BEFORE COFFEE

It is amazing what gifts come to me before coffee.

I awaken, a comfortable bed and my wife breathing quietly as she sleeps. I hear a morning dove cooing outside the window. I throw back the sheet, put my feet on the carpet, stand, and can walk. I turn on the faucet and clean water comes out for me to wash my face. I wander down the hall of our little house, cool from the AC. I turn on the light over the coffee pot and take filtered water from the refrigerator which just keeps running. The water is poured into the coffee maker, sounding like a running stream. I pour the coffee beans in the grinder and as I grind them (for exactly 13 seconds) the warm aroma of coffee excites my expectations. I open the blinds and soak in the garden. I lay down on the floor to do my stretching and my body still works. I stand and stretch my muscles and sleep gives way to the energy of the day. I then go in the kitchen and pour a cup (then taste it to make sure it is good) and quietly take it in to place on the night stand next to my sleeping wife. I then go and pour my first cup of coffee.

Wow! What a life I have!!  I have only been awake for 20 minutes and already I have received incredible gifts. I am alive. I can feel the carpet on my skin. I can hear the dove, the water, the beans grinding. People who have worked on the infrastructure of my city make it possible to feel cool water on my face, to have electricity for cooling the air, to provide a safe community so I can live without fear. I can be stimulated by the aroma of ground beans. My body, while having some parts that don’t work as well as they used to, still is able to carry me and hold me and nurture me.

When I think of my life before coffee, I am simply overwhelmed.  For if I kept a log of my whole day, I am sure I would drown in gratitude. For the goodness that I experience is beyond measure. The gifts are innumerable. 

So, for at least a while now, I am considering myself a truly blessed human being.

WHERE DO YOU GO?

I heard it twice in 2 days from 2 different people.

In a men’s group, we were checking in. How are you feeling as you sit down and come apart? One friend said, “I don’t want to be here tonight, but I know that I will feel differently when it is over. This is the one place where I come that I think about what I am grateful for.”

Another friend who was a pastor for his whole life wrote a response to a question from the newspaper: “What are the Best Parts about Going to Church.”  He said, among other things, “Church experiences affords participants the regular discipline of reverence as well as opportunities for usefulness through hands-on service.”

Where do you go to think about what you are grateful for—to reflect on what you reverence?

When I was a child we prayed at the table before each meal, acknowledging gratitude for the gift of food and those who had made it possible. I was taught the practice of kneeling beside my bed at night and saying a prayer. I would list the things that I liked about the day. I listed the people who had been part of my day. I named the things that I thought were good. When I was older I gave up the kneeling, but not the practice of nightly thanking the source of life for the gift of life.

It sometimes seems that there is much to stress us in our world today. Even if we are not addicted to the news feeds on TV, Computer, Tablet, Phone, Facebook, we can’t help but catch headlines that keep us exposed to difficult and painful events in the lives of individuals and the world. That can have a way of absorbing us and creating deep anxiety and stress.

That’s why I think we all need some regular place to go and think about what we are grateful for. Where do you go to be mindful of all the incredible gifts of your life?

IS THERE A WAY TO PEACE?

IS THERE A WAY TO PEACE?

Wars will go on as long as memory is not modified by forgiveness. 

In his book, “In Praise of Forgetting” American journalist David Rieff tells of his visit with a Serbian politician in 1993.  As he was leaving the interview one of the politicians assistants pressed a piece of paper in his and it was blank except for the date: 1453. This is the year that Orthodox Constantinople was defeated by the Muslim Ottomans. The implication was that the 20th century war in the Balkans was rooted in the wounds inflicted centuries earlier.

We know from the news how centuries-old conflicts are continuing to play out in the Middle East, Rwanda, the Ukraine, and many other places. Mr Rieff suggests in his book that it is the memory of the victims of ancient wars that feed the fires of conflicts today.  He also suggests that the way to move forward with harmony is to learn to forget the violence of the past.

