MOVING BEYOND THE PAIN

[This post is the first in a series of devotions on forgiveness that I first published last year in a leaders' devotional booklet, "Disciplines" from The Upper Room. This is based on the parable of the prodigal that is found in Luke 15:1-3 & 11-19]

Parables are pluralistic.  They are like Mexican pinatas.  Filled with treasures, they are prodded and poked.  When they break open, they contain treasures.  The gifts are diverse and appeal to different tastes and interests. Consequently they are always old and ever new because the one who hears is ever changing and is always in a different place.

One of the treasures of this parable is it’s revelation of disappointment and loss.  The father in charge of the family had a plan.  But, the son who asked for his inheritance early (thus implying that his father had already died to him) threw a monkey wrench in that plan.  His son had a different idea about how life was to turn out.  This would be deeply disappointing to the father. 

This disappointment is not unlike our experiences.  Our dreams and plans are good, but often they don’t work out.  Change seems to be stalking the edges of our life’s designs.  Our hard work to secure a future that we want is often rewarded with disappointment and grief.  Change is the one constant that we can count on in life so loss is the consistent reality.

This reality often burdens our moving forward into the future.  The father in the parable was undoubtedly saddened and struggled to stay on an even keel.  His dreams were shattered  as his heart was broken by his son’s leaving.  

We too experience such loss and grief in our lives.  We are disappointed when life doesn’t turn out the way we think it should.  Moving beyond the pain of the losses of the past requires that we open ourselves to the forgiving spirit of God’s love.  If we cannot grieve the losses and accept the freeing forgiveness for the future, the weight of that ungrieved loss will break us.  What loss do you need to name and grieve?

Hear my pain, O God, and give me courage to face my disappointment.

LIMITED PERSPECTIVE

Community creates insights. I recently shared in conversation with a group about the issue of forgiveness. As all conversations, this one wandered and was wide ranging. 

One of the men suggested that one of our problems as humans is that we make judgements about each other on too little data. He talked of how rich an experience it was when people in a group were asked to tell stories of their lives. His initial perception of them was radically altered when he heard more of the story of their lives.

I remember struggling with a colleague for several years. I was then on a retreat when he was asked to share his spiritual journey. He told of his childhood, his father who was severe in his judgment of him.  He talked of his struggle to overcome the model that he had witnessed. He talked of the animating energies and his struggles with his own demons. As I listened, my heart softened and beyond that retreat, I was able to relate in a way that was healthier and more grace-filled.

Sometimes we are so committed to our perception of people that was formed at one point or another when we could only see a little of who they were. Maybe if we don't lock ourselves into those perceptions and stay curious about the larger mystery that they are, we would discover persons whom we could care for and relate to more gracefully.

I don't know about you but I hate to be judged on the basis of what I do at one or two points in my life. I want to be seen and known for the self that has lived, loved, screwed up, been forgiven, make mistakes, offered grace, received grace, been weak and wounded, been strong and capable.  When I remember that I want to be seen this way, I can more likely allow myself to see others that way.

I am grateful for what I learn in community.

SUCH A LITTLE LIFE

One of the problems with the future is that it does not exist. It exists only in our imaginations. The future is an empty space. We fill it with our imaginations. The future is what we think it is in our minds.  When the future comes, it no longer exists.  It has become the present. It is no longer empty space with images of what we think, but it is what is actually happening.

What we imagine may not become real in the present. Imagination and what materializes do not always match. But what does happen is that what we imagine about the future has a significant influence how we live in the present. What we think the future holds will pretty well determine what we do with our time today.

So, our real question about the future is, "What do we fill that empty space with?"  

One thing we fill the future with is scary images. We create horror stories. What can go wrong? What can happen to hurt us? What will my children do that will be dangerous? What will happen to the economy?  We can "awfulize" the future.  This helps us by alerting us to dangers. We do this to protect ourselves from unpleasant surprises. The ability to imagine unpleasant eventualities keeps us on our toes.

But, to live there is to live in constant fear. To fill the empty uncertain future with thing that threaten us and scare us leads us to hide from life. Or, as Shirley Valentine said in the movie of that same name, "I've lived such a little life." Living in fear shrinks our lives.

