BECOMING GENUINE DAILY

"Divulge"

"Few delights can equal the mere presence of one whom we trust utterly."
--George MacDonald

"Seek not to understand that you may believe, but believe that you may understand."
--St. Augustine

I began jogging last November and spent my time running laps around the local park.  I started taking notice of the regulars and watching the children smile on the swings.  The trees provided periodic shade and the lull of the adjacent creek calmed my spirit.  But I started becoming bored.  The track is a circle and I inevitably returned to the starting point.  The scent of change beckoned and I decided to answer.  I decided to turn my attention to the city that surrounds me.  New routes emerged and a deeper appreciation for the scenery captured my vision.  Approximately ninety percent of the routes consist of sidewalks.  Humility lives in the ten.  In the ten is the highway and in the ten is additional trust I must exercise, the trust drivers will keep the eyes on the road, trust they will note my presence.

"Meet the Parents" (2000) comes to mind as I think about trust, a film about a male nurse whose deeply in love.  After Greg (portrayed by Ben Stiller) meets Pam's parents for the first time, they convene in the living room.  Pam's father Jack (Robert De Niro) reveals his business venture and hands a teddy bear to Greg.  Beginning a conversation on leaving the children with a babysitter, he asks, "Can you really trust another human being, Greg?"  Pausing, Greg replies, "Yeah, I think so."  With a look of displeasure, Jack firmly states, "No. The answer is you cannot."  Ironically, the film revolves around Greg's efforts to establish a working trust with Jack, even lying to earn his approval and, in time, his blessing to marry Pam.  But Jack's response continues to linger in my mind.  The ramifications of this statement are equally important.

For many, fully trusting everyone is not possible.  But the willing move past this statement and live in hope confiding in another will not be breached.  Trust is easy to give, difficult to restore.  Children, for instance, continuously strive to earn a parent's trust.  But when it is violated, restoration becomes timely and costly.  In the Scriptures, a Hebrew word for trust is chacah and means "confide in."  I have chacah in God, but hesitations arise from time to time; the honest and vulnerable will validate this statement and affirm it too.  A belief in one who is without physical features is vexing at times; however, the attentive look closer for his imprints.  I firmly believe God is both visible and hidden.  And with this belief, I reveal my insecurities, fears, dreams, doubts and musings to him.  What happens from here though?

The Scriptures continually reveal man's belief in God, a trust, an expectation he will provide, heal, restore.  But pausing a moment and arranging the aforementioned statement, a revised and inspiring thought appears: God believes in humanity.  He believes that men and women, while capable of pain and hatred, are capable of peace and love.  Based on the headlines, this thought seems like a pipe-dream, the wish of the naive and ignorant.  The determined are not sidelined by acts of ugliness though; they press forward and gradually peel away the film of reality, unearthing the kingdom beneath.  Consider this simple story: a young girl, distraught over the world's problems, cries out to God, stating, "Why do heartaches still exist God?  Will you please take action?"  God whispers in a quiet voice, "I did, I made you."  Like the parents of a child watching him connect the bat with the ball, strength and determination arise in knowing another believes in one's ability to create change, to stay the course, to succeed.

Jesus further underscores this thought with healings.  Numerous people approach him with physical ailments.  Each believe in his ability to bring restoration, wholeness.  And when the infirmity is gone, the belief of the healed further increases.  But Jesus downplays what he has done, constantly telling the cured, "Your faith has healed you."  He believes in the belief of the willing and points it out for others to see.  And as his popularity spreads, he watches the actions of others he has empowered, hoping they follow through.  And when they fail, Jesus becomes agitated, vexed at the lack of ability.  Perhaps God sees humanity this way, curious, puzzled with the waiting, quietly stating, "The kingdom is right here, right now.  Seek it and unearth it.  Bring goodness and love to others."  In fact, simple moments are powerful moments.  In January, a man with a seizure fell backward on to the subway tracks in Manhattan.  Wesley Autrey, a construction worker, asked a woman standing next to him to watch his two daughters.  He jumped into the tracks and pulled the man between them as the subway train roared overhead.  Both walked away with minor bruising.  Autrey is now known as the Subway Superman and his motto is simple: "If you see something, do something."

