Grasping Gifts

What do I do when I’m afraid of losing something? I grab onto it of course. When I grasp after my life I lose it. So I am told. This speaks to more than my own mortality and physical existence. My life is everything that encompasses my interests. My activities, my pursuits, my words, my sense of happiness; my people, my sensibilities. These are all my life. Now when I critically think about it, (I know you will too) I believe my life is actually mine. On any given day I plan and make decisions, execute them and most of them work out. I move and operate according to what makes me feel like I’m living how I want to live. Even when those plans don’t work out as I intend I am still under enough of my own power to move in a different direction and to counter events through my own agency. Over time, this brings into existence the illusion that my life is in my grasp, that “I am the master of my fate, the captain of my soul.”


Blessedly, events and other’s decisions often undermine this illusion. Sometimes subtly and over the course of time and sometimes drastic and abruptly. But always effective. When I’m in that process I’m usually not at a contemplative crossroads wondering at the question of control. Either I am fully aware of my “loss” of control, or I am in denial and continue to operate as though the helm were still firmly in my grasp. I’m standing on the bridge of a stricken vessel still calling the shots. It’s really quite funny. It’s like watching a mentally confused man march around like Napoleon–at the forefront his Grande Armée in conquest of the living room.

While funny, it’s also distressing and tragic. It’s so because always these are real events and real people caught up in them. And these events cause so much suffering. And while good has potential to spring from it, suffering is never itself good. As people of hope we must be cautious that we don’t begin to look on the cause itself as carrying goodness. It’s indefensible to champion suffering as something we wish upon ourselves, or others, especially. It brings about conditions ripe for potential, but the conditions are part and parcel of the ruptured and torn nature of our world. But I think I digress.

You’re probably wondering what, if at all, this has to do with gifts. Clearly I am trying to hold onto something that is not mine in the first place. If this life isn’t mine, then whose is it, and why have I been given responsibility of it even though I am not in charge? The answer I think is that it’s all a gift–the gift of the grace of life, as one put it so well years ago. The erosion of that mindset of control can bring about the attitude of gratefulness. Conversely the joy of receiving a gift is lost when gratefulness is absent. This is why those who live under the tyranny of being owed life are most unhappy with life.


I think the grasp itself is something to focus on. I even wonder if there is something satanic to it. I may control and possess someone, whether a best friend, sibling, a spouse, or a son or daughter. To possess another is not the same as receiving them as a gift. I believe the difference is far and wide because grasping drives us from each other. We lose our lives and we even lose each other. When I consider the truthful agony of living and dying alone, all in a grasp after life itself, it opens the door of a gift I too often take for granted–that of shared life; shared burdens, shared struggles and mutual victories.

I think we must choose to live life this way and welcome and offer our lives to each other, recognizing them as gifts that cannot be taken by force or possessed. The self is the best gift we can offer. Not our expertise or usefulness but our selves. If I can begin to operate under the presumption that all things are gifts–whatever situation, with whichever people, in any event–I may begin to appreciate and move to a love I had not experienced or lived before. If you are unwilling to let go of something, you should probably give it up before you lose it. Maybe you already have.


Productive Waiting

IMG_1787 2There was once a time when we waited. We endured and persevered because of its raw necessity. We were obliged to live in-between events whether or not they were pleasurable. We put on hold pressing matters in order to seek the company of a friend, and that was a sacrifice. We had to say goodbye and understand that time must expire before we would see their faces once again and enjoy the blessing of their smile and touch. To feel their presence. And we endured that time. We endured expectantly. We eagerly waited on letters for weeks, months, or sometimes in vain forever. We exercised patience and experienced the tension of expectation–not because it was easy, or natural, but because we had to. We had to cultivate waiting.IMG_1567

Expectancy magnifies the enjoyment of the occasion because it’s bittersweet. We realize the magnitude of a blessing because we endure its absence. When there’s no waiting the occasion is easily gained, and unless we’re careful, not fully valued. A bride and groom enjoy the occasion of their wedding night in part because they endure and grow during the time of waiting, the time of expectation. It is the meaning of “The journey, not the destination…”. The meaning of the destination is best realized when one endures the journey. That is why spoiled children do not enjoy simple gifts. That is why we cannot enjoy the simple presence of life, but constantly demand the extraction of experience. This explains so much of our world of commerce, social media, the ruse that we call relationship, the insatiable hunger for more.

