BECOMING GENUINE DAILY

"Doze"

"The bed is a bundle of paradoxes: we go to it with reluctance, yet we quit it with regret; we make up our minds every night to leave it early, but we make up our bodies every morning to keep it late."
--Charles Caleb Colton

"A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow."
--Charlotte Bronte

I enjoy the conversations I have with other twentysomething's on Thursday evenings. I reflect in song, in teaching, in prayer, in contemplation. For numerous people, however, the dialogue continues in the next meeting spot: a restaurant. Lives are updated over food. I consistently receive this invitation, but usually decline. The logic is underscored by two reasons: sleep or budget. When I know money is no problem, I accept the invitation. But sleep is the recurring reply. I'm 26 and know this is the time to live by my schedule, live into the night. Oddly enough, this is not my focus. I love sleep. In fact, I emphasize this principle when the subject of slumber arises: sleep is highly underrated. Let me open the scene by way of context too. Until November 2007, I rested in a twin bed; with my move, I expanded space into the queen. And I released $700 for the mattress, the cornerstone of sound slumber. With each passing night, I recognize this reality: my feet are unable to touch the frame; I'm lost in pillows. Life is good. Sleep is downplayed by many, but the results continue to show otherwise.

Studies on sleep continue to be published. Research on sleep deprivation outlines higher risks for heart disease and type two diabetes. Understandable results are also evident in daily interactions with others who are consumed with fatigue: lack of concentration, slow job performance and droopy eyes. It is truly evident in the physical expression, the disposition of the body. In other words, sleep is important. Drug manufacturers know this reality well. Lunesta (the green butterfly) and Ambien (the moving streetlight) are becoming well known. I am also detecting a strong frequency of advertisements on The Sleep Number and Tempur-Pedic beds. One who sleeps for eight hours each morning, this revelation always surprises others I converse with. Granted, exceptions arise, and I wake up from time to time. But I consistently slumber without interruption. When I ponder this reality, I recognize the goodness of unending rest. The body undertakes a riveting process of restoration: energy rises up once more, the mind relaxes, dreams drop anchor. It is Sabbath for the body.

In the Scriptures, Sabbath is framed in terms of time, a day physical work rescinds. But for the overworked, Sabbath is emotional, spiritual rest too. A Hebrew word for "sleep" is yashen. Surprisingly, one must be always be mindful of context, even in the Scriptures; while numerous stories reference sleep for simply what it is (resting the body), other references frame it in terms of sex (shakab in Hebrew), ironically a time partners choose to relinquish slumber. And to add irony to irony, research notes sex promotes sleep. Another divergence from nocturnal rest is discovered in a Greek word for "sleep". This word is katheudo, meaning "to be dead". It also means "to yield to sin" (missing the mark). The understanding for this meditation is rest. It's unfortunate technology robs the body of sleep. Television, the web, text messages and e-mail are able to hold the mind on a leash all day, each day. But one must be mindful of working too much, a problem, not an unchangeable reality of life.

Work is good, and it is coupled with Sabbath. Proverbs, a book by King Solomon, holds numerous principles on the ramifications of fruitful work, the ills of laziness. He writes, "A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest-and poverty will come on you like a bandit." Work is good, but it must conclude each day. Numerous songs are titled "Time is on My Side", the popular edition credited to the Rolling Stones. But this simply is not the case. A day is finite. It is simple to think the clock directs one's life, but in reality it is the rising and the setting of the sun. The body "clock" follows this pattern. Caffeine, the drug of choice for many, exists to keep the body moving forward, to transcend this natural rhythm the day encompasses. But stress is the inevitable result. Sleep is truly the antidote.

