them. If you’re constantly telling people you’re happy. Or asking yourself if you’re happy, you very likely aren’t.

Of course, some people try really hard to fool the world. And fortunately there’s a great tool out there for those people.

It’s called Social Media.

Do you have a friend that seems to be constantly posting selfies? Just their big ole grin right there? Maybe they are genuinely happy. It’s possible. But maybe, they’re trying to fool you.

Or fool themselves.

A recent poll on happiness in America concluded that at any given moment only one third of us are actually happy. And that seems about right doesn’t it?

Because another great truth about happiness is that sometimes our attempts to become happy are the very things that are making us unhappy.

We think we’d be happy if we could only have this or if we could only have that. There’s a THING that can make us happy. We might say, when I reach this milestone, then I’ll be happy. Or worse, we look back on a TIME when we were happy.

If we think there was a time in the past that we were happy (or at least happier) then by comparison our present situation will always fall short. You see, that time in the past, no matter how great it was, it’s not coming back. It’s in the past.

And that thing or future event, a promotion, a relationship, a new car or maybe a dream vacation, it’s

not

here

yet.

And maybe it never will be.

Or maybe when we get it, we’ll only want more.

Each and every one of us are currently living in the present (news flash). We have to make that present as full of happiness as possible.

Which leads us to yet another truth about happiness. Happiness is temporary. It’s a moment like any other.

Sometimes it may last longer than others, but it doesn’t last forever and to expect it to only makes us…you guessed it…

…unhappy.

So, maybe a better question. One that your friends should be asking. Or that you should be asking youself is:

Do I WANT to be happy?

WHAT?
THAT’S INSANE!
WHY wouldn’t I choose to be happy?

There’s a story in the Bible, in the book of Mark chapter 5, about Jesus and a demon-possessed man that might shed some light on this.

They went across the lake to the region of the Gerasenes. When Jesus got out of the boat, a man with an impure spirit came from the tombs to meet him. This man lived in the tombs, and no one could bind him anymore, not even with a chain. For he had often been chained hand and foot, but he tore the chains apart and broke the irons on his feet. No one was strong enough to subdue him. Night and day among the tombs and in the hills he would cry out and cut himself with stones.

When he saw Jesus from a distance, he ran and fell on his knees in front of him. He shouted at the top of his voice, “What do you want with me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God? In God’s name don’t torture me!” For Jesus had said to him, “Come out of this man, you impure spirit!”

Then Jesus asked him, “What is your name?”

“My name is Legion,” he replied, “for we are many.” And he begged Jesus again and again not to send them out of the area.

A large herd of pigs was feeding on the nearby hillside. The demons begged Jesus, “Send us among the pigs; allow us to go into them.” He gave them permission, and the impure spirits came out and went into the pigs. The herd, about two thousand in number, rushed down the steep bank into the lake and were drowned.

Those tending the pigs ran off and reported this in the town and countryside, and the people went out to see what had happened. When they came to Jesus, they saw the man who had been possessed by the legion of demons, sitting there, dressed and in his right mind; and they were afraid. Those who had seen it told the people what had happened to the demon-possessed man—and told about the pigs as well. Then the people began to plead with Jesus to leave their region.

Sometimes, healing is uncomfortable. It’s disruptive and it changes our narrative.

We had a story. We were a victim. Someone had hurt us, left us, betrayed us. The thing that we wanted, we didn’t get. The thing we thought would last forever didn’t. Someone had died. Our marriage ended. Our business failed. We were alone.

And over time our story came to define us.

We weren’t happy.

We couldn’t be happy.

We didn’t deserve to be happy.

We didn’t want to be happy.

See how it goes?

There’s this comfort in knowing who we are. Even if that comfort means clinging to something, or someone, or some time that is far less than healthy.

The people of the region of the Gerasenes had witnessed a great miracle. A healing. A beginning of a new life. A new way of living that said, the past had been one way, but maybe the future didn’t have to be.

And they were afraid.

They rejected it.

We’re all living our story. And at different points, people come into our lives that are disruptive. They bring a new way of thinking. They say, the past was this way but I’ve got a different future in mind.

They acknowledge all that you’ve been through. They wrap their arms around you as you sit on your living room floor screaming and crying and cursing God.

As much as possible, they see your pain.

They are different. You can feel it. They are happy. They are smiling and laughing. Almost uncontrollably. And they want you to be happy too. Not all the time because that isn’t possible. But more of the time than not. And not in the future, and not because you’ll get something or gain something. They want you to be happy because they love you. And they want you to love yourself just as much as they do.