Since the future is empty and we can fill it with our imagination, what would happen if we filled it with images of blessing and goodness?  What if we leaned into that space with the courage to love and embrace what shows up in that space? What if we expected life to offer us grace rather than judgment?

Well, we can be sure to be disappointed. For when we imagine good it might not happen. But, imagining good opens the eyes to seeing it. Imaging shapes what we look for.  It might contribute to the good actually materializing. To imagine life as an adventure of discovery opens us to "live large."

I don't know how tomorrow will turn out. But, I do know that the images I project into the empty space of the future can help me live with more or less fear. And I do know that love has power to, if not eliminate fear, at least put it in it's place. 

WORRYWART

When I was growing up, it was said this way: "Don't be a worry wart!!".  Jesus said, "Don't worry about tomorrow. . . ."  And he said, "Don't worry about your life, what you shall eat or drink, . . . " My experience tells me that this is easier said than done. Worrying seems to be a natural part of our mortal existence in a changing world.

Adam Phillips, in his book "On Kissing, Tickling and Being Bored: Psychoanalytic Essays on the Unexamined Life" writes that the word "worry" comes from a word that means to kill by strangulation.  It referred to what a dog did when it caught it's prey. In some sense, that illumines the our experience of worry. We latch onto a thought or an idea and we try to consume it.  We try to take it apart so we can take it into our minds and digest it.

The word has come to mean not only what we do but what is done to us. We not only worry about things, but things worry us. It is as if we are trying to simplify something enough that we can digest it and integrate it into our life, or that we are overcome by something and trying to take it apart to make sense of it.

I have never figured out how to not worry. When things happen that cause me to wonder about myself and my future, I have to spend time thinking about it. I envy those who have "worry beads" because it seems that at least the fingering of the beads gives a sense of order and sequence to thoughts that are more generally chaotic and disorganized.

So, I don't advise people not to worry. That is almost like telling people not to breathe. But, I do suggest that the unknown future and the feelings of fear that they evoke are worth pondering. I think it is human to engage in "soulful wrestling" with the principalities and powers that seem to live within us and around us. And it seems to me that this is what prayer is: soulful wrestling.

But, there needs to be margins around our worrying, our pondering. There needs to be times when we move forward in our living, not swallowed by our worries. To be consumed by worry sucks energy from living our lives and loving that which around us. Take time to pray or ponder but don't let it steal all your energy for living.

VAST SPACE

Sometimes when things stop being the way they were, empty space opens up for things to be what they are becoming.

A recent fascinating documentary explored the life of Stephen Hawking, theoretical physicist and cosmologist. At an early age he was diagnosed with ALS, a degenerative nerve disease that completely disables and is usually fatal.  He was told that he would live only 2 or three more years.  

But, now, at 72, he is one of the greatest physicists of all time. As his body deteriorated through the years, Mr. Hawking explored the origins of the universe and mathematically proved the "Big Bang" theory of creation. He studied "black holes" and has contributed to quantum leaps in scientific insight into the expanding cathedral of the universe.

Mr Hawking's ability to speak became so bad that he had to have someone interpret for him.  Then, in 1985, he nearly died with pneumonia but when he recovered from a coma, he lost all ability to speak.  Because he could only move a muscle in his cheek, he was outfitted with a computer device that enabled him to move a curser on a computer and construct words at the rate of 15 words per minute.

He said that, as a result of being unable to speak, he spent more and more time in his mind, exploring the expansive questions of the universe and how it works.  Many of his theories have developed in that empty space where once  his voice existed. After the loss of his voice, he finished his most popular work, A Brief History of Time, that has sold over 10 million copies.

Most of us will never be famous and contribute to the world's self-knowledge the way Mr. Hawking does. But, I know that empty space can be a nest for unthought insights to be birthed. Our anxiety about empty spaces often prevent our making new discoveries. But, if we can moderate our fear and wander around in that space, we may discover insights that had eluded us and courage to try something new that we never had time to do when all the space was filled.