I also liken peace to sleep, for it is the equilibrium the body moves into when the muscles relax, the breathing slows, the mind settles. A story in the Scriptures notes Jesus in a boat with his students. A storm arises on the sea. Rattled, they wonder if they will survive the meteorological turmoil; wind whips through the sail, waves tumble into the boat, lightning consumes the attention of the eye. During this chaos, Jesus is sleeping on a cushion. He must sleep well if a fierce storm does not rouse him. Concerned with drowning, the students awaken him, asking if he cares death is knocking. Jesus invokes peace over the elements and they subside. I know the possibility of deep stress exists every day, but lowering my head on the pillow with a clear mind is a reality (not a pipe dream) transcending the physical world. I'm coming to the conclusion this peace arises in the room before sleep too. It arises in silence, although this is difficult when horns, trains, dogs, brakes, engines and emergency vehicles interrupt the stillness. But in the unbroken moments, conversation with one's self and conversation with God surfaces in the solitude.

While drugs, cookies, chocolate and sex facilitate rest, my routine for slumber is comprised of ritual. Not surprisingly, it does depend on the day, for when I engage in physical labor or activity for the majority of the day, I drop quickly. The other days are built on the discipline of reading. Books, magazines and the Scriptures are my meditation points when the day concludes, the subject of information, contemplation, inspiration. I have readily noticed my head dips forward and my eyelids fall like the blinds when I know I am unable to remain alert, awake. Pillows and sheets are truly a wondrous gift from above. I know I will arise refreshed. Looking forward, I often think on marriage, the reality of children, the disruption in my sleep undoubtedly occurring. JoJo Jensen captures the spirit of this reality best: "Without enough sleep, we all become tall two-year-olds." I'm truly thankful a remedy for stress exists. I welcome the physical restoration occurring when the body shuts down from activity. But I also welcome the clarity of mind, spirit. I welcome dreams, some worth keeping, others worth forgetting. I welcome Sabbath. So good night...my bedtime is near.

The "R" Word

"Revolution is not a dinner party, not an essay, nor a painting, nor a piece of embroidery; it cannot be advanced softly, gradually, carefully, considerately, respectfully, politely, plainly and modestly."
--Mao Tse-Tung

"When you invite people to think, you are inviting revolution."
--Ivana Gabara

Forrest Gump continues to ruminate on his life stories as bench mates come and go. At one point, he recalls his decision to become a shrimp boat captain, birthed from his promise to Bubba, a Vietnam buddy. Stumbling into remarkable success, the shrimp haul continues to grow and a good friend decides to watch over his financial affairs. Gump puts it this way: "Lieutenant Dan got me invested in some kind of fruit company. So then I got a call from him, saying we don't have to worry about money no more." I remember the letterhead Forrest pulled from the mailbox--a colored apple is centered at the top of the page. This "fruit company" continues to lead the way in technical innovation. In 2006, Apple sold 39.4 million iPods and this number continues to rise. The Shuffle, Nano and Classic have been redesigned numerous times, further adding to sales. And on June 29th, the company introduced the iPhone: one million units sold in 74 days. The iPod and iPhone have been deemed revolutionary.

A proverb states, "Revolutions never go backwards." But as my eyes look to the small nation of Myanmar, I begin to question the staying power of this statement. Frustrated and fatigued with the ruling military junta, Buddhist monks turned to the streets, deciding to protest. Numerous marches have taken place and civilians took notice, even joining the spiritual leaders. Unfortunately, soldiers and riot police are initiating a crackdown; the official death toll is 10, but citizens think it is higher. An article recently published in TIME is entitled "Anatomy of a Failed Revolution". Writer Andrew Marshall spent time in the country during the protests and documented his experiences. What stays with me from this article is the mantra the monks continued to repeat, so simple, so powerful: "Let everyone be free from harm. Let everyone be free from anger. Let everyone be free from hardship." The humanitarian crisis is deepening as malaria deaths grow, malnourishment spreads, and residents struggle to live under a dollar a day. International pressure is mounting and the seeds are planted. Perhaps this revolution is simply undergoing a hiccup. Internationally recognized Buddhist leader Thich Nhat Hanh states, "It is already a success because if monks are imprisoned or have died, they have offered their spiritual leadership. And it is up to the people in Burma and the world to continue."