Maybe this story of happiness isn’t one that ties up in a neat bow. Maybe you are going through a really rough season of your life and happiness just isn’t in the cards right now. First, remember that’s okay. It’s a season. It’s not forever. But maybe this season has lasted not days, weeks or months but rather years. Is it time to ask tough questions? Is it time to examine patterns? Is it time to take control and change your narrative? If so, look to the people in your life who are disrupters. Who love you but also challenge you. Who say, “That was the past. Let me tell you about your future.”

Are you happy? Do you really want to be?

Tough questions? Yes.

Disruptive? Certainly.

Painful? Likely.

It’s in the tough questions though that we find the best answers.

 

 

 

 

 

Cairn /kern/ n. a mound or stack of rough stones used as a memorial or landmark, usually on a hill or skyline.

People of various cultures around the world have been stacking stones for thousands of years. Often these stones are used as a signpost. A reminder to turn here or there. A directional to help travelers find their way or warn of possible dangers. Sometimes a cairn is used to cover and bury the dead. Other times the cairn is astrological in nature.

The word cairn derives from the Gaelic word càrn. In Scottish tradition it’s said that before a battle, each man in a clan would carry a stone and place it in a pile. Those surviving the battle would remove a stone. The remaining stones would be left as a memorial to those who were lost.

They stacked stones.

In the book of Joshua chapter 4 there’s a story of the Israelite nation crossing the Jordan River into the land promised them by God. Their leader (Joshua) instructs one member from each of the twelve tribes to gather a stone from the middle of the Jordan and carry it with them. That night when they made their camp, they were to take the stones and place them in a pile. You see, the Lord had stopped up the flow of the river allowing the people to cross over safely. So these stones were to serve as a memorial, a reminder of God’s presence on that very spot, at that very moment, at work in their lives.

They stacked stones.

Now, as modern people we can choose to believe or not in the presence and power of a God at work in the Universe. But even if we do, very rarely do we stack stones in memorial.

Sure, as a community we build monuments to commemorate soldiers or battles. We build statues for national heroes or famous athletes. Skyscrapers and bridges are built and named for corporations or politicians. We even build grand churches and cathedrals.

But as individuals? Stacking stones? To commemorate God’s presence at work in our lives?

What about this…

Think of that t-shirt you wear. The one of your favorite band. The one you bought at the concert you’ll never forget.

Or the selfie on your phone. Or maybe it’s the screensaver on your laptop. Of you and your spouse at the beach, on a hike, or at a wedding. The selfie you took to remember a time you’ll never forget.

Maybe it’s a pair of shoes that you can’t bear to get rid of.

A necklace you never take off.

A favorite toy.

It’s probably something so small, so worn out, so well loved, that it would seem completely insignificant to anyone else.

But to you it’s everything.

My stack of stones is a song.

Last night I drove up to Foothills Parkway in the Great Smoky Mountains to watch a meteor shower. I wasn’t the only one with that bright idea as every parking area was full of cars. Couples with camping chairs. Parents with kids and telescopes. Teenagers in the beds of pickup trucks. And motorcycles. Lots of motorcycles.

As I leaned against my car, straining my neck to take in the full night sky, I felt a slight breeze. And I couldn’t help but remember.

Another breeze, on another night. Whispering through the trees and brushing my face.

Clouds floating by silently in the moonlight.

Planes in the distance circling a runway.

Lightning too far away to hear the thunder.

Mountains.

God.

*****

There’s an idea that while quite popular in early Celtic Christianity was rejected by the church in Rome, so it’s existed only in the teachings of mystics and philosophers. It’s called panentheism. And it means “God in all things.”

To believe that, to live like you believe that, changes everything.

Suddenly, every moment becomes an encounter with the living God. Each interaction, from the most grandiose to the most mundane, becomes an opportunity to experience the divine.

Sometimes those moments are found underneath the stars. At the top of a ladder. At the top of a mountain. But sometimes they’re found on the way back down, in the dark, on a winding road, listening to a song.

*****

As I leaned back against my car, craning my neck to scan the night sky for a falling star, I had one more thought.

Moments are fleeting. They don’t last forever. So, we’d better make the most of each one while we can.

And if we’re lucky, and we see a falling star, maybe just maybe, our wishes will come true.

*****

May you see and fully experience each divine moment of your life. May the cairns you build be constant reminders of God’s work. Reminders of love, and joy and peace.

Amen.

*****

Editor’s note: As I said, every divine moment is uniquely our own. And the cairns we build reflect that. One person’s prized Motley Crue t-shirt is another person’s old dust rag. That said, since I shared my stretch of road, I might as well share the song too. …Song For Zulu

 

 

 

 

 

All-in: a term used in the game of Poker when a player bets all his/her chips.

