Intimate News

I made an unusual request of my oncology team. I told them that when I returned the following week to hear the results of the radiologist report and the status of cancer progression, I wanted them to tell David first. I would be in the waiting room to hear from him. He Patient to doctorwould sit with me and go over the results.  We might pray together, then we would go the clinic room together to have the results further explained by the team and have our questions answered.

Weird, cowardly, childish, weak, faithless, avoidant, dramatic, insensitive to my husband by putting him in this position? All those descriptors passed through my mind as the day approached. On the actual day, I decided to forget the elaborate scheme and face up to the news without preamble. But my husband gave me a word picture that took away the shame.

“Dona, you are going to have to eat the whole sandwich (the radiologist’s report) at some point but how you want it presented – open-faced, garnished, toasted – is completely up to you. You’re the one going through this. Do it the way that makes it most tolerable.”

And my team completely understood, or at least acted like they did.  As my lead doctor said,

“Dona is the one with cancer, not me.  We do it her way.”

Intimacy

So, what was going on, aside from fear? It is intimacy and trust – intimate knowledge coming through my most trusted person. I wanted news from the person whose life would be most affected by this personal and significant information and from the person who knows me better and loves me more than any other.

An example from a long-ago happy event:
Who was the first person I told when i discovered I was pregnant? Life changing information that only made sense to share with the person most invested in our lives together. And whose lives would change dramatically as a result? Mine and his.
Again, intimate personal information shared within the most intimate of relationships. It’s really (in my mind) not so different from news about a disease notorious for causing pain, disability and death. I wanted to hear it from my husband no matter what it was.
But fortunately, intimacy doesn’t stop there.

Intimacy with God

David’s intimate relationship with God was ultimately what I was counting on in anticipation of hearing news related to my survival. If the scan and test results were disappointing, then I trusted David to tell me the facts along with the crucial caveats and realistic encouragements that would calm my fears and reorient me once again to the hope I profess in Jesus in all and every circumstance of life. I imagined praying together in those moments – intimacy with God would always and forever be at the heart of my life’s purpose and hope, even in life’s major disappointments.

The obvious

What if there was no husband or one that was willing to participate in my plan? Or what if there wasn’t a substitute like a trusted pastor or friend who could lead me to “the shepherd of my soul”?  Would I have fallen apart? Fallen into a pit of despair of which I couldn’t climb out?

I don’t imagine so. And here’s why:  Betsy Ten Boom who died at Ravensbrück for her participation in hiding Dutch Jews during WW2 said,

“There is no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still.”

I cling to that with gratitude.

Thankful Postscript
My test results were encouraging: “Skeletal cancer stable, metastatic liver disease showed marked improvement.”

Of course, this begs the question, would I write this same post if the news was not good? I hope so, I pray so. Again,

“There is no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still.”


 





 

 

Safe Havens

A group of Africans, fleeing persecution, showed me how I am safe in Christ, even amidst affliction.

safe haven pictureGun shots were heard in the distance and some of our guests became anxious.

Buffalo, New York is one of the safe havens for asylum seekers from all over the world fleeing political, religious and gang persecution.

Several weeks ago, 6 asylum seekers from different countries in Africa were our guests at our creek cabin in the Western New York countryside for a cookout, fishing, soccer, tennis (a first for them) and walking in the creek. They were visibly delighted for a beautiful country experience. But that changed when target shooting was heard in the distance. Some became immediately disturbed.

One asked, “Who has just been killed?” Another, “Are we safe here? In our countries when we hear gun fire someone has been killed. We came to this country to be safe – are we safe?!!”

These people had experienced unimaginable trauma and had to abruptly leave families, jobs and homes when their lives were under direct threat. So, I took a few minutes to reassure them that they were indeed safe and to explain that target shooting is a popular local hobby.

We resumed our festivities with other guests and the laughter and eating resumed. By the end of the evening each one wanted to give a speech of gratitude. Two African pastors asked the other Africans to surround me. Not knowing what to expect I was deeply touched by their eloquent and prayers on my behalf. I was overwhelmed by their love and their faith in Christ as they kept petitioning God to heal and bless “Mama!” Less the obvious is overlooked, these people had experienced every reason to be bitter and faithless but their steadfastness in the goodness of God was inspiring.

There are many geographic safe havens in this world (but not nearly enough) and I thank God that I live in Buffalo, NY; the city of “good neighbors.” Desperate people from all over the world have found a safe haven through the dedicated work of some city workers and non-profits.

There are also emotional safe havens.

I hope our asylum-seeking friends have found that as well through the kindness and help of many.
There are also spiritual safe havens. So, I trust that those fleeing religious and political persecution are experiencing freedom to worship and believe as they please.

About me:

Oddly enough there are times when I feel safe and secure within the reality of stage 4 breast cancer. It can be at church during the worship singing time when the collective praises to God fill me with joy. It can be times of family and grandchildren as well as friend gatherings where the good will and levity reminds me that I am loved.