Now we wait for nothing and despise the time we must wait. Sending and demanding messages instantaneously, we require satisfaction and dislike the strange tension that expectation brings. We sit falsely among each other, fingers desperately reaching for our phones: “Will someone text me? Do I have a notification? What if I miss a tweet?” This is not merely an annoying generational trend of immaturity, this is evidence of deep, profound poverty of spirit. The push is to go from one elated experience to another avoiding at all cost time in-between.

The perspective that refuses to cultivate and wait for anything is deadly. When we live in that perspective we are robbed of extraordinary joy. Intimacy? Friendship? Wealth? Who has time to wait for these? There is no time, I must grasp what I can with what little time I have. The Christian life is one of expectation. We live in a reality but we wait expectantly for that day of harmony, that day of infinite consumation. We yearn and long to see it, to know it, to live it. But we must wait. The in-betweens of life are as valuable as the moments they separate. They provide space for perspective and offer time for reflection. Keep on waiting, my friends.

Summits and Valleys

Maybe I’m just slow and should have seen this long ago. Maybe I’m cardinally guilty of the same thing, and perhaps it’s so prevalent that it’s difficult to feel out. We take in our experiences, our development as children, our parent’s words, and we fashion little idols out of them in the form of absolutes. Our brain actually fashions it’s own little reality.

Everybody comes across pieces and portions of truth along their lives, in learned sage advice, and even philosophical conclusions. And rather than treating them as the jewels of subtle significance that they are, they treat them as universal and communicable. As such, they’re cast in bronze and made out to be irrefutable. Most people, I think, live and think as though everything they know is utterly true to the utmost degree, and will always be so. There’s no margin for any error.

But what is amazing is the contrast between pessimistic and optimistic sentiments throughout a broad spectrum of generations. On the one hand we have those who cannot tolerate negative talk and who appear to refuse to see any downside to positivistic ideas. I hear it in music, in books, in the giddy smiles, and social media posts of those who seem to never have a valley in their walk of life–they’re always in the cloudy peaks. Life is beautiful to them, full of lovely surprise and purpose. A discourse which speaks otherwise is false to them. And they’re right.

Then there are those who seem to never know the mountaintops. They always bring things down, because after all, what goes up… They find idealistic talk irksome. They get blamed of negativity and being party-poopers. They’ve fallen so often from those heights that it has become dim and distant. Their actions and dreams which strive to those ideals become a victim to the blight and disfigurement of life. Anything which dissuades from this narrative is naive. And they’re right.

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Never are two people’s core outlook on life the same. But most focus either on the valleys or the peaks. They exalt the down-to-earth, realistic and even sorrowful times, or the optimistic, vibrant times. They fashion the season they find themselves in–or have known most poignantly–into a reality. Rarely do I find one inhabiting both. Truth be told I tend to operate in one or the other, depending on a dozen variables! Oscillating between one extreme or the other.

The truth is both are ridden with an element of fear. The pessimist hates the mountaintops and fears the awful fall from them while still longing and hoping for them. The optimist denies the existence or possibility of the valleys for fear of their reality. But as with most things the truth lies in the dialectical tension of both. I once said life is a love and grief, both overwhelming and unimaginable, and I think it rings true still. For better and worse we are disposed to fashioning things in totality.

Life is a fluid affair, and our rampant compartmentalization and division into the hierarchal and separate drives expanses of void between us, and in us. When we live on the summit or in the valley and ignore the other’s reality, we propel this condition. We work away from where we live and play, from those we love, not knowing or loving the ones we live with, and we die separated from everything we ever find familiar. We strive and exalt autonomy and self-sufficiency even when it’s togetherness and interdependence we long for. We don’t grow when we’re self-sufficient. Discord and non-understanding lives in those expanses: we bridge them with our exalted and absolutized experiences in order to make sense of what we live and give us hope to live better. But it’s not working. And we are growing apart and separate.

Bertrand Russell proposed a mindset to help avoid the pitfalls of this mistake. He described it as having a “high degree of intellectual culture without emotional atrophy”. We must be scrupulous in how we treat bits and pieces of truth and in what we integrate into our frame of thought and allow ourselves to believe. Because what we think drives how we live. But we mustn’t become robotic or clinical, because sometimes what is logical and sensible can be a lifeless vacuum void of love.

Dissonance and Harmony


It is amazing to me how many distractions and stimuli one encounters throughout a single day. Just to remain an active and vibrant participant in the world, one is assaulted on every level by demands from every corner. Nowhere in history have our attentions been in such demand. The requirement asked by this civilization is totalitarian, in that it demands the whole person and nothing less. It demands attention and obedience to things which aren’t in our best interest, and entice us to go after unsatisfying ideas.