******

There are lots of terms used to describe various levels of failure. One might “make a misstep” or “botch a robbery.” You could “make a mess of things” or “take a false step.” Movies “flop” and comedians “bomb.”

My favorite term though and perhaps the greatest most spectacular form of failure possible is

fiasco.

A fiasco is a truly remarkable failure. A fiasco is one for the books. It’s a cautionary tale. A story told at parties. Something you will be remembered for.

A fiasco can change the course of your life.

You were this person, on this trajectory, with this plan for your life.

Then there was the fiasco.

But there aren’t just levels of failure, there are types of failure.

The first type of failure is just that…failure.

There’s no moral to the story. There’s no lesson to be learned. There’s just failure. Something that was, now isn’t. Something that began with such promise just never panned out. You did your best. You did everything right. You gave it your all.

Still it failed.

This type of failure is hard to take.

Because we want things to make sense.

We want all our hard work
and time
and energy
and hopes
and dreams
to have been for a reason.

But what if there isn’t?

Sometimes the business fails.
Sometimes the relationship ends.
Sometimes cancer.
Sometimes death.

The French philosopher Albert Camus defines this as the absurd. It’s that conflict between the human need for meaning and the apparent meaninglessness of the world.

In other words, sometimes life isn’t fair. Some situations defy meaning. To look for a cause, a purpose or a point is to do a disservice. A child dies in a car crash. A young mother gets cancer. The holocaust. These events aren’t retribution by an angry God for some failing. And they aren’t life lessons to help us become better people.

They’re just events that really really suck.

For Camus, the appropriate response to some situations isn’t to look for meaning where there is none and it isn’t to try and escape that meaninglessness. It’s to accept it, embrace it and make the best of life going forward.

******

In the second type of failure there IS a lesson to be learned.

Sometimes because we fail, we grow. You might call it a teachable moment. Sometimes when we fail there was a mistake made but we learn from that failure and come back stronger.

New Coke for instance.

Thomas Edison is famous for saying, “I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.”

And he invented the light bulb.

Sometimes we trust the wrong person.
Sometimes the timing isn’t right.
Sometimes we say the wrong thing.
Sometimes we miss the shot…the putt…the mark.

Babe Ruth (one of the greatest hitter in baseball history) hit 714 home runs.

He struck out 1,330 times.

There will be times in your life when you give it your all, when you pour all your heart and soul into something. When you study, plan and prepare.

And still, you fail.

But given time, prayer, introspection and advice one day you’ll wake up and the pain will be less intense. You’ll see that you have become a better person.

You may even look back on the failure as a blessing in disguise.

******

And then there’s a third type of failure. It’s a failure that isn’t a failure at all.

This one’s a little harder to understand. In fact, you might call it paradoxical in nature. How can a failure be a success?

Isn’t a failure by definition the lack of success?

That’s what Merriam-Webster says.

Are we talking about a matter of semantics? Or is there something more?

******

God said of Job, “There is no one on earth like him; he is blameless and upright, a man who fears God and shuns evil.” …and he lost everything.

Saul of Tarsus set out to capture and kill the followers of Christ …and became the greatest evangelist the world has ever known.

Jesus died on a cross …and I think we know how that turned out.

******

In the movie Elizabethtown (and I’m suddenly realizing that I write far too many blog posts about romantic comedies) Drew Baylor (I’m also realizing this may be the first spiritual lesson learned from the acting of Orlando Bloom) is a young shoe designer for Mercury Worldwide Shoes. He has spent the last several years of his life completely absorbed in his work. He’s missed holidays and time with his family, sacrificing everything for the pursuit of his passion: the perfect running shoe. Unfortunately, the Spasmotica (his design) is a complete failure, ultimately being recalled and costing his company nearly one billion dollars. In the process, Drew loses his job, his reputation and his girlfriend. Without giving away the plot (it’s on Netflix people), in a voiceover epilog Drew opines:

“No true fiasco ever began as a quest for mere adequacy.”

You were made for so much more.

So much more than the status quo.
So much more than just getting by.
So much more than settling for that.
For this.
For them.

Have you experienced a failure in your life? Did the relationship end? Did the job not pan out? Did the deal fall through? Were you lied to? Was there pain? Is it over?

It hurts. A lot. But trust me, you aren’t alone.

Identify the type of failure. If there is a lesson, learn it.

Then
move
on.

One day. One step. One breath at a time.

And the next time life presents you with an opportunity. The next time you are dealt a hand. Go all-in. Because the size of your failure or the measure of your success will always be proportional to the amount of your heart you pour into something.