It can be in bed at night when my husband reads the psalms to me and prays for me. Or it can be when my friends, Africans and others, surround me to pray. During those times, I just don’t feel safe, I know I am safe. Christ, my SAFE HAVEN, is reminding me that I am not alone or abandoned or without purpose even within affliction. My African brothers and sisters are exemplary testaments to that truth.

“Keep me safe, O God, for in you I take refuge.” Psalm 16:1

“You hear, O Lord, the desire of the afflicted; You encourage them, and You listen to their cry, defending the fatherless and the oppressed.” Psalm 10:17-18a

“The Lord is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble. Those who know Your name will trust in You, for You, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek You.” Psalm 9:9-10

Scans: It’s that time again :(

Medical scans make known the presence of disease. That can be terrifying. But there is another kind of knowledge.

ct scanIt’s that time again. I have metastatic breast cancer and so every 3-5 months I have nuclear imaging (bone scan) and a CT scan (vital organs) to determine whether the cancer has progressed. I had the dreaded scans a few days ago and now I await my appointment with the oncology team to review the results.

The whole ordeal feels like entering enemy territory without defenses. My peace is rattled as I sense a power and authority to direct the course of my life. But this is ridiculous. Scans have no power and authority. They are not an enemy. Scans are, essentially, objective knowledge; knowledge of the presence of disease. Scans are a kind of friend but a friend I don’t like or trust to make me feel good. I want friends to tell me what I want to hear. Scans tell it like it is. There is no sugar coating the truth of my physical innards. They may or may not reveal a need for surgery, chemicals and/or radiation to eradicate the sometimes-silent killers – the terrorist cells of the inner space. They can reveal news of intractable corruption and devastation that medical science is powerless to stop. Who wants friends like these? I don’t but yes, I do, but not really. Yes, really, I do. (Terrifying ambivalence!) What to do with such a truth-telling no-holds-barred friend? How am I to get a good night’s sleep the day before such a “friend” encounter? How do I calm down a nervous system that has been designed to be alert to threat? How do I calm the raging mind storm as the machines move up and down the body exposing and objectifying me as they take pictures of bones and organs?

Spiritual application:
In the New Testament the word of God is described as a type of scan – a scan of the heart and soul. And it’s that scan that I truly need to pay attention to. God’s in charge and I am his charge.

“For the Word that God speaks is alive and full of power [making it active, operative, energizing, and effective]; it is sharper than any two-edged sword, penetrating to the dividing line of the breath of life (soul) and [the immortal] spirit, and of joints and marrow [of the deepest parts of our nature], exposing {and} sifting {and} analyzing {and} judging the very thoughts and purposes of the heart.”
Hebrews 4:12

There are two types of scans that I have agreed to submit to. They both have authority over me. They both have knowledge of me. But as Lord Byron wrote long ago, “The Tree of Knowledge is not that of Life.”
According to Nicky Gumble of Holy Trinity Brompton in London there are different types of knowledge, and they are not all equally valuable. In French, there are two different words for ‘to know’. One (savoir) means to know a fact, the other (connaître) means to know a person. It is never enough simply to have knowledge of facts. To love a person, one must ‘know’ the person. Love resides in the ‘Who’ not the ‘What.’

Medical technology scans have authority in diagnosis that exceed my own, my doctors, my loved ones – anyone. They have a knowledge that transcends blood tests and feeling states. Scans are designed to guide a path of medical intervention. They don’t cause the problem; they expose the problems so that wise decisions can be analyzed and recommended.

But scans offer no hint to a meaningful existence beyond the body. Medical scans do not reveal corruption of the soul and a cure for it. Scans give no promise of redemption nor power for resurrection. Scans offer no love. And they certainly can’t inspire awesome wonder and respect. Christ fulfills all that and more.

So, this Thursday the door of the consultation room will open, my team will walk in, and my senses will be as alert as a gazelle listening for the approach of a lion. I will be comforted and loved by the faithful husband next to me, and by a medical team who truly care for me. And in that room the Holy Spirit (the Counselor, Comforter and Friend) will be present whether I sense His presence or not. I am known! I am loved! I will be ultimately loved and comforted no matter what

“Going from Life to More Life”

A sensitive but probing comment from a dinner companion caused me to consider anew the privilege and blessing in knowing your days are numbered.

i love dinner with friendsDinner with friends a few evenings ago led to a conversation not usually found on a list of social dinner topics. My last blog post generated comments and questions about living in appreciation of life’s moments without assumptions of endless tomorrows. As we discussed this post my host struggled to express a sentiment that he worried would offend for its insensitivity. Finally, it came out. To paraphrase,

“You, Dona, know your mortality on a visceral level, affording opportunity for deep reflection and insight into life, death, God, and eternity. Now, any of us here could die before you, but we would have missed an opportunity to think through these questions. Here comes the part which might offend – because of your awareness of the eminence of your death you are more blessed than us.”

My dear friend had made an insightful and totally sensitive comment. He would have never said this to a young adult or parent with young children. There is the fact that at 68 I have lived long enough to see children grow up and to have experienced a lot of life. I am old. Not-ready-to-die-old but living longer than the majority of the world.