But, I find that forgetting the past, while it is helpful (we would lose our minds if they were filled with all the memories of thing that had happened), it is not easy to do. Life lived lingers within the heart, the bones, the mind. Both blessing and curse gets lodged in the soul. And to forget what has happened in the past is to forget what has shaped our identity—what has influenced our self-understanding.

For this reason, I don’t think forgetting is the best strategy for finding harmony in the future. I believe that forgiving is a more helpful way of getting out of the vicious cycle of revenge. Forgiving another is not forgetting what has happened. It is freedom from the need to be controlled by what has happened. It is freedom to act in a way that can create a future where people who were once enemies might become companions in the shaping of a better world for each. Our memories must be modified by a forgiving spirit if we are to discover hope for a safer world for our children.

I live with the hope that the world will find a way to forgive.

COURAGE AND FEAR

I recently read one of those books that is hard to read—but worth it. It wasn’t hard to read because of the way it was written, but because of the topic. “Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End” (Atul Gawande) is a sensitive doctor’s perspective on the issues that arise in aging in America.

In this book, Dr. Gawande suggests that “at least 2 kinds of courage are required in aging and sickness. The first is the courage to confront the reality of mortality—the courage to seek out the truth of what is to be feared and what is to be hoped. Such courage is difficult enough. We have many reasons to shrink from it. But even more daunting is the second kind of courage—the courage to act on the truth we find. The problem is that the wise course is so frequently unclear. For a long while, I thought that this was simply because of uncertainty. When it is hard to know what will happen, it is hard to know what to do. But the challenge, I have come to see, is more fundamental than that. One has to decide whether one’s fears or one’s hopes are what should matter most.” (232)

As I consider the struggles of aging, I am aware that fear has significant power. In fact, when I think about the lives of most people, fear can be a fundamental driving force. We fear for our jobs, our children’s  well-being, our parents’ health. We fear that the political decisions of a few will make life worse for the many. We fear for the safety of the planet. There are many things to fear and that fear can paralyze us.

But courage is deciding that, in the midst of uncertainty, hope matters more than fear. Courage is looking at the reality and realizing that there is risk. But rather than giving into fear, we have to decide that we will act on what we hope and love. We can choose to act to realize the hope that makes life good rather than to cower in fear of what might happen. Living that way may bring more joy to our days.

HEART TEST

Sun is shining. Cool spring air embraces me. Suddenly sirens all around. “Oh, it’s Friday at 11 a.m. A weekly test of the tornado alert system.”

This is what Sunday worship is for me. A weekly test. It is a heart check. To determine its strength so I can count on it in stormy weather.  This isn’t the heart test several of my friends have taken—getting numbers to indicate heart disease. It is a test to of my courage—my heart’s capacity to do what I believe.

We do four things to test our courage in worship. First we gather with all. We greet friends. We meet strangers. We run into enemies. But we are all there—those who nourish us and those who threaten us. And I gather with them to see if I have the heart to welcome into my life all the creatures created by the divine hand. Sometimes I pass. Too often I balk at the presence of all.

And when we worship, we also listen. We listen to words from tradition, words from the world, words from the hearts of others on the journey of discovery.  And we test our ears. Can we listen well enough to hear a divine word in the words we hear? If so, maybe we can hear the divine spirit in the words we hear everyday. After all, the divine pulses through creation. Do I have the patience to hear? Sometimes I do, but often I don’t take time to listen for love in the others’ voice.

The third test of courage comes when worship calls us to make an offering. How generous is my heart? We come together to practice giving. Do I have the courage to sacrifice what I value for the greater value of divine love and justice in my world. Do I have the heart to risk some of my time and money for the well-being of others.  Sometimes I do. Often I hold back.

And the final test of Sunday worship challenges my resolve. We are sent from worship to be a presence of peace, a champion for the outcast. Do I have the courage, the heart to live my life daily as a loving companion for those around me? I have done that.  And at times I have not.

It is a good thing to test the tornado alert system in our city. Likewise, it is good for me to worship each Sunday to test my courage to live my faith well.