“No true fiasco ever began as a quest for mere adequacy.”

You were made for so much more.

If you haven’t seen it yet, run don’t walk (or better yet dance) to see La La Land. It’s a salve for the modern soul. And Lord knows we could use that these days.

On the surface, it’s the story of an aspiring young actress and a struggling jazz musician as they meet and fall in love in modern day Los Angeles. One filmmaker’s tribute to the classic musicals of Hollywood’s golden age.

For my money at least, it’s a love story to life.

You’ve heard the story before, hundreds of times, only the characters and settings ever really change.

Boy meets girl.

They hate each other.

But really they love each other.

They realize they are in love.

All goes well.

Until it doesn’t.

Something happens to keep them apart.

Until love wins out.

Happy Ending.

It’s the story of every musical and every romantic comedy ever filmed. But the reason it works every time, the reason we watch it over and over again, is that it’s really the story of our lives. Our journey from birth to death. From self-realization to self-actualization.

If your eyes are glazing over, hang with me. This story has a happy ending as well.

In 1943 Abraham Maslow stated that people are all motivated to fulfill certain needs. Some needs take precedence over others. These are our basic needs. Until these basic needs are satisfied, we aren’t able to fulfill our higher needs. This is illustrated in the chart below.

The lower level needs are sometimes referred to as deficiency needs. In other words, they motivate people when they are unmet. And the longer they are unmet, the stronger the need becomes. Just try going a day without food and see what becomes of your mental state. However, once the deficiency goes away, the need goes away. Then you can move on to higher level desires.

The highest level of needs are growth needs. Growth needs are different. They actually become stronger as they are met.

At the top of the pyramid we become fully-functioning human beings. We realize our full potential. In 1970 Maslow listed the characteristics of a self-actualized human being. That list includes:

Perceive reality efficiently and can tolerate uncertainty
Accept themselves and others for what they are
Spontaneous in thought and action
Problem-centered (not self-centered)
Able to look at life objectively
Highly creative
Concerned for the welfare of humanity
Capable of deep appreciation of basic life-experience
Establish deep satisfying interpersonal relationships with a few people
Peak experiences
Strong moral/ethical standards.

In short, complete awesomeness.

Transcendent.

Nirvana.

Self-actualized people are able to look beyond themselves and help others achieve self-actualization.

Felling a bit inferior at this point? Don’t worry.

Maslow estimated that only 2% of people ever become fully self-actualized.

So, speaking of musicals (and at one point we actually were), there’s a classic scene in the 1965 movie The Sound of Music. We’ve all seen it. Maria (Julie Andrews) is on a mountaintop in the Austrian Alps twirling and dancing and singing that “the hills are alive with the sound of music.”

If only for a few moments, Maria reaches self-actualization.

Spontaneous
Creative
Appreciating Life
A Peak Experience
Complete joy, complete happiness, complete freedom.

Or is it?

I would argue not. Just as there are different levels of needs, there are different levels of freedom. What if running, skipping, dancing and singing across a mountaintop is an illustration of only the most basic type of freedom? A deficient freedom. A freedom from something.

Now, that isn’t to take away from Maria’s freedom. It’s a freedom we crave. It’s a freedom we need. But’s only the first step.

Complete freedom, transcendent freedom isn’t found on the ground at all. It’s found in the air.

Transcendent freedom is flight. Unbound by even gravity.

Basic freedom is defined by our circumstances. We are free when we can go where we want and do what we want. When no one or no thing can stop us. We control our own destiny.

Ever met a teenager? They want basic freedom. And with it they learn to test themselves and their limitations. They start to see what they are capable of.

Basic freedom does not and cannot bring happiness however. Because basic freedom is defined by what we are free from. Once we attain that freedom, then what? Once we have that freedom we see that it isn’t really freedom at all. Because once the restraint is removed, the very definition of freedom goes away.

We are free, but we are empty.

Complete freedom, transcendent freedom is a freedom for something. It’s a freedom that allows us to reach higher than we ever though possible. A freedom that allows us to become people that we never though possible. To go places we’ve never dreamed of.

We are free and we are fulfilled.

Ironically, this transcendent freedom is rarely something we can obtain ourselves. We need help. To use our earlier metaphor, we need a plane in order to fly. And we need lessons to fly that plane. When we fully and completely give ourselves to another, then we can leave the ground.

Perhaps this is what the Apostle Paul means when he speaks of becoming slaves to Christ so that we might be free?

Could it be that willingly giving yourself fully to someone or something is the pathway to true freedom?

Do you have someone in your life that is teaching you how to fly? Someone who doesn’t hold you back, but lifts you up? Are you the engine for someone else’s freedom?