It seems to me that trusting God is simpler than trusting men and women.  Knowing deep and guarded thoughts fall into the air and rise to the stars is liberating.  But having the courage to share the same thoughts with close friends may require deeper strength, deeper discipline.  Because unfortunately, many people today have few friends, relationships forged from childhood that continue to thrive.  Consider the distinction between "friends" and "acquaintances" on MySpace (should you have an account).  How many names in the friend list will be there for you at any moment?  I believe men and women have one to five people at most they will fully bare the mind to.  Why?  The practice of unloading baggage and finding relief can be a painful process at times.  What's more, I continually discover that maintaining the relationships with close friends requires strong effort.  With hectic schedules and competing priorities always in motion, phone calls and gatherings fall into the cracks.  The passive response is hoping the other person will call; taking charge and punching the numbers is the mark of the attentive.

The writer of Hebrews, still disputed, spends an entire chapter on trust in God, what he deems "faith".  And trust in what is unseen is inherently a paradox.  The author captures this thought well, writing, "Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."  How can one be certain of the unseen?  I don't know, but I am certain God exists and imprints of his image are available everywhere.  During the Middle Ages, deep questions about life were unanswered...mystery filled the air and questions reigned.  As time unfolded and the Enlightenment emerged, reason began to explain the origins of life, the nature of man, the importance of science.  The mystery was stripped away, but I see its resurgence once again and I like responding to philosophical questions this way: "I don't know."  Lifehouse put it best in the chorus of a song, aptly entitled "Unknown": "See I know, the don't know, keeps me hanging on to you."  Here's to not having all the answers.

"Ante"

"A gambler is nothing but a man who makes his living out of hope." 
--William Bolitho

"Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to." 
--George Seaton

Since college football doesn't return until September, I thumb through the ESPN lineup from time to time, pausing to focus on unique sports.  Volleyball, billiards, angling, and drag racing immediately come to mind.  And while the media attention may seem less, the competition is equally strong.  I have recently noticed the emergence of another activity: poker.  Incidentally, poker is not new.  In fact, the World Series of Poker began in 1970.  The ability to play poker via the web and the continued television coverage of tournaments further increase the visibility of this wildly popular card game.  Champions are attaining celebrity status and qualifiers are constantly taking place across the nation.  I sporadically get together with a handful of close friends and engage in this addicting pastime.  What enamors me is how quickly the stakes change.  I have won hands and I have lost hands.  I have held the majority of chips and lost them all with one card.  The tumultuous spirit of poker is captured in its foundation, the core of its existence, the action of each player: gambling.

Fear and excitement collide in the gamble, the anticipation of what can come, the fear of what can be lost.  Competitors know that preparation is vital, but understand winning and losing hinge on one turn of the card.  Notice the word that underscores gambling: uncertainty.  The outcome is not clear, but it appears to me that participants play like it is.  While this statement seems contradictory, the idea continues to exist through dialogue and debate.  I recently finished a book about Blaise Pascal, the noted French mathematician, physician, and philosopher.   Pascal never finished his final work, entitled Pensees (Thoughts).  But these notes continue to live on and are truly a collection of brilliant insights into the mind, the spirit, the nature of man.  Pascal was also a student of Jesus and held that science and belief in the unknown are not mutually exclusive.  In fact, he argued that as one begins to ponder the existence of God, the act of living is revealed as a wager, a bet, a gamble.

Pascal's Wager, as it is commonly known, is a strategy for living, an approach to life.  In terms of God, the subject at hand, the question naturally arises...does he exist?  Yes or no?  Reason cannot be the guiding factor as concrete proof does not exist for the skeptic or the theist (one who believes in God).  Pascal captures this statement best, writing, "Infinite chaos separates us.  At the far end of this infinite distance, a coin is being spun which will come down heads or tails.  How will you wager?  Reason cannot make you choose either, reason cannot prove either wrong."  The rational theist looks for evidence of God's presence in the world and also understands the withstanding power of direct experience.  But the theist also understands the importance of this statement: there is no middle ground.  And this reveals the wager...everyone is betting on the existence or absence of God by the way they live.