It seems to me the word "revolution" is used very casually, ascribed to phones and televisions, toothpaste and video games. And when one stops to consider the services or products that create convenience and comfort in life, "revolutionary" appears to be a fitting attribute. Advancements in technology are startling, drawing roots from Gutenberg and the printing press, Edison and the light bulb, Bell and the telephone. One cannot leave out the refrigerator, the washer and dryer, and the microwave. What can I say about the World Wide Web? Information is seemingly limitless, communication is instant, and self-branding is commonplace. But strikingly, millions live without these "gadgets" on a daily basis. While it rarely occurs, I am always humbled when the power goes out in our home. The television image instantly vanishes, the hum of the air conditioner slowly fades, and the lights usher in the darkness. What does one do? Revolutionary appliances are worthless for the upcoming minutes (or hours). Candles are extracted from the closet and another "revolutionary" item makes an appearance...the match.

When I truly ponder the word "revolution", violence is the first synonym I recollect. Looking back into history, I remember the American and French Revolution, the Bolshevik and Civil Rights Revolution. While the struggle for blacks to gain equality under the law is often deemed a "movement", violence was commonplace, and thus, in my belief, it is a revolution. The word, even when spoken, has the sound of might surrounding it. But it is always refreshing to study revolutions without the sword, the firearm. Consider the Industrial Revolution or the Information Revolution [Enlightenment], the Hippie Revolution or the Green Revolution currently on the upswing. Unlike trends though, revolutions are not faddish and do not fade after fickle early adopters or leaders look to emerging ideas. Revolutions incite change for the long-term. Consider the importance of living "greener". Even skeptics are beginning to acknowledge the world has warmed. Understanding the ramifications of energy consumption is of deep importance. Why? What do we wish to bequeath our children? What legacy do we wish to leave? Dirty air, zero trees, and unnecessary waste? I know I don't. I am already amazed at the advancements: hybrids, solar power, wind power, and light bulbs capable of lasting five years. Caring for the planet is not the responsibility of tree huggers.

Not surprisingly, "revolution" is also a word used within the church. I sporadically hear pastors invite members to initiate one in the community, in the state, in politics, in relationships. What intrigues me is this word appears  only once in the Scriptures. In context, Jesus is speaking about the temple and the coming time when "every stone will be thrown down." He tells his followers to not be afraid even when they hear "of wars and revolutions." As for Jesus, he was deemed a revolutionary, a man who would not stop disrupting the spiritual status quo. Accordingly, enemies temporarily joined forces and commissioned his execution. For many, he died a nobody, a lunatic full of pipe dream ideas. But others began to say he was walking the streets once again. Their courage intensified as the Romans began to violently lash out, destroying the temple in the year 70. And more people continued to be part of this community.

I have decided following Jesus is the best way to live and enjoy being part of this community despite the stereotypes and shortcomings. While many will think this decision is silly, my beliefs are unfounded, and God is simply the invention of man, I choose to believe otherwise and orient my life around this belief. In other words, I choose to study the words of Jesus and practice them. And what I discover in the teachings of Jesus are the seeds of revolution, not a movement with swords, but mercy, clothing the poor, providing food to the hungry, restoration to the displaced. In fact, a recent poll I looked over noted that people find deep satisfaction helping others. Go figure. The teachings of Jesus are counter cultural: forgiving when it is not merited, assisting when it is easier to keep driving, paying when the wallet is lean already. I continually discover that when one chooses to help another, the act returns in full, many times when it is least expected. It seems the teachings of Jesus are revolutionary.