Or are you stuck on the ground? Does taking care of the basic needs of life require all your energy right now? Self-actualization? Hell, I’m just trying to get out of bed in the morning. And pay my bills. And heal my broken heart. And find some sort of purpose in the world. Flight? Transcendent freedom? I’m just trying to breathe.

A lesson from movie musicals is that all goes well…until it doesn’t.

But if you are reading this post right now, it means you are a living, breathing human being. Your movie isn’t finished.

The end of your story is not written yet.

And maybe, just maybe, there is something better ahead. A freedom you’ve never known. A time when all your needs are met. A person to fly with. A place to reach your full potential. A song. Your song. A dance in the clouds.

A happy ending.

May you breathe until you can sing. Walk until you can run. And dance until you can fly. Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last Sunday I got up early (okay, it was early for me) and went to a local donut shop. I bought three donuts and a cup of coffee. In case you’re counting, that’s two donuts for breakfast and one donut for lunch.

I was eating healthy that day.

All three were cake donuts, cooked just perfectly. Crispy on the outside and light & fluffy on the inside. One was vanilla bean flavored, one was churro and the other coconut cream pie.

I was eating healthy that day.

As I sat in my car eating my breakfast, I pondered the meaning of life. More specifically, what makes a donut a donut. That is, what makes it different from a biscuit, a muffin or a cinnamon roll. I mean, those are all excellent breakfast options, but what is the distinguishing characteristic of a donut?

So I messaged some people and asked, “Quick, without thinking, describe a donut.” And I got answers like:

Happiness

Childhood

Cakey

Sticky

Sugary wheel of death

Round, with a hole in the middle

************

Most standard models of cosmology suggest that the mass and energy of the universe is made up of 27% dark matter. The name dark matter comes from the fact that it doesn’t emit or react to electromagnetic radiation. One type of electromagnetic radiation is light. If an object doesn’t emit or reflect light, then that object is invisible.

27% of the universe is completely invisible.

While dark matter cannot be directly observed, its existence is inferred from its gravitational effects on the visible matter around it.

In other words, while it can’t be seen, it has a profound effect on everything around it.

Have you ever been to a party where everyone is happy? Everyone is dressed in their best clothes, drinking wine and eating a great meal. Music, dancing and laughter fill the room. But you feel strangely alone, because the person that you love more than anything else isn’t there.

Sometimes, a person’s absence can be more present than the presence of everyone else in the room. Right?

Sometimes, we are defined by an absence or a lack. Or to put it another way:

Sometimes we are defined by a hole in the middle.

Sometimes there is a presence that is completely invisible that guides our actions. And there’s a word for that.

Love

Sometimes love is that absence that is present. Sometimes love is that unseen thing that guides us. Sometimes love is the hole in the middle.

Most people are familiar with 1 Corinthians 13. It’s often referred to as the love chapter. It describes the attributes of love. Patience, kindness, humility, selflessness. The last few verses go like this:

Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.

Last time we learned that you can be very much alive but not really living at all. Now we learn something just as counterintuitive, and just as revolutionary. What if our very brokenness is the thing make us complete? What if the hole isn’t a lack at all, but rather the very thing that gives us life?

You see, the thing that makes a donut a donut is the hole in the middle. (Do not get me started on jelly donuts. Just don’t.) Often the thing that defines us is that unseen hole in our middle. The thing we circle around caught up in its gravity.

Do you feel broken? Does it seem like there is a huge wound that will never heal? Have you suffered a loss? Has a relationship ended and you feel like things will never be right again? Do you feel broken?

You aren’t broken. You’re a donut.

And it’s the hole that makes you whole.

That, my friends, is what it means to be not only alive but living.

Peace.

 

I grew up in a two story log cabin. It had one of those large open living areas with a loft and really high ceiling. There were three rooms upstairs. My brother’s bedroom, a bathroom and my bedroom. My bedroom was to the right of what’s called a half landing staircase. As the name implies, halfway up the stairs there was a landing area. On the landing area, my mother had setup some decorations. There was an antique sewing machine and a ceramic pot with dried flowers inside it. The pot was large, about two feet tall and was something of a family heirloom.

As children will often do, I would run up and down the stairs. And as mothers will often do, she would tell me not to do that. One day as I was coming down the stairs, on the very first step, I fell.

Gracefully of course.

As I recall, it was something like a base runner sliding feet first into second. But really, it was probably more like a child riding careening out of control down a water slide. Feet in the air. Bottom bouncing off each step. Until I reached the landing.

And the ceramic pot.