So, I considered anew the significance of being able to live thoughtfully and gratefully. There is a strange privilege and blessing in knowing your days are numbered. You ponder more.

My latest pondering

For too long I have thought of eternal life as what happened after death and having nothing in common with life as I know it. A deeper examination of what Jesus says reveals a “nowness” to this eternal life.

And the testimony is this, that God has given us eternal life, and this life is in His Son.”
– 1 John 5:11

Truly, truly, I say to you, he who hears My word, and believes Him who sent Me, has eternal life, and does not come into judgment, but has passed out of death into life.”
– John 5:24

So,

  • How do I live more fully into this eternal life promised by Jesus?
  • How can I already see myself in this ‘already-eternal-life’ so that the end will be, as my friend called, “going from life to more life”?

One of the ways I cultivate this “now-ness” was described in my last post. I nurture curiosity in as many things as I can realizing that this joy of learning and discovery are mere intimations of more to come. Second, when I laugh with and love those around me I resist the joy-snatcher demons that want to remind me that I won’t have this for long. Rather, I remember Jesus’ words, “I have told you these things so that my joy may be in you and your joy may be complete.” I now assume that this joy I experience is a glimpse of a completed joy to come. And finally, I think about Jesus who said that He was and is the light, the way and the resurrection; a spring of water that quenches all thirst for unfulfilled longings. He’s the real deal, the conduit to life eternal. He’s a joy to know and to know better.

(Caveat:  I’m not superhuman. I have my down moments as you might suspect but many days I live in the life of more life to come.)

A conversation with my grandsons somehow led to the telling of the story of Jesus and the woman at the well. I took some liberties with the story and highlighted parts that I knew would intrigue them, like the tension and animosity between Jews and Samaritans at that time. I emphasized how Jesus would have no part of that nonsense. By the end of the story, the 9-year-old spontaneously commented, “that Jesus is a great guy.” Bulls eye hit! Hallelujah! Nothing more needed to be said, just letting that thought sit with him and with me. Jesus, a great guy, a great God who offers the eternal life now with all its evolutions, dimensions, progressive developments and for tastes of the new heavens and new earth to come.

We Have This Hope

Metastatic breast cancer is a serious chronic disease that can’t be cured and is nearly always fatal. I am hoping for the miraculous and whether that comes through medical research or from Divine intervention I will be shouting hallelujah!!!

The disease, like many diseases, forces life changing limitations that tempt many to disbelieve in a good God. But not all will go that path. There has been and will be those who will find their limitations wooing them to trust in a God who loves them.
I understand that for some skeptics, faith in God is a crutch. I disagree. Faith is not a crutch, it is a rescue gurney – a Stokes litter, an essential for which I need not apologize. A crutch would never carry the weight of my greatest limitation: a finite mind and troubled soul unable to locate the peace and joy I long for.

Today is Good Friday, the calendar day that Christians have honored for centuries. This is the historical transcendent event that provided rescue gurneys for all who would humble themselves to be carried. The story of a paralyzed man on an actual rescue litter in Luke 5:17-49 is worth a look as a way of testing what I’m about to write.

34_jesus-forgives-sins-and-heals-a-man-stricken-with-palsy_1800x1200_300dpi_3

A paralyzed man is so helpless that his friends lower him on a gurney through a torn-out roof top to put him before Jesus. His good friends went to this extreme because the crowd around Jesus was impenetrable. The moment arrives when friends and the crowd anticipate a healing miracle by Jesus.
But, Jesus does the unexpected. He pronounces the man’s sins forgiven, sending a shock wave among the religious whose theological understanding would see this statement as blasphemous, because, as they said, “Who but God can forgive sins?” Jesus, knowing their thoughts, challenges their thinking and hardness of heart. Jesus points to our greatest limitation, the disruption of our relationship with God through lack of love for Him which will eventually challenge our ability to love others, especially the unlovable. Then he gives the man the physical healing of mobility.

Good Friday celebrates the day of Christ’s crucifixion. Why are Christians “celebrating” such a tortuous event; decried by skeptics as morbid? But this horrific offense is not what we celebrate. We celebrate with somber reverence the display of extravagant grace and costly love done by the only one who could forgive sins, our greatest limitation.

So Happy Easter, dear friends. We have this hope. As Paul said , in talking about our mortality, “we do not grieve like the rest of humankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and arose again.”

More on finding comfort in God

He hears me crying.

img_3385
One of my creek stone art creations

Mornings can be tough. I wake and face a day where side effects of treatment must be managed, including the worst of all, fatigue which challenges every movement. As I texted to a friend, yesterday, “This ‘whack-a-mole’ existence, the bane of all of us Stage 4 types, will be endless. Do I have the strength for this?”

And so I cry, and David hears.

The other day he encouraged me to read my posts from 2014-2016.
“I read them, Dona, and they are good and comforting. Perhaps you would receive comfort, too.”

