Category: Success

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Dynamically Static.

     A book was just recently published about tough questions kids ask about Christianity. During an interview about the book, the author spoke on how he wanted to help parents not have a “deer in the headlights” look when their kids asked something and they didn’t know the answer. He rushed to say that no one has all the answers, but we should be willing to find the answers with our children.
     I think the entire premise of this book is what is wrong with Christianity today. The book, due to its format, is a static description of what we think the answers are at this moment in our history and culture. While there may be some absolutes (see: “Just Love”) that we should all agree on, there was a time when some of the principles we see as bedrock now, were absolute rubbish; and vice versa. Christ illustrated this throughout scripture when he condemned the pompous and proud Pharisees. They were so sure they had all the answers, they were no longer willing to be wrong. Their answers had become their god, so God could no longer be their answer.
     An alternative to static, rigid, unchanging answers is that, instead, we teach process. However, this manner of education is a double edged sword and we must be aware of this as we wield it. What I suggest is that we discover what the core process(es) of Scripture are. According to Scripture, loving the Lord your God with all your heart, mind, soul, and strength is the greatest commandment, and the second is like it; love your neighbor as yourself. For all the laws and prophets hinge upon those two commands. Both of those commands hinge on our ability to love. That seems to assume that we should be figuring out what it means to love and how we know when we are being loving. In other words: What do we do and how do we know we’re doing it?
     The laws of Scripture have never been, nor will they ever be, the path to salvation. Scripture says this, not me (Rom. 8:3-6). The process that is at the core of Scripture is to love. If this is the case, then when our children ask about the Trinity, the covenant, politics, abortion, gay marriage, or anything else, why not join them in discovering what the most loving thing is? In order to do this, however, we must be honest with ourselves and brace for the day when we follow this process and it leads us to doubt what we believe to be right or wrong.
     My parents generation fought against racism. Their parents fought against sexism. Their grandparents fought to against slavery. Our generation is fighting for equality. But here’s the thing, and it’s something we must not forget as we age: Each generation thought the previous was backward and needed to change. Each generation thought they were right. And each generation, for the most part, thought the one that came after them was forgetting their values. When we begin to walk this path with ourselves, our children, our parents, we may not always like where it takes us. But if we spend the time to discover what it really means to be loving (something I’ll talk about in my next post), and judge our actions by that standard, we will begin to live out the lives and actions to which Christ called us.  
     What do you think? Is it better to have “the answer” and tell our children what is right, or should we take the chance of them coming to the “wrong” conclusions and being mislead? There are risks to either choice, so which risk is the most severe?
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Just Love.

   What hill am I willing to die on? This is an important question, and one everyone should know. For every aspect of our existence, in each phase, we will have to fight some battles. Deciding which ones are worth fighting is often more important than how many battles we win. Even if someone had an adequate amount of resources and energy to fight every battle, they would eventually run out of time. And, more likely than not, they would run out of ground (i.e., they would be on the morally wrong side of at least a few of the battles). This leads us to learn how to prioritize; figure out what matters and why. In my own life this has not always been easy. I am often overwhelmed by the moment and lose sight of context. However, an attempt at increasing personal awareness of our own priorities should be done at frequent intervals, otherwise, we may forget what is important.

      This week I read John 15:17. It quotes Jesus saying, “This is my command: Love each other” (NIV). When Christ was put in the position to summarize all of Scripture and God’s desire for our lives, he summed it up in three words: “Love each other”. That was, quite literally, the hill he died on. I will not often get into theological issues on this blog because I want it to be as inclusive as possible and, for many people, any theological statement becomes one they want to die on. I’m not interested in that. What I am interested in is my own hill. For me, the hill I am willing to die is “Love each other”.
     What I am discovering is this: love is very difficult. Trying to decipher what the most loving action or intent is in any given situation quickly reveals how limited my scope of awareness is. I am certain that I will be a failure at loving everyone. I am equally as certain that I will still try. What would it mean if you joined me?