* * * * * * * * *

All material on Earth can be divided into two basic types, organic and inorganic. While the definitions vary, basically organic material is made up of compounds which contain carbon. Carbon is one of the building blocks of life. So, essentially, organic material is either currently alive or was living in the past. This material could be man-made, but only if it is made from natural organic compounds. Organic materials include items such as wood, paper and textiles. It also includes all living organisms. So, trees, fish, birds, flowers, cows, octopi, and human beings.

You are made of organic material.

Inorganic material does not contain carbon. It isn’t alive. Inorganic materials include stone, metal, minerals, and glass.

And the ceramic pot.

Now, all material is degradable. Over time wind, water, sunlight and microorganisms work through a process called decomposition to break material down into simpler, more stable, components.

Inorganic materials decompose. Rocks erode, break down and fall apart. Buildings crumble. Even the styrofoam cup that held your 32 ounce sweet tea will eventually fade away. It may just take a few million more years.

But when organic materials decompose, something special happens. Organic materials return their life back to the Earth. Energy, nutrients and water all return to the food chain. In other words, the things that create life never go away, they just take another form.

* * * * * * * * *

When I fell down the stairs that day and slid feet first into the second base that was my mom’s ceramic pot, I shattered it into approximately one billion pieces. All the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put that thing back together.

* * * * * * * * *

This past Saturday was a simply perfect autumn day. A chill in the air, the leaves just beginning to turn. So, I went to the woods. The woods have a certain feel to them, don’t they? It’s an ecosystem all its own. When you listen to the wind, or the sound of a distant creek, when you see the Autumn leaves in all their splendor you can’t help but feel more alive. And there is a smell. It’s a musty damp smell.

It’s decomposition.

A typical definition of this process might say that living organisms have died and are slowly returning to the soil to help form new life. And there is some truth to that. But maybe a better and more accurate way to look at it is that life is simply changing form. It’s taking a new shape. The energy is still there.

Carbon. Oxygen. Organic material.

Life.

In the book of John, Jesus says, “I have come that they may have life, and have it in all its fullness.” When Jesus said this, I think we can presume He was speaking to people who were currently living and breathing. They weren’t dead. They were alive. But were they living?

You are alive.

But are you living?

For Jesus, there was a new kind of life. More than just a beating heart or oxygen filled lungs. One with greater hope, joy, and love. But of course, one with more pain, struggle and heartbreak as well. Jesus is speaking about a life lived to its fullness. No holding back. One lived not just for yourself, but for others and with others. A life with unlimited potential. Where the hungry are fed and thirsty are quenched. A life where you are given total freedom. And a new kind of freedom. Not just a freedom from, but a freedom for. A freedom for bringing new light and new life into the world. That is what life is all about. You are a part of the process. A part of the cycle. You are alive, but are you living?

* * * * * * * * *

As I stood there, alone in the woods, watching leaves of brilliant red and gold swirl and fall to the ground, I realized that no one, no one in their right mind could watch this spectacle with anything less than profound amazement. No one would describe the trees as broken. Yet there they were falling apart. In a few short weeks they would be bare. Limbs once full and green would be empty. It’s leaves on the ground. But the tree isn’t broken and the leaves aren’t dying. The energy is still there. It’s only changing. Alive and living.

Do you feel broken? Are you far less than perfect? Have you made a complete mess of life? Has life made a complete mess of you?

My mom’s ceramic pot was broken. Shattered in a billion pieces. It wasn’t alive. It never was.

But the leaves. The leaves, like you, are organic, made up of the very building blocks of life.

The leaves aren’t broken. They’re only falling.

And maybe you are too.

 

 

 

Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall. – F. Scott Fitzgerald

Upon his enlightenment, the Buddha’s first teaching (what essay on changing seasons would be complete without the Buddha?) was to the present the Four Noble Truths. These truths are central to Buddhism. All other Buddhist teachings support these four ideas. And the first Noble Truth is:

Life is Dukkha

I’m pretty sure we can all agree with that statement.

Life is a big steaming pile of Dukkha.

Dukkha is a Sanskrit word most often translated into English as “suffering.”

Life is Suffering.

Got it. Thanks. Next religion please.

Maybe the second Noble Truth will help:

Dukkha is caused by greed, desire and attachment. In other words, life and everything in it is temporary and fleeting. Because we desire wealth, health, relationships, happiness, success, and peace, we will constantly be disappointed because all of those thing are temporary states. We may find them for a short period of time, but they won’t last.

This sounds fairly awful until you realize that this temporary and transient nature of life also applies to the painful times.

The calendar we use today was devised by the Romans roughly 2000 years ago and is based on a standard lunar year. These 365 days are divided into 12 months. The first month is called January. Within these twelve months we find the four seasons of Spring, Summer, Fall and Winter.