I have taken his encouragement to heart so I am reading a few here and there (see companion piece that I wrote earlier on finding God’s comfort) but with some trepidation; fearing that that which was so real back then will not feel as real now that the diagnosis is so much harsher. And not only have I been reluctant to read my previous cancer blog posts, but I enter the cancer hospital feeling less familial with my fellow tribe of cancer sufferers. An unhealthy envy creeps into my psyche for all those folks who have cancer but are in the treatment for the cure. I was one of them in the “good old days of stage 3” but now metastatic singles me out, isolates me from the others or so it feels. It is as if I wish there was a clinic within the hospital with its own private entrance that was reserved for all stage 4 cancer patients. I imagine myself talking more with these folks, mining their thoughts and feelings, sharing something helpful with them and they with me. I’m thinking of joining a Stage 4 support group. Meanwhile, I am reading my earlier posts and breathing sighs of relief that it is still the comforting truth for me then and for me now.

As bleak, sad and angry as I can feel sometimes it always comes down to something that the apostle Peter said when many followers left Christ after He delivered a hard teaching. Jesus turned to Peter and asked, “Peter, will you leave me, also?” Of which Peter responded, “Where else would I go? You have the words of eternal life.”

Life as we all well know can be cruel, indifferent and unbearable at times. If not for us its no doubt been hard for people we know and love. And if somehow we and all our family and friends have escaped the vicissitudes of life, well, then just read news about places and people who struggle through unimaginable loss and suffering. Where do they all go when it gets tough? A lot die, no doubt, but did they die with hope? I don’t know and nor do I presume to answer for them but I have found no greater answer to my despair than what Peter said to Jesus.

“Where else would I go? You have the words of eternal life”. (John 60:68)

When I am struggling with the demon of despair it’s the reality that Christ has the words of eternal life that throws me the life ring of hope and faith. There is something about the words of Christ and the words of his followers who wrote gospels and letters in a text we dandelioncall the New Testament that awakens something in me that feels alive, organic, true and full of conviction, promise and hope. The scriptures give me comfort in my grief but also the scriptures give me needed chastisement from time to time that feels oddly hopeful, too. The scriptures challenge me to think outside my pre-occupation with self – the mandate to serve and pray for the poor and others brings comfort.  The scriptures prompt me to think about the cosmos (I’m binge watching Netflix’s the “Fabric of the Universe”). The big bang of our big God excites and reassures. Genesis 1: “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.”  I like contemplating the bigness and mysteries of God and His creation and I imagine his delight as humans are driven to discover and explore the grandeur of it all.

One of my favorite quotes from Jerome, one of the early Christian fathers, concerning the gospel captures wonderfully what these words of eternal life are like for me:

“The Scriptures are shallow enough for a babe to come and drink without fear of drowning and deep enough for a theologian to swim in without ever touching the bottom.” ― Jerome.

I am more than fond of this Jerome quote. It is one of my favorites. I like to think that suffering when I am at my best moves me beyond treading water to  diving deep for those words of eternal life.

The Race you have been trained to run

passing the batonHebrews 12:1-3

I heard a sermon by Earl Palmer,the former senior pastor of University Presbyterian Church in Seattle years ago. I have since used parts of this sermon in several presentations, including a presentation to a group of young Christian Palestinians, Messianic believers and Norwegian Christians agreeing to meet and socialize together in order to better understand each other.

I will begin todays post by a question: if you call yourself a follower of Jesus do you realize you have been called to a race? And it is not just any kind of race.  You have been invited to participate in a relay race.

Several aspects of a relay race are helpful to our understanding of who we are.

start blocks in relay racePalmer points out that in a relay race the time and place are established and set by someone else. The starting blocks and the times of the race are determined by someone other than the runners.  And so it begins that way with each of us. None of us had a say as to when or where or to whom we would be born to. Feeling guilty that I was born in the West during the 20th century and not in some desperately poor country is a useless waste of emotional energy as is feeling resentful for the circumstances outside my  control that I wish were different.

So what happens when someone realizes that God determines the place and time of their existence?  If there is trust in the goodness of God and His love, a lot can happen that is healing and purposeful. Something spiritually powerful can begin to take root that belies historical distrusts and hurts.  The Holy Spirit shows up and begins to speak forgiveness and hope into the most recalcitrant personal or culturally loaded grievance.  As a follower of Christ understanding takes root that someone of holy splendor, power and love is ruler of you, me and of everything.  And He is at work which includes determining our time and place of existence to do a foreordained job. So, what is that job? The relay race metaphor can help with this.   It is not just the time and place of the race that has been given to us but also the baton.  No one brings their own baton to a relay race.  But if there is no baton then there is no relay race to run.

The baton? Well, it is the gospel of Christ. It did not originate with us but was handed to us to do what with? Well, to pass it on, of course.  Would it not be a ridiculous race if one of the athletes after having the baton passed to her, ran off the course, yelling, “I got it, I got it- I win!”  We in the crowd would be perplexed and distressed that the race had been corrupted, ruined or at least misunderstood and pointless. The gospel is good news to who? You, certainly but not only to you or me. To everyone it is good news whether it’s accepted and appropriated or not. But just like in a relay race, the baton doesn’t just float along like some low flying UFO. It is person handled –held on to with care, seriousness and determination to make sure it reaches its next destination-the next runner who grabs it to begin her part of the race – This is God’s race of bringing His rule to fruition.