Just consider the way we pursue the idea of happiness: from Covergirl to suburbia and the latest social media trends. Every day seeds are sown. And these seeds eventually come to fruition into ideas and concrete realities in our lives. The gluttony of Image–images of happiness, of wealth, of normalcy, of beauty, value and worth; images of relationship and what love is, what family is, of what man is, and what woman is–these images stimulate our minds, and spur our imaginations into pursuing ideas–and actions, consequently–which have nothing to do with reality. They really concern nothing but fleeting social phenomena–intangible spirits of the age of men.IMG_1854

Just look at how we live: expending our interests on people whom we’ve never met and who do not desire our relationship or friendship. We are always thinking about how powerful or attractive we look in comparison to others, others who are thinking the same thing about themselves. We settle for mediocrity because we’ve never experienced anything but the mediocre. We watch vines and Instagram videos and follow miserable people in Hollywood while we ourselves age and make steps toward death. We are spending more and more time concerned with our own comfort than with the next generation’s wellbeing. We are so worried about our own personal identities that we don’t know who it is we live amongst. Who are they? Do you know them? Get your eyes off yourself! We are sleepers in a fog, trudging onward in tragic dissonance, content to live in our personal ghettos.

Meanwhile unbounded, unexplored territory remains undiscovered. Relationships sit like ships in dry dock, in disrepair and abandon. Personal territory remains like buried treasure–always near the surface but never exposed to the light of day for it to glimmer. Human value everywhere is brimming, but we’re content to sit on our couch or to pursue our mediocre dreams. There is dissonance in the beauty of our words and ideas and the disaster and ugliness–the brutality–of their outworking. In Chekhov’s words, we live badly, my friends.

Are we surprised when people fail to and grow and thrive in this toxicity? Are we surprised at unhappy marriages and broken homes? Are we surprised by relationships marked by severe dysfunction and falseness? Are we surprised that men no longer want to grow up, or that women no longer want to attach themselves to these men? Further, how can we be surprised when this unhappiness, brokenness, dysfunction, and falseness breeds more of the same? Why are we surprised when, after all the in-depth studies have been analyzed, the books written, and the papers reviewed, that people are more miserable, lost and alone than ever before? Our world is a reflection of our inner lives and a consequence of where we have put our treasure. It is a reflection of our spiritual and intellectual health. Do an inventory of yours. Is it a ruin? Is it a declining urban sprawl? A thriving hamlet? A void and faceless suburban development?

fullsizeoutput_1bPursue excellence and things of worth. Build one another up in the same way you want. Help others grow and mature the same way in which you desire. I’m astounded how I forget so much on a daily basis and become distracted by non-sense and substitutions for life and relationship. We must think differently. It is simple but it is not easy. But If we invest into contrary ideas–ideas which cut to the marrow of life–we will not be satisfied with ourselves. We are too often satisfied, not in a content and peaceful sort of way, but in a lazy acceptance. The world pushes people to ‘love’ themselves and accept themselves for who they are as final and complete. ‘This is just who I am’. What drivel. If I truly love myself, I want myself to learn, to stretch and develop into someone who is better attuned to living. If one is living, one must be changing. And one does not change through running away.

However, the sort of development needed to grow doesn’t occur in a vacuum through the sheer force of will. True growth doesn’t occur naturally by default. And it cannot occur in isolation. It does not happen through reading a whole lot of cognitive self-help ideas. It happens when lives mix and mingle. A popular lie is that we must rid ourselves of any baggage and inhibiting responsibilities and grow ourselves–freely. ‘I just have to do what’s right for me’ becomes the mantra to absolve people from their responsibility to face their situation, their actions, and which shields them from the wake of destruction of their choices. There is no freedom in ignoring the responsibility of our choices, actions, and the resulting consequences on others.

So go out and explore this vast, unexplored territory. Take responsibility for it, and begin to love it. Van Gogh said, “what is done in love is done well”. Love–in the sense of agape–is fertile. You will begin to uproot and plant new seeds.



Oswald Chambers wrote some time ago, “The recognition of sin does not destroy the basis of friendship; it establishes a mutual regard for the fact that the basis of life is tragic. Always beware an estimate of life which does not recognize the fact that there is sin”.