Those who fully believe in God seek his will, look for the evidence of his presence, and strive to live by his teaching.  Those who don't believe in God tend to ignore spiritual practices, activities.  Gamblers bet with the expectation of payoff, the anticipation of strong earnings.  Costs exist too, the money placed on the table.  Benefits and costs exist for both the skeptic and the theist; many skeptics think theists and followers of Jesus are arrogant and falsely hold the supreme and final revelation of God.  Theists think the skeptics are arrogant in the belief that self-sufficiency is a sound practice and life completely stops with death.  Suppose the final card of life is turned and the benefits are divvied up.  What is the benefit of not believing in God?  Discovering one is right, that life does not continue after death?  Perhaps it is knowing that he or she lived a lifestyle fit for his or her own ends, desires, dreams.  For the theist, betting on God's existence is the completion of his or her hope, knowing the spirit lives in communion with God for all time. 

Lastly, for the sake of argument, suppose each is wrong.  For the theist, consider the words of author Thomas Morris: "For if there is no God and no existence beyond the moment of death, he [or she] can never have an experience beyond death that will disappoint."  For the skeptic, no satisfaction exists.  In fact, the Scriptures reveal judgment and lament.  Many think those who come to this reality are doomed to a literal hell. I think that if the skeptic is wrong, his spirit is unable to commune with God for eternity--perhaps this is a clearer idea of what hell actually is.  Pascal believes the rational gambler will bet on God's existence.  Followers of Jesus "bet" with a word repeatedly revealed in the Scriptures: "faith".  Faith is often sized up with the sentence "believing without seeing."  But a better translation exists.

One Greek word for faith is elpis and means "expectation" or "hope".  Other synonyms for faith in the Scriptures are trust, fidelity, and steadiness.  "Orientation" is another word that comes to mind and aligns well with Pascal's idea.  Wagering on God is a life forged through this belief, orienting one's self toward him through prayer, meditation, benevolence, service to others, forgiveness.  Oddly enough, doubt also lives in belief.  And while many believe it has no place in spiritual formation, it continues to exist.  God makes a promise to both the skeptic and the theist though, an inclusive invitation: "You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."  Will there be hesitations on the way?  Without question.  Mark writes about a father who seeks out Jesus, hoping he "can do anything" to help his son.  Jesus tells him that he can help if the man will believe.  The father responds, "I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief."

The honest will admit the words of the father resonate with them.  Spiritual growth continues through life.  And incidentally, poker provides a strong analogy.  The willing follow Jesus and desire to be like him, to model his teachings, his words, his actions.  They are choosing to wager on God.  Morris writes, "A person making this wager with his or her life will also have a transcendent focus and source of psychological comfort in this world of turmoil and pain."  This "psychological comfort" is hope, the anticipation of restoration, the revelation of God's kingdom right here, right now.  I have seen its existence and continue to watch others discover it as well.  I'm not sure about you, but my bet has been placed, my chips are out of my hands, and I am excited about what lies ahead.  I'm all in.

References:

Morris, Thomas V. Making Sense of it All: Pascal and the Meaning of Life. 
Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1992.

"But"

"The stupid neither forgive nor forget; the naive forgive and forget; the wise forgive but do not forget."
--Thomas Szasz

"I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice."
--Abraham Lincoln

Apologies have been muttered numerous times over the past year: Mel Gibson, for his callous remarks against the Jewish community; Don Imus, for insulting the lady Rutgers basketball team; Michael Richards, for lambasting hecklers during a comedy show.  Each have issued statements and apologized publicly for his transgression.  And although a handful may continue to bear a grudge, the majority of the public has moved on.  Unfortunately, forgiveness is not this simple.  Human relationships are complex and forged through reciprocation, a give-and-take dynamic.  In other words, men and women give with the expectation of return.  Benevolence falls by the wayside as an egocentric character emerges.

Thankfully, many are choosing to part ways with this pattern.  I discovered this recently through the 1998 film "Les Miserables," Victor Hugo's riveting novel on redemption.  Liam Neeson vividly portrays Jean Valjean, the convict turned mayor.  A simple encounter with mercy through a humble bishop in the film's opening scene revises the direction of Valjean's life.  In turn, he continually exhibits this virtue, unwilling to disregard the plea of the downtrodden.  But like everyone, his past follows him.  For Valjean, his past is literally steps behind.  Javert, the police inspector, pursues Valjean without cessation, consumed with law, justice, reason, vigilance.  During a conversation with Valjean, Javert states, "Reform is a discredited fantasy."  But Valjean knows otherwise and is unwilling to let hate consume him.  As the film drew to a close, I pondered Javert and questioned whether forgiveness rested in his heart.  It did.  Javert discovered mercy and its ability to trump reason.  And Valjean walked home with peace and a humble smile.