Now, what do we bring to the race? What is it that is not assigned to a runner? The running shoes are unique to each of the runners in much the same way that each of us bring our unique gifts, talents and experiences to the race of God’s time sensitive growing rule of truth, love and justice. The parable of the talents (Matthew 25:14-30) that Jesus told his audience made it crystal clear that God has expectations of us being invested in His kingdom growth investment plan.  we are to do something with our uniqueness and that something presupposes that God’s purposes are good and worth whatever the cost. “Thy will be done on earth as it in heaven”. Are we all equally gifted to perform in the same way? Not from the way I read the Jesus parable. Maybe some of us will come to the race with designer athletic shoes, others’ with off brand knock-offs and others might come to the race with worn down, worn out thrift shop specials. The question in the parable is not how snazzy your shoes are but whether you believe the race is well worth the demands. So, how can we all do this race thing with winning success?

“Running the race with perseverance keeping our eyes on Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith” (Hebrews 13:1-3) is our cheer, our call and our finish line. Is it really that hard if it doesn’t depend on the level of our abilities? Yes, it is! It’s really very hard. After all, it comes with training, sacrifice, pushing against all kinds of resistance and even occasional booing from watchers of the race.  But is it worth it to participate in the race? To quote the disciple, Peter, after Jesus asked him whether he was going to leave him like other disciples had left him, “Where else would I go? You have the words of eternal life.”

Look around! Is there or has there ever been anyone else like Jesus? Are there any heroes out there like Jesus Christ?   Don’t even try to look for a hero within the Christian faith. There is none but Christ and that is why he is the only goal and prize well worth the call and cost of the race.

Looking for purpose…

Pre-script:  Dear readers, many of my posts reflect what kind of person I want to be or how I want to feel and think, not who I really am.  It fact one of the reasons I write is to help me define who I should be, not, unfortunately, who I am.  So, it this particular post comes across to you a bit lofty and high-minded then take what I just wrote into consideration.  At my best I’m only what Paul said, “not that I have taken hold of it yet…but,…I strain forward toward what is ahead.”  (Philippians 3:13)

I just moved from Alaska to urban Buffalo, NY.  I loved Alaska with its beauty, natural diversity.  I particularly loved the people of Juneau, my friends, my church.  As sad as it was to move it was still the right move.  I’m grateful.  Urban Buffalo has its own beauty.  I want to write about that in my next post.

However, leaving Juneau meant leaving my practice as a professional mental health counselor.  I boxed up my files and closed the office.  I said goodbye to an identity, a life-purpose that I had pursued for 17 years.  In the run up to the move I felt diminished.  I selfishly and myopically felt I had lost my purpose.

I’m looking for a re-purposed driven life (to misuse the title of the Rick Warren mega-seller).

I’m going to pray; or I’m going to try to pray.

I don’t mean “pray” to find purpose, I mean pray as a way of performing purpose. Some doing may ensue- maybe even a lot doing but I am hoping I learn a lesson: don’t make the doing my purpose.

Praying seems too passive for the able and active. A “purpose-driven life” must be filled with “acts of service” that make a tangible difference in the world; acts to bring about peace, justice, and the gospel to the world……bettering the lives of the people we are in relationship with, or bettering the lives of the under- resourced or broken heart-ed or the enslaved. Such would bring great meaning to a life. Would it not?


Praying is many times an activity that decorates what we really want to be about rather what we are to be about.

We all recognize the merits of the above as worthy of being purposeful.  But just praying? Hmmm… Praying is many times an activity that decorates what we really want to be about.  Praying as an end to itself is usually assigned to the elderly or disabled who can’t do anything else or to the helpless and distraught that feel tangible options are off the table or to orders of nuns or monks who have been called to a community of prayer.

Imagine someone asking you what your purpose in life was and “praying” was your answer. Imagine asking yourself what the meaning of your life was and you answer, “To pray.” I don’t know about you but that answer would sound, dare I say it, boring or presumptuous or as often has been said, “too heavenly minded to be any earthy good.” Yes, I want to pray and I want to do even more of it than I am doing but making that the purpose of my life? At the risk of repeating myself, it just sounds too mundane and maybe not even spiritual enough or maybe too spiritual and maybe even a little lonely and risky. Now, why would I say that?   Self-examination seems to indicate that I use more actions and less trust to carry me through the daily tasks at hand. How do I know that? Well, for starters I am aware of how little I invite Jesus into my comings and goings. I am aware of how little I engage him with my self-talk. I am a trouble shooter on a good day- a worrier on a bad day and in neither days is Jesus invited into the situation. It comes down to this:   Does praying really have efficacy?   Prayer as my purpose, no doubt, would be a dead end if I doubted the power behind it. Prayer would be a dead end if I brought to prayer my will of how things should go and Not God’s. Prayer would be a dead end if I listened too hard and long to the doers of this world and not the be-ers. Prayer would be a dead end if I believed myself unworthy or my concerns too insignificant to count.