We shouldn’t be surprised by sin. I am not saying that we avoid revealing its consequences, or of admitting that sin hurts. But the fact of its existence surprises most Christians, and that’s silly.  There is something repulsive about a narrative that is blind to the fact of what is. Exaggerated or naive positivism is a lie. Choosing to ignore what is does not immunize us from its consequential nature.

If we’re aware of our own sinfulness, we can extend grace toward others who sin against us. Once we accept reality, our eyes are opened fully to sheer wonder and terrifying beauty. Then we can turn back and, with bright eyes, extend a hand to the other.

Soaked Heads

The Church does not lack for information. We are not hungry souls emerging from the Dark Ages–yearning with the appetite for knowledge and education to feed our eager minds and hearts. Nah, we’re drowning in it. We’ve gorged ourselves on so much information, know-how, DIY’s, hacks, lectures, TED talks, and memes that we’re in serious need of a good vomit so we can evacuate the mind for real instruction.

In our enthusiasm with our ability to create and distribute huge amounts of information, we have assembled an array of isolated data so separated from each other that they have lost all meaning within the whole. Now we are merely an army of specialists who have no sense of where our fields of interest intersects with anything else. From here I will refer you to Clausewitz:

Thus it has come about that our theoretical and critical literature, instead of giving plain, straightforward arguments in which the author at least always knows what he is saying and the reader what he is reading, is crammed with jargon, ending at obscure crossroads where the author loses its readers. Sometimes these books are even worse: they are just hollow shells. The author himself no longer knows just what he is thinking and soothes himself with obscure ideas which would not satisfy him if expressed in plain speech.

I think perhaps we have moved to the opposite extreme: In Clausewitz’s day the literature tended to be gaseous and bombastic. No modern today would have the concentration to endure them. But we live in a reduction of ideas. Given the copious volume of information facing us, we must restrict it into bite-size chunks that we can easily digest. Now, either we repeat religious maxims–pithy statements–or preponderous theological constructs, which leave the listener more confused, as essential ideas become broken more and more into smaller, isolated incidents. We subsist off trite memes which only scratch at the surface of meaning and do not plunge into its depths. They act as a feather brushing across the mind and heart, inspiring a sense of knowledge, but without any actual effect. There is no intimate interaction in the mind; no wrestling, no struggle or compromise, no resolution. There is nothing to bring about a lasting change. It creates the impression of change because the listener has glimpsed something true. But he has not known it. The difference is far and wide.

Here’s a pretty picture to break up the text!


Education  is not information. Education and learning can only be accomplished in the context of relationship. It is probably the most inefficient way of developing a person’s understanding. Knowledge is only as useful as far as one is able and willing to communicate and relate it to others. The Church hasn’t lost influence through being wrong, but because it has lost its effectual voice. We must understand our times on every level, and be prepared to understand men and women when we meet them. We cannot steep our heads in scripture and spiritual influences and expect that we will be effective in a world we do not know.


In Genesis 1:28 we’re asked to go and cultivate a garden, “…Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth…”. It implies a wealth of further meaning. It suggests service, patience, attention, and a perspective for the future. Love is all of that and we can clearly see the love of that One who is full of patience and grace, and whose vision far outstrips our own. That One could demand satisfaction right now, in full. We would be in such poor state to do that. We cannot love God with perfection. And he does not demand that of us. Instead, he inters into time and place, approaching,  calling out, and into an attending relationship with us, teaching, filling us up, showing us who we really are and who he really is.

Contrast the process of love–long suffering, cultivation, care, sacrifice, dedication and faithfulness–with the perspective and dogma of sin: sin doesn’t have a long-term plan. It wants something, right now. Sin doesn’t have a goal beyond the self. It doesn’t want to cultivate, to care for, it doesn’t want to hope for the fruit of that relationship. It demands the fruit without faithfulness. But there is no fruit without love.


Daring and Danger

“Although our intellect always feels itself urged toward clearness and certainty, still our mind often feels itself attracted by uncertainty. Instead of threading its way with the understanding along the narrow path of philosophical investigations and logical conclusions, in order, almost unconscious of itself, to arrive in spaces where it feels itself a stranger, and where it seems to part from all well-known objects, it prefers to remain with the imagination in the realms of chance and luck. Instead of living yonder on poor necessity, it revels here in the wealth of possibilities; animated thereby, courage then takes wings to itself, and daring and danger make the element into which it launches itself as a fearless swimmer plunges into the stream.”

~Carl Von Clausewitz, On War. Vol. 1