Did you ever wonder why the New Year begins in the dead of Winter on the first day of January?

Not if you live South of the Equator. Because there you would be ringing in the New Year in Bermuda shorts.

Rather than an arbitrary calendar date, shouldn’t we base the new year on a season?

Shouldn’t the New Year begin in the Spring? Isn’t that when we find the beginning of new life? Flowers bloom, grass grows, we shed our Winter coats, leave our homes and venture out to discover the world. Our attitudes improve. Cold and Flu season is over (let’s ignore allergy season for now). The birds are singing, the Sun is shining and life is wonderful. Surely this is the beginning of the year.

If Spring is the beginning, then Winter must be in the end, right?

What if there is a different way to look at it? For most of human history, life wasn’t industrially based. That’s a relatively new phenomenon. For most of our time on this planet, societies were agriculturally based. The most important time of the year was the harvest. All that they worked toward throughout the entire year culminated in the harvest. Fruits, vegetables, grains. Everything was harvested, celebrated and stored up. The fields were picked clean, plowed and left unplanted for a season.

This season is Fall.

The end of the cycle isn’t Winter. It isn’t death. It’s Summer. It’s harvest.

A field that is plowed and left unplanted for a season is called a fallow field. Allowing a field to lie fallow for a time will produce better crops.

Therefore, the beginning of the cycle isn’t new growth. It’s a fallow time. A time of rest. A time where on the surface nothing appears to be happening. But in reality, the soil is undergoing a transformation. Millions of microorganisms and nutrients are rejuvenating the soil and preparing it for it’s next season of growth.

Does life feel for you like one huge pile of Dukkha? Is someone that you love suffering through one storm after the next? Death, disease, brokenness, emptiness, failure. These experiences are painful. They are meant to be felt, shared and lived. But though they may seem it at times, they are not forever.

Are you in a fallow time? Does your life resemble a big, muddy, empty, plowed-over mess of a field? This too is a time to be felt, shared and lived. It is also only a season. It had to come, but it won’t last forever. Life will appear. Hopeful and new.

Perhaps we need a new Noble Truth:

Life is Fallow

And that’s okay. In fact, it’s good.

Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall. – F. Scott Fitzgerald

 

 

“When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.” – Sherlock Homes

The human mind, at least the modern human mind, seems to be hardwired with a desire for certainty. We’re uncomfortable with doubt. A + B should always equal C. If we do this, we should get that. There is an answer for everything. And that answer is logical. It’s comfortable. We want things to make sense.

Science teaches us that there is an order to the universe. There are laws of gravity and nature. What goes up must come down. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. The sun rises and sets every day. Like clockwork.

From clocks to computers to cars to cameras the things we’ve built run according to predetermined patterns. Hit this keystroke, push this button, turn this wheel and we know what will happen. It happens every time.

Music has a rhythm. A time signature. An order.

There are rules for grammar.

And mathematics.

A + B = C

Every time.

And that’s a good thing isn’t it?

Because without order in our lives there would be chaos. If what went up sometimes came down, we couldn’t function. We couldn’t fly an airplane, build a skyscraper, or toss a baseball.

We couldn’t even toast a Pop-Tart.

This need for answers, and order and certainty extends to our spiritual life as well. We want a purpose for everything. And our need for a seemingly logical answer is so strong that we’ll listen to anything that promises to take away doubt.

Why did this happen? Because you sinned.
Why did that happen? The devil.
Original sin.
The world is imperfect.
You’ll be rewarded in Heaven.
Free will.

All attempts to provide order. And meaning. And certainty. A reason.

But what if the radical truth of Christianity is that there isn’t always a reason? Certainty? Meaning? Or Order?

And that’s okay.

In the third century A.D., Tertullian is paraphrased as saying credo quia absurdum. A Latin phrase meaning “I believe because it is absurd.”

Crucifixus est Dei Filius, non pudet, quia pudendum est;

et mortuus est Dei Filius, prorsus credibile est, quia ineptum est;

 et sepultus resurrexit, certum est, quia impossibile.

— (De Carne Christi V, 4)

“The Son of God was crucified: there is no shame, because it is shameful.

And the Son of God died: it is by all means to be believed, because it is absurd.

And, buried, He rose again: it is certain, because impossible.”

It is certain, because impossible.

What if the foundational moment in Christian history, the death of Jesus on the cross, is the ultimate example of the impossible? God becomes human and God dies. We accept this now, but at the time this was a completely impossible concept. Gods were warriors. Gods were strong. Gods killed. They didn’t die. They certainly didn’t die in the most powerless and inhumane way.