The Beatles once asked, "You say you want a revolution?" According to the dictionary, "revolution" means "a turn around." And while many think revolutions begin with the masses, they tend to start with one person deciding to choose otherwise. On the brink of America's forthcoming independence from England, Patrick Henry uttered a revolutionary comment in front of the Virginia House of Burgesses: "I know not what course others may take; but as for me, give me liberty or give me death!" A friend of mine always closes a seminar he gives about Rosa Parks and her decision to choose otherwise. Refusing to give up her seat, the bus driver tells her she will be arrested. Firm and prepared, she echoes the words of Henry: "I knew someone had to take the first step and I made up my mind not to move." I have discovered the power of this resolve in my own life. If I wait for others to take the first step, it may never happen. Pride keeps people from moving forward; they look to others and think it is incumbent upon them to "blink" first. Ironically, while this approach to life seems arrogant, I see inherent humility. While the decision to live as a person of change is bold, understanding the risks should no doubt increase the awareness of the possibility of failure. Deep wisdom comes through failure though. Revolutions, like Burma, may "fail" for a season, but the seeds are in the earth and in the minds of onlookers. And amazing change comes in good time.

References:

Marshall, Andrew. "Anatomy of a Failed Revolution".
TIME, October 22, 2007, 30-35.

"Snap"

"I will permit no man to narrow and degrade my soul by making me hate him."
--Booker T. Washington

"Hate punishes love."
--Abbe Yeux-verdi

Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold entered Columbine High School April 20, 1999 and gunned down 12 students and one teacher before committing suicide. What followed was a sparked debate over the role video games play in the creation and escalation of violence. "The Matrix" entered theaters the previous month and also fell under the microscope of parent groups and politicians. Although the memories of this day are slowly slipping from my mind, a song continues to stay with me: "One Step Closer" by Linkin Park. My sister owns Hybrid Theory, the album this song is part of, and I remember her listening to it shortly after the shootings. Anguished and equally upset, I walked into my sister's room and expressed my disdain for the song, surprised the anger failed to phase her emotions. What surprises me is that seven years have passed and I truly enjoy this song...the beat is catchy and the lyrics are potent. But when I contemplate  the words in light of Columbine, the parallels become clearer. Hate lives inside everyone. Many keep it caged well; others vocalize it through music, film and books. And still others allow it to build up. They tuck it away, but it festers, itches, swells. And a solitary word or action push them past the breaking point.

Coincidentally, as I write this article two films focusing on hate are headed to theaters. The first is "Death Sentence", directed by James Wan. Kevin Bacon portrays Nick Hume, a father willing to do whatever it takes to avenge his murdered son. The second film is "The Brave One", directed by Neil Jordan. Jodie Foster portrays Erica, a wife consumed with revenge after her husband is beaten to death. Notice the key words in the aforementioned statements: "avenge" and "revenge". While unique in spelling, the definitions are identical. Each film is distinct and yet similar too, blurring the line. Does society applaud vigilantes? Each asks the quintessential question: "How far will you go?" "The Boondock Saints" (1999), directed by Troy Duffy, asked this complex question at the film's close. The story follows two brothers who decide it's time to wipe out the Russian mob and Italian Mafia in Boston, believing this mission is directed by God. As the credits begin to roll, average citizens are asked if the brothers' actions are justified. Many think God is responsible for justice, others are indifferent, and some cheer the boys on.

Brian Garfield, the author of Death Wish and author of the novel that inspired "Death Sentence", (also a 1974 film by the same title starring Charles Bronson) states, "People are just sort of simmering with the kind of anger that they can't really define, and this kind of movie gives them some kind of release." But what exactly is this "anger" Garfield alludes to? Is it anger that criminals are wrongfully released, back on the streets? Is it anger women and children are victims of violent crimes? Or is it anger society feels helpless in responding from time to time? Each plays a role at one point or another. And society singles out those who respond, lifting them up. In my belief, it comes as no surprise Batman is a celebrated hero. In fact, the original "Batman", (1989), directed by Tim Burton, was on television this afternoon. As Bruce Wayne prepares to track down the Joker, Vicki Vale is escorted into the bat cave by Alfred, discovering the true identity of the Dark Knight. Rightfully confused, she asks Wayne, "Why do you have to do this?" Pausing briefly, he replies, "Because nobody else can."