 
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Not me, nor I

    “So modern man was set up in an undeclared war upon himself. ‘Conquering ourselves’ of the Victorian nineteenth century became ‘manipulating ourselves’ in the twentieth. The human dilemma of subject relating to object…became perverted into the subject, ‘I’, exploiting the rest of myself, the impersonal object ‘It’. This sets up a vicious circle — one of the outcomes of which is the overflowing of our psychological clinics. The vicious circle can find relief, so long as it remains within this deteriorated form of the dilemma, only in the diminishing of the subject, that is, the reduction of consciousness. But alas! we cannot in the long run expect healing to come from applying more of the same disease we seek to cure.” ~ Rollo May, Psychology and the Human Dilemma (1996, p. 79)

     Read Huxley, Postman, Buber, Frankl, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche, Fromm, or a hundred other authors who focus on the existence of individuals in relation to themselves, and a theme will emerge. Primarily, I believe, this theme is ultimately one of fear. The distraction to the point of losing one’s self that May’s quote speaks about (above) is, on the surface, a form of denial. But the question that begs to be asked is this: What is it that I’m trying so hard to deny, i.e., what am I protecting myself from? The word “protect” implies threat, and the perception of a threat is met with fear.
     Denial is fear of reality. Pride is fear of powerlessness. Envy is fear of inadequacy. Gluttony is fear of poverty. Sloth is fear of failure. There may be room to disagree with me on the particulars, but the fact is this: Fear is ever present, it is only our awareness of the fear that wanes. One point I would like to be clear on is that I do not believe each of us is under a constant threat of loss or pain in some form or another. While the existence of potential for suffering is universal, the potential for joy is just as likely.
     Here’s the challenge: Find your fear, face it. If my struggle is pride, what would it mean to be powerless? If my struggle is enviousness, what would it mean to not have “it”? Am I gluttonous? What would it mean to give something away? Am I slothful? What would it mean to try and fail? If we begin asking these questions, with trusted friends and/or professionals we may discovery a bravery that we had forgotten long ago. Begin asking the question without being so concerned with the answer, and you may be pleasantly surprised at how enjoyable the challenge of fear can become.

copyright Perryscanlon.com
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The Crisis of Right Now.

     Religious or not, lessons can be learned from the Israelites. One instance that never sat well with me is their inability to have faith even when their God was sending food from heaven, guiding them by a column of fire, and sheltering them with a constant cloud. It’s not within the scope of this blog to get into the factuality or interpretation of Scripture. Even taken as an allegory or story, this is a beautiful lesson in habituation.
     For those of you not psychologically minded, let me explain: Habituation is the ability of an organism to get use to something. Things that were once not normal, become everyday. We habituate to our pay increase, how fast we’re going on the highway, and to the temperature of the water in the pool. Initially, these things may jar or startle us, but we acclimate to them and then ignore them. While there are limits, there is very little to which we cannot habituate. Habituation makes sense, otherwise we would walk around so constantly amazed at everything we wouldn’t be able to hold a job, a conversation, or consistent thought. We would constantly be aware of the clothes we have on, our scent, or our own heart beating. That’s no way to go through life. But just because we aren’t constantly aware of these things, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t pay attention to them at times. It just means that paying attention has to be intentional.
     This becomes especially important in the “crisis of right now”. If the “crisis of right now” overwhelms the accomplishments of “yesterdays then”, we may readily succumb to universal thinking and global assessments. The top phrase to demonstrate this has to be, “Nothing will ever change!” In those four words the entirety of all existence and time has been condemned to static nothingness. That’s fairly bold.
     The Israelites, in facing their “crisis of right now” neglected to remember the miracles of their “yesterdays then”. That God had showered them with food, protected them from the heat, brought forth water from rock, and guided them with fire, crumbled in their awareness of their immediate threat. They had become so habituated to the miraculous parts of their life, they failed to have hope. Whether those miracles really happened or not is beside the point.
     The point is this: How would I interact with my children differently if, amidst a tantrum, I was to stop and remember how I marveled at their birth? How would I interact with people differently if, amidst my frustration with them, I were to stop and remember the brevity of life? Perhaps, instead of stopping to smell the flowers, we should stop to remember the successes of “yesterday’s then” when overwhelmed with the crisis of “right now”.

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Wax On

     Karate Kid was an awesome movie. Not the new one, the one with Mr Miyagi. “Wax on; wax off. Left circle; right circle”. Daniel didn’t understand what sensei was teaching him at the time. He became frustrated, demanded that he wanted to learn karate, not how to paint and wax cars.
Several scenes later and Daniel is being attacked by the bullies! Unless they are accustomed to settling disputes via household chores, Daniel is done for! But then, something happens. Something unexpected by the audience, the bullies, and Daniel: he totally makes “left circle/wax off”, AND BLOCKS A PUNCH! Daniel’s short lived success gives way to surprise and doubt, and he gets beaten like a rented mule, but that doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because the encounter gave him the realization that while he had no clue what Miyagi was teaching him, it was working and he had to learn to trust those lessons regardless of the wrappers they came in.
      When learning more about ourselves through therapy, life, or a trusted friend, there is a process. Trust the process. Don’t allow surprise to sabotage your success. With parents, with friends, with isolation, and with our selves, let’s continue to practice what we’ve begun to learn, even if we don’t fully understand it.