Christ’s death is the ultimate example of, “Well that isn’t right.”

In his letter to the church in Corinth, Paul said:

Jews demand signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles. – 1 Corinthians 1:22-23

The Jewish faith looked for signs and the Greeks relied on reason. Each sought an explanation. Each sought order.

Signs and wisdom are two ways that mankind has attempted to explain the unexplainable. But Christ crucified says there is no reason. There is no one to blame. There is no easy answer. But God is right there in the middle of it.

Do you ever wonder why bad things happen to good people? Are you single and want a partner but you can’t find one? Did the business you worked so hard to build fail? Have you lost a loved one? Do you have doubts?

Have you asked these questions? I have. And the answers I’ve been given no longer work for me.

What if faith isn’t about taking away doubt? What if it isn’t about providing us with all the answers?

What if the radical, transforming power of Christ’s death on the cross is a new reality where we acknowledge doubt, and pain and unknowing? Where we no longer see these as failures and weakness? What if Christ died to say we are human? There is suffering. There are events in our life for which there is no explanation. But even in the middle of those, we can find hope and healing and love.

So, today I’m leaving behind the need for an answer to every situation. I’m putting to death the guilt I’ve confused with doubt. I’m letting go of my need for control. And I’m looking for those opportunities to share love and experience God with those people all around me, every day.

Care to join me?

And to Sherlock Homes I say, “Sometimes the impossible is the truth.”

And the truth shall set you free.

Can I get an amen?

 

 

 

 

I have a friend. She’s funny, wise and a bit strange. (All traits I look for in a friend.) She asked me the other day, “What is your sign?”

I know what you’re thinking. Is this 1975 at the Regal Beagle? …If you are under 40 years old, just ask your parents. They’ll get the reference.

As it turns out, I’m a Virgo. Virgos are intelligent, analytical introverts. They are serious, practical and loyal.

They can also be critical and stubborn.

And they overanalyze everything.

Over analysis leads to worry and worry leads to stress. And stress is the path to the dark side.

The dark side is our desire to control a situation.

Some situations demand that we are in control. Driving a car or operating heavy machinery for instance. But many (if not most situations) are simply out of our control.

Recently, I found myself in just such a situation. I was feeling very confused, and frankly alone. Hopeless was a word I used to describe it. To pretty much anyone that would listen. And believe me, I wanted somebody to listen.

Woe is me was my cry! See me suffer! Pity me. Encourage me! Hug me!

Are you not entertained?!

Surprisingly, most people were not. Sympathetic yes, but desiring to be around a whiny, mopey, sad sack of a Virgo, not at all.

There’s a story in the Bible of King David. King David has committed adultery with Bathsheba and had her husband killed. In the process, Bathsheba became pregnant. The Lord sent the prophet Nathan to show David his sin and the consequences were severe. David’s son, born of Bathsheba would die.

After Nathan makes his proclamation, the child becomes very ill. David prays to the Lord for the baby. David fasts and lays on the ground all night. His family tries to get him off the ground and to eat, but David refuses. This goes on for a week, and on the seventh day, the baby dies. David’s servants are afraid. David would not get eat or get up while the baby was suffering, what will he do when he hears of the child’s death?

When David sees the servants whispering, he knew what had happened. He asks, “Is the baby dead?”

“Yes,” they answer.

David does something completely unexpected.

He gets up, washes himself and changes clothes. And he eats.

And he worships God.

His servants are perplexed to say the least. “Why are you doing this,” they ask?

David said, “While the baby was still alive, I fasted, and I cried. I thought perhaps the Lord would let the baby live. But now that he is dead, I can’t bring him back. Someday I will go to him, but he can’t come back.”

At that point, David was completely out of control. He had done everything he could. He had given it his all. But when he was simply out of options, it was time to turn it over to God.

Which brings me back to the present. Not 1975, but the present.

I found myself in a situation that was completely out of my control. I had given it my all. And believe me, my all was something to see.

But was it enough?

That’s a painful lesson to learn. Sometimes, your best is not enough. The situation is simply out of your control.

So I did what Virgos do best. I overanalyzed. And I was pessimistic. And I worried. And I was stubborn.

But my funny, wise, strange friend said this, “Just relinquish. It’s out of your control. Focus on things you can control.”

Relinquish.

It’s out of your control.

Focus on things you can control.

So simple. So true. How did I not see it?

I was lost in a stubborn haze of over analysis and desire to be in control.

So, may you, my friends (especially my Virgo friends) get up. Wash yourselves off. Eat. And know that life is good and it’s meant to be lived. Here and now. May God work out my situation and may He work out yours.