A good friend commented on the Middle East last year through two articles. He composed these think pieces as "Syriana" (2005) and "Munich" (2005) grabbed audience attention. He penned a phrase I will never forget: "reactive reciprocity leaves everyone dead." I understand this phenomenon better as I stayed up to 1 A.M. recently watching a CNN special entitled "God's Warriors". Six hours in length, the segments outline the similarities and dramatic differences between Christ followers, Jews, and Muslims. Chief international correspondent Christine Amanpour captures the animosity between Jews and Muslims well. I discovered in deeper detail the sustained feud heavily resides in who has claim to the West Bank. And unfortunately, diplomacy never seems to resolve this bloody problem...revenge is the chief motivation, for each despise one another. Consider this passage in the Torah. In Leviticus 19:18, God speaks to Moses and states, "Do not seek revenge or bear a grudge against one of your people, but love your neighbor as yourself." While this command sounds like the teaching of Jesus, stricter Pharisees believed it implied this additional teaching: "Hate your enemy."

In the book of Proverbs, King Solomon writes repeatedly on the subject of adultery and the calamity it creates. The reason for "healthy" jealously is simple--love. Husbands are jealous for a wife's love, a son's love, a daughter's love. And when someone steals this love permanently through adultery (and crime), emptiness consumes the heart and hate gains traction. Solomon writes, "For jealously arouses a husband's fury, and he will show no mercy when he takes revenge." Jesus invites the willing to love their enemies. The simplicity and intensity of this teaching fall on deaf ears over and over, but it remains nonetheless. For many, God is synonymous with goodness and love. But understanding he hates specific behavior is a vexing thought to ponder. Incidentally, society scorns individuals who engage in these particular practices too: pride, lying, murder, extortion and trouble making. 

"To End All Wars" (2001), directed by David Cunningham, truly outlines the action of loving one's enemies. This particular film follows the true story of Ernest Gordon and three other Allied POW's who endure deep mistreatment from their Japanese captors during World War II. This is a far cry from efforts on both sides during this hellish conflict. Surrenders were few and far between; soldiers acted as both the judge and the jury, rarely granting mercy. But I wonder how much hate truly existed. The enlisted answered the country's call and they stepped forward to serve bravely, unaware of the mental anguish it takes to extinguish the life of another. Corporal Upham's tears and temporary disillusionment come to mind in "Saving Private Ryan" (1998), directed by Steven Spielberg. As I consider the present Middle East though, hatred is better pronounced. It's becoming difficult to peruse the headlines without a story on suicide bombing dotting the news lineup. And while the United States has numerous problems and is hated by many, I will not live anywhere else. I love my country very much.

Kevin Bacon recently commented on his character in "Death Sentence": "At the end you don't see the hero step out into the sunlight and the music swells and he's triumphed. He really is broken. Everything he cares about he has destroyed by picking up a sword." I would surmise Jodie Foster echoes a similar sentiment on her character's destiny. Robert the Bruce's father, inching nearer to death, thinks he has words of wisdom for his son in "Braveheart" (1995), directed by Mel Gibson. He states, "At last, you know what it means to hate. Now you're ready to be a king." Opening the chamber door, calm and firm in his tone, Robert replies, "My hate...will die with you." This exchange represents the nature of men and women, creatures capable of sacrificial love and scathing hate. And unfortunately, many Christ followers are tagged with this moniker of hate. While few will continually perpetuate this label, many will respond with humble words, a helping hand, a moment of kindness without desire for compensation. English duo Peter & Gordon capture these actions best with a 1964 tune: "I don't care what they say, I won't stay in a world without love."

References:

Halbfinger, David M. "Unease in the Air and Revenge on the Screen."
The New York Times, August 31, 2007.