I am comforted that in the gospel of Mark a distraught father asked Jesus to heal his demon possessed son.  Jesus told him to believe. And in sincere desperation the father cried out, “I believe, help me in my unbelief!”  Mark did not have to record that interaction. I am glad he did. It frees me up to be real with Jesus. “Praying as purpose” requires extraordinary faith, or does it? The father in this Jesus interaction certainly didn’t come to prayer with great faith but he came – to Jesus. Coming to Jesus is coming to prayer with little faith or with great faith. It’s coming with certainty or coming completely befuddled about God or about myself – maybe, especially about myself. So, I am allowed to be perplexed about a lot of things like the trinity or how free will and predestination work or why God doesn’t just put an end to this violent world and usher in his new earth and heaven. And I get to be perplexed about how praying actually can be so purposeful and powerful that it can be a person’s main purpose in life causing told and untold transformations in human institutions and in individuals.

I have become increasing aware of the myriad of internal dialogues which often lead to a disruption of faith and trust.  I am embarking on a new goal:  Inviting Jesus into the dialogues- literally- “Jesus, I am now inviting you into this desire, worry, concern, distress or happiness”.  I’m not sure but this may be part of the meaning of the apostle’s Paul’s words to, “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17).

If prayer as purpose sounds too basic, mundane, weak, boring, then l suggest a word search of prayer in the New Testament.  Be astounded with the numerous references, circumstances, purposes and outcomes. But always remember it is the object of praying that holds the power and purpose. It’s Jesus, it’s always about Jesus –“the author and finisher of our faith”. He prayed, his followers prayed, and so should we. It’s a great purpose. It tells us who we are no matter what.

Reality TV featuring, “The Lifestyle of My Better-Off Neighbors

Reality TV when it features the rich and famous can be great fun.  My scientific neighborhood study reveals why:  two people interviewed (myself and my husband) said that they were amused for the following reasons: they felt superior and smug for not needing all that fluff for contentment. And two, looking at yachts, sprawling spa mansions, haute couture fashion and cosmetic surgical work was easy on the eyes especially when being judgmental at the same time. Being Judgmental while viewing fluff neutralizes slothful use of time.

I realize that reality TV is routinely made fun of or thoroughly enjoyed by many. I wouldn’t know for I typically don’t watch TV because I am ‘a reader’. I don’t count Netflix streaming or DVDs, because I am too smart to bother with commercials. It’s true that once in a while I catch an episode of the rich and famous but hardly ever without being judgmental.

Recently, however, I thought of a reality TV show that might actually keep me glued to my seat while at the same time wishing I could get up and do almost anything else- Like offer to take Gus (my sister-in-law’s dog) for a walk and dispose of fresh dog poop so as to be neighborly.

So, speaking of neighbors this is my idea of a reality TV show.  Instead of viewing the acquisitions of the rich and famous my show would take the camera into the homes and lives of neighbors and peers. Reality TV would allow people of a particular economic class to voyeuristically view and compare the homes, possessions, body sizes, landscaping, vacation plans, hobbies, parties, friends, spouses, food choices, financial portfolios and children’s achievements of their neighbors who are roughly in their same economic class.

The first episode of my Reality TV show called “The Lifestyle of my better-off neighbors” would go something like this:

Producer Devin Jones, “Today we are in the home of the Kolwaspy’s. (The cameras move into the newly remodeled kitchen from the newly remodeled arctic entry.  We hear the couple talking about how they had received an unexpected inheritance from Lester’s great aunt twice removed who was from a fishing village in Iceland that Lester could not pronounce or spell.)

Cameron Kolwaspy: “We are so thrilled to have received this money. We were able to get some things done to the house that we have always wanted like this kitchen island, Swedish cabinets and stone counter tops.  I couldn’t be happier”.

Lester Kolwaspy, “Yeah, we were doing ok , saving money for the kids college but having to put some of the nicer things on hold;  but now, Whoopee, we are able to get  things we have always wanted. Yep, life couldn’t get much better.”

(At this point in the show, producer Devin invites the Kolwaspy’s into the studio to view an earlier shooting of neighbors who live further down the street whom they don’t know well.)

We are in real time, now, with the Kolwaspys who are viewing the earlier shooting of the Moore’s home.

Producer Devin: “The Moore’s home was designed by Lisa’s brother who maximized features of their one acre lot to create a facsimile of a Frank Lloyd Wright home that buts up against a national park. Stunning views from floor to ceiling windows span the back of this house.”

Lisa, “no one would know unless they came into this home how beautifully the house blends into the natural environment of the national park behind us”.  We are often asked by photo journalists of modern home magazines if they can photograph our home”.

Maury Moore, “Yep, a home assessor told us that this house is worth twice as much as any home in this neighborhood. It’s great that Lisa has such a talented and helpful brother.”