Forgiveness is a vexing practice.  And like apologies, they can be half-hearted, a hollow expression of sincerity.  Forgiveness of this kind facilitates bitterness, a state of mind unwilling to release the injuries of another.  In turn, the soul is darkened and the wronged live in distrust of others authentic acts of generosity.  The antithesis of forgiveness is complete reconciliation.  Paradoxically, the wronged still live with the memory of the perpetrator's action.  In time, it may slip from memory.  But subtle signals quickly bring its return--a song, a book, a film, a smell, a dream, the offender.  Feelings of anger, betrayal, depression, and shock return as well.  The wrong has been forgiven, but the memory continues to live on.

A good friend captures this moment retelling a story.  He walked across the stage with a backpack full of rocks and commented on a story many know well.  In this story Jesus tells, a woman is brought before him, a woman who committed adultery moments ago.  Films about Jesus with this scene portray the woman fully clothed.  But I have pondered whether her accusers brought her before Jesus without dress.  While this thought may seem irrelevant, suppose she was brought through the city for all to see.  The people recognize her face and begin to make comments to one another, shocked at her lack of restraint.  Dropped before Jesus, her head hangs as tears trickle down her cheeks.  She is ashamed, dishonored by the community.  The Torah states that those caught in adultery must be put to death.  The teachers of this law stand behind the woman, rocks in hand, eager to stone her.  Through research and conversations with others, I have discovered stoning is accomplished by placing the condemned in a large hole and dropping sizable boulders.  Jesus begins writing in the hand, perhaps the shortcomings of the accusers, stating, "If you have never broken the law you ascribe to, throw your rocks."  The teachers begin to drop their rocks and walk away.  He helps the woman up and forgives her offense.

Society is defined by judgment.  Humans compare themselves to one another, continually pointing out differences, sizing others up in microseconds by automobiles, clothing, and wallets.  But behind this comparison is judgment.  Every one is quick to point out the mistake of another, unaware a backpack of "rocks" is strapped to the shoulder, ammunition waiting to be unloaded.  But God invites the willing to drop their stones.  James, a brother of Jesus, poignantly captures this thought as he writes, "Judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful."  Mercy is a shocking response to the offender and attempting to understand the kindness beneath it through logic is a futile exercise.  Consider God's perception of humanity.  There are many who believe him to be wholly good and fully knowledgeable of all human activity.  Accordingly, he is aware of all evil actions, all virtuous actions.  And his bag of rocks is sizable; in fact, this bag contains many stones each denoting acts of ugliness--all for one person. 

Every person has inscribed rocks in God's knapsack.  But unlike man, he is unique, distinct, special.  Completely aware of the faults of all men and women, he chooses not to cast his rocks.  Perhaps this is the clearest portrait of mercy.  He is justified turning his back on humanity, but is unwilling to do so.  Personally, I may spend the rest of my life trying to understand this decision, this dynamic, this love.  It is a decision that defies reason in every way.  From time to time, I hear this statement concerning truth: "Accept it and move on."  I have processed mercy mentally and know its definition, its origin, its synonyms.  But understanding this precept spiritually comes through receiving it and showing it.

I have discovered the story of Israel, the story of man, the story of life, hinges on one word: "but."  This three letter word is indicative of change, always the representation of a turning point, for better or worse.  St. Paul writes, "But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive..."  In third grade, I was introduced to "Schoolhouse Rock!" for the first time.  This series of short educational films featured memorable songs on grammar, the Presidents, science, history and math.  Incidentally, the only film I can recall discusses grammar and poses this question repeatedly through song: "Conjunction Junction, what's your function?"  The film reveals this answer: "Hooking up words and phrases and clauses."  As I reflect further on this three letter word previously mentioned, the question arises again: "Conjunction Junction, what's your function?"  Forgiveness.