"Panorama"

"When I counted up my demons, saw there was one for every day.  With the good ones on my shoulders, I drove the other ones away."
--Coldplay, "Everything's Not Lost"

"When we don't know who to hate, we hate ourselves."
--Chuck Palahniuk

"Mission: Impossible 2", directed by John Woo, arrived in theaters the summer of 2000.  While the film lacks the gripping story of its predecessor, the stunt sequences quickly captured audience attention.  I was drawn to the melody of the opening frames; the well-known "Mission: Impossible" theme played in the background and gradually unfurled into the opening credits.  But through a quick search, I discovered the song was actually a remix entitled "Take a Look Around" by Limp Bizkit.  I pondered the lyrics and discovered the last two lines of the chorus sadly echo reality, whether one is willing to admit it or not: "Now I know why you want to hate me, cause hate is all the world has ever seen lately."  Checking the headlines on a daily basis, I discover affirmation of this statement.  And while it seems the concentration of hate lies in the Middle East, this mindset crosses all geographical boundaries.  Hate resides in Sudan, India, China, Russia, the United Kingdom and the United States...its presence lingers around the globe.

What leads men and women into hate?  Is it jealously or feelings of superiority, greed or indifference, betrayal or religion?  Perhaps each plays a role from time to time.  But perhaps it is a deeper dilemma, a feeling, a belief within.  Everyone seems to know the world is off base, wounded, hurting.  The Scriptures speak about the first man and woman in the Garden, at peace, enjoying shalom with God.  But evil lurks and appears as a snake.  He invites the man and woman to eat fruit from the restricted tree, stating, "You will be like God, knowing good and evil."  And so they eat, aware they are nude, now ashamed of a body no longer clothed.  Accordingly, they are exiled from the Garden.  And thus begins the tumultuous journey of humanity.  "Hate" first appears in Joseph's story, a boy who dreams he will rule over his family members.  A Hebrew word for "hate" is satam and means "bear a grudge".  Another translation reads, ironically, "to cherish animosity against".  And notice the new word if the last letter of satam is changed to "n".  Satan is comically stereotyped and humorously portrayed in cartoons, but he is generally regarded as the complete manifestation of evil, the being humanity associates hatred with.  In fact, "Bedazzled" (2000), directed by Harold Ramis, presents Satan as a tempting female as Elizabeth Hurley portrays the prince of darkness.  And another question lingers too: as an angel, can he take human form?

The web is a primary resource to vocalize hate and the vigilant have maximized its exposure; top results in searches include the definition of "hate" in Wikipedia, a band simply known as HATE, a directory of hate groups listed on the web, and individual websites devoted to hating homosexuals, men, women, Google, Starbucks, clowns and television commercials, to name a handful.  Other top results include sites passionate about advancing tolerance and dialogue, incidentally remedies of the aforementioned sites.  Hate is the foundation of wars.  I call to mind the Civil War and cannot escape the lament it invokes.  Regions drew battle lines, clashed, and families were torn apart; brothers became enemies.  And a soldier's words continue to stay with me: "I killed my brother with malice in my heart."  This nation also carries the scars of racism, the ignorant mistake a man's skin color makes him less human.  But through numerous struggles and the efforts of steadfast leaders, notably Martin Luther King Jr., healing is continuing to take place.

Jesus makes a bold statement during his teaching: "Do not suppose that I have come to bring peace to the earth.  I did not come to bring peace, but a sword."  This is a far cry from the man who instructed his followers to love their enemies and forgive without cessation.  But as I consider hate further, this jarring statement seems clearer.  Jesus incited his critics to kill him multiple times because of his teaching.  Willingly giving himself up, he perished by the "sword" they brandished, the cross.  What follows in history are multiple occasions of misguided direction in the name of God, the name of Jesus.  The Inquisition and the Crusades quickly come to mind, along with the Salem witch trials, slavery, and the current jihad being waged by Muslim fundamentalists.  What's unsettling and tragic about these particular instances are the followers, the willing who actually believe they are correct, perhaps blinded by the leadership of a select few.  And manipulating holy text from the Scriptures (as well as the Koran) imposes the will of man over God's; what follows is unnecessary bloodshed and widespread cynicism.  And what if Jesus himself is a "sword" too?  Who has created more interest, passion, friction and division among people than Jesus when one looks at history?