At this point, the cameras focus on the crest fallen Kolwaspy couple. Although subtle, the attentive viewer will notice that Cameron who previously had been stroking Les’s back has inched herself away from her husband as she begins to think of a national forest as a back yard.

Les is looking at Cameron as he says, “all that sunlight is still going to fade their furniture, and I don’t care how much that home is worth”.

Cameron turns away from Les and confides to the camera, “Les is a hardworking man and good provider, but sometimes I do wish he would think more long-term.  Five years ago he should have foreseen that the best lots in this development would be the ones adjoining the National Forest.”

The first episode concludes with Les advocating, at times with great intensity, the pros of taking out a second mortgage in order to build an air-conditioned bar-be-que pavilion.  Cameron thinks a better idea is to sell their house and ‘get back to nature.’ (I.e. build on a lot adjacent to the national forest.)

Music and lyrics of the show play softly in the background

Producer Devon: “Join us for the next episode of “Lifestyles of Our Better Off Neighbors” when the Moore’s and their son, Cane, go to their friends’ home, the Bragstons,  for a party celebrating their son,  Abe’s full scholarship to Princeton University.  Cane, himself is no slacker as he has just been accepted to the regional college.  So, see you next week at the Bragston’s home for Abe’s celebratory party.

Theological reflections:

The Ten Commandments meant for human flourishing are still relevant after 3,500 years. In case you have forgotten the 10th one.

Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife, nor his manservant, nor his maidservant, nor his ox, nor his ass, nor any thing that is thy neighbor’s.” Exodus 20:1-17.

According to Webster, ‘covet’ implies strong envious desire.

It does not take a psychologist to imagine the negative emotions and behaviors that arise if coveting is not recognized and reined in.

Envying what your neighbor has starts with comparing yourself to your neighbor.   A recent study by a research team from UNC Chapel Hill demonstrated that if persons perceived themselves to be economically better off than their neighbors they expressed more fiscally conservative views. In other words, they were against adjusting tax schedules that moved towards greater economic equality. If someone perceived themselves to having less than their neighbors then their views reflected more fiscally liberal views that attempted to advance more economic equality. It is not my intent to promote more or less taxes.  I’m interested in what the study reveals about human nature.  The telling thing about this study was that the actual income of the participants was not a variable.  The perceived “better off” (“hmm… I am better off than my neighbors”) neighbor could actually be living below the poverty line and still be a fiscal conservative (i.e. against higher taxes to bring more economic equality).  The perceived less well-off neighbor (“hmm… I am worse off than my neighbors”) could none-the-less be in a very comfortable income bracket but curiously pro-tax for economic equality.  The individuals’ views were simply based on their perception of being better or worse off than their neighbors. http://psychcentral.com/news/2014/11/26/perception-of-wealth-influences-political-stance/77824.html

Is it possible that a selfish, envious bias is inherent in human nature?  We try to feel better about ourselves by comparing ourselves to others and this is the root of coveting and pride.

C.S Lewis expresses this aptly in Mere Christianity, “Pride gets no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man… It is the comparison that makes you proud: the pleasure of being above the rest. Once the element of competition is gone, pride is gone.”

Comparing ourselves to others is not benign.  Apparently God was on top of these sinful human traits.  Ten ancient commandments still seem quite relevant.

Look at the video to see how Facebook has become our culture’s newest coveting trap. It will take only a few minutes to be entertained and uncomfortable at the same time. http://media.preachingtoday.com/mini-movies/52441/the-facebook-trap

Ok, so what are we to do about this. A few observations from my own life have helped from time to time. I wish I could say that this is an issue long ago dealt with but that would be breaking the 9th Commandment (don’t lie). The following have helped.

Remember the poor

Jesus in the gospels says a lot about our relationship to the poor and the Apostle Paul in Galatians 2:10 tells us to remember the poor. This may seem obvious and simplistic. But is it? The verb ‘to remember’ in this context is not some appeal to passive reflecting and memory testing. The “remembering” spoken of here is active and intentional for the betterment of the under-resourced. Most of us are so well sheltered from the poor with the busy-ness and priorities of our middle class lives that remembering the poor is anything BUT simple. We have to be intentional in remembering the under-resourced. I mean really intentional with what we choose to read, hear and think about – enough to eventually spend some of our hard earned money, creative energy and time. But it’s not as sacrificial as you might think. There is an emotional and spiritual pay off. When we remember the poor we grow in empathy and we grow in gratitude.  And when those two things happen we become more content people with less frowny faces.  And when we have less frowny faces we have less wrinkles and when we have less wrinkles we can feel superior to our more aged looking friends. See, what I mean? Comparisons are lurking around every corner of our life. Seriously, remembering the poor translates into more contentment and gratitude. And who doesn’t need more of that?

Believe in the Jesus revealed in the Bible – not some Jesus of your own making. If you put your trust in Christ you also get the Holy Spirit. Open yourself to listening to the Spirit. He is promised to us as our guide, teacher and counselor. It takes supernatural help to break our natural bent to selfish desires, self-interest and wanting to be better than others.  It is in our human DNA so we need interventions outside ourselves to break these strangleholds and that is the role of God, the Holy Spirit. When we are choosing to listen to that still small voice of the Spirit we are drowning out the dissonant loud voices of comparison dissatisfaction and perceived deprivation.

coveting cartoon

So dear readers my advice to you and to me is enjoy reality TV – no harm done, its TV! But let’s watch out for our own reality show.  Comparing  ourselves to others is not benign.  From time to time we may need a social media break and spiritual inventory.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The View

I am about to sell my home of 19 years in Juneau, Alaska.  I will no longer own the spectacular view that has been my website’s cover picture ever since I started blogging in March 2014. The Gastineau channel, Mt. Roberts, city of Juneau and the cruise ships that grace the harbor 5 months of the year are not my possessions but the picture window, showcasing a breathtaking scene of  beauty, has been mine. But I sense an encroaching disquiet coming from a desire to own something of beauty that is threatening to steal my gratitude and perspective.

I am moving back to my 600 square ft. cozy rented apartment in Buffalo, NY and happy to do so.  But I’m wistful as I sit in my living room writing this post. As my eyes shift from the computer screen to the scene outside my window the realization that I will no longer have the privilege of feasting my eyes on this particular changing scene of beauty feels surreal.

Years ago I  occasionally dreamed I was washing dishes in another home looking outside its window above the sink. In the dream I was continually asking myself, “How did it happen that I am here and not in Juneau, looking out my picture window? How did I give up such beauty?” Waking up was always a happy relief. “Yay, it is all still MINE.”

Anyone feeling sorry for me yet? I hope not.  In fact, I may have annoyed some of you. “Spoiled Brat” would not be too far off the mark.  Who in this world gets to live in a modest 1964 home with its accompanied price tag and enjoy a multi-million dollar view? Not many middle class folk. Oh yeah, there are many, many desperately under-resourced people of the world who have exquisite views from their ramshackle homes but they are also at risk of devastation brought on by tsunamis, mud slides, hurricanes,  earthquakes, floods, malnutrition, disease, exploitation and violence.

A view from a middle class home cannot be separated from social economics. Being economically comfortable allows me the luxury to gush over the view I own.

Now, I am not saying there is anything wrong in being middle class, owning things or lucking out with a fabulous view. Far from it! I want to be genuinely grateful for this undeserved gift of beauty for 19 years and be grateful for my cozy little rented buffalo apartment that I will be moving back to. I should be emotionally on top of this.  I have been schooled as a follower of Jesus for several decades so I believe it when the gospels have Jesus saying something to this effect, “Stop worrying about what you are going to own and what ‘views’ you will enjoy because your life is worth so much more than that stuff and your Heavenly Father knows what you need and how to get you through the good stuff without greed, pride, selfishness, entitlement and hoarding  and the bad stuff without despair and abandonment.” (Matthew 5:19-34 paraphrased by me).

My pseagulesoint of self-criticism is that there is an emotional dysfunction revealed in the words, “mine” and “I need to own it.”  It is not the the-in-your-face greed of those seagulls in ‘Finding Nemo’ who perched on the piling keep calling out, “mine, mine, mine, mine.”  There is something more seductively deceiving and greedy going on here. Something that can bring on a case of “perspective amnesia” in no time.   When I was in the midst of 9 months of treatment for stage 3 breast cancer, my little attic apartment was a sanctuary of peace and hope. View,” shmiew” who cared? Certainly not me. I was not longing for my Juneau home view. I was glad to be getting treatment for a life threatening disease from a major cancer institute only two miles from my apartment while being near my children, grandchildren and a small group of believers who prayed for me and cheered me on, as were the dear friends from Juneau and elsewhere. And less I forget, my husband was with me and I mean, really with me!  I was enjoying a view on love and some heavenly treasures. Matthew 6:19-21 bears quoting: “Do not store for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.”

Six months later and two good post cancer treatment checkups are “ clouding “the view on love and “clearing”  the view from my Juneau home with more magnificence and enticement  than I have ever remembered and even more so now that I am selling it.  The soon “not to be my view” is taunting me with regret, sadness and loss. “Who am I if I don’t own this?”  “What will make me feel special?” “How will out of town guests be drawn to visit if the vacation package does not include this place?” This is stupid thinking.  As I write these thoughts down they get stupider by the second.  (Here is a therapy tip:   When you write down disquieting thoughts their significance is opened up to a debate. The false reasoning is exposed.  You, then make sure you win the debate with more reasonable thoughts).

Here is a useful verse to reflect on: Psalm 39:4 “Show me, Lord, my life’s end and the number of my days; let me know how fleeting my life is.”  Happy verse? Probably not. Liberating one? Most definitely. Life being fleeting doesn’t conjure up a fleet of possessions meeting me at my glorious eternal home. So, meanwhile, it will be best to keep a view of love in perspective.  And with a detached gratefulness say goodbye to a view from a home I owned and enjoyed for 19 fleeting years.