I find it easier, like others, to hate people and not the act that underscores the deep disdain I exhibit.  For instance, I utterly despise rape.  But when I first started understanding this concept years ago, my disgust rested exclusively with the perpetrator.  As time continues to unfold, I know understanding why people engage in this practice will be a futile exercise.  Understanding why children are forcefully placed in sex trades is beyond me.  My hope is deciding to exercise the words of Jesus and choosing to forgive, a practice that is never simple.  On occasion, hate is simply masking temporary anger, a moment or moments of dislike.  Children tend to say "I hate you" to a parent one time or another and embrace mom or dad with a hug ten minutes later.  Teenagers use this phrase constantly, but again, anger in the moment leads to words soon regretted.  Society downplays the power of words, but "hate" is hard to restrain as it's loaded with emotional punch, potency.

While it seems trite to even mention, love is the antithesis of hate and trumps its presence.  A passage in the Torah reads, "Love your neighbor and hate your enemy."  Jesus comments on this text and commissions the listening ears to pray for their enemies.  He later states, "If you love those who love you, what reward will you get?"  Perhaps he is critiquing one's circle of friends.  In other words, disregarding strangers is foolish.  Friends were once strangers.  In fact, millions of individuals attend church on a weekly basis, sharing seats with others who share the same beliefs.  But they continue to live as strangers, hesitant to leave room for another.  I am part of this tendency, but hope, in good time, I will make efforts to move beyond this strange phenomenon and cherish the power of community.  The willing risk image or comfort and expand the circle.  And in this circle of authentic transparency and vulnerability, selfless love exists and true relationships are forged.

When I look at the world, sorrow consumes my heart from time to time.  Men and women continually hurt one another.  Friends hurt one another.  Nations hurt one another.  The shootings at Virginia Tech University is a recent example that comes to mind.  I see casualties in Iraq on what seems to be a daily basis, additional deaths in Darfur, and the recent shootings in Newark, New Jersey.  But I also know love blankets this earth and its presence is spread on a daily basis.  These acts of true love are not reported in the local news, but the recipients know.  I am reminded of Beatles wisdom, a song on the Magical Mystery Tour album.  I believe John Lennon may have put it best in 1967 with five words that continue to have significant impact even to this day: "All you need is love."

"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.

"Kneel"

"If each man or woman could understand that every other human life is as full of sorrows, or joys, or base temptations, of heartaches and of remorse as his [or her] own...how much kinder, how much gentler he [or she] would be."
--William Allen White

"Humility can be sought but never celebrated."
--Unknown

Lindsay Lohan recently joined the list of celebrities who have spent time in rehabilitation.  She was suspected of driving under the influence after crashing her Mercedes; cocaine was also tentatively identified at the scene.  It is simple to scoff and point a glaring finger at her mistakes, but she acknowledges the tenet of every organization that exists to help individuals get well: "I have a problem."  Paris Hilton is serving jail time and Britney Spears is reorganizing her life, aptly noted on her website: "I am 25 and I do still have a lot to learn, and I am going to make mistakes everyday, and I am sure every mistake I make will probably be on CNN or Good Morning America.  I am only human people and I love you for still loving me."  Disgust or apathy tend to be the perception of these young stars, but is it possible lament is the better word?  Are their stories simply more Hollywood banter to gossip about or are they authentic glimpses into the deep trenches of a person's soul?

I recently heard someone discuss the power of AA (Alcoholics Anonymous) meetings.  Having exhausted all resources, men and women join this community on a daily basis.  In fact, consider the wisdom of this gathering: everyone is working towards the same goal; accountability to others is pivotal; relapse is possible; boasting is a vain exercise; success can be achieved.  Ironically, finding assistance comes with a difficult admission, perhaps the hardest phrase to utter: "I cannot do this on my own."  When pride falls down, when the walls of the false self crumble, restoration begins.  Solomon, a king of ancient Israel, writes, "A man's pride brings him low, but a man of lowly spirit gains honor."  In this particular sentence, the ancient Hebrew word for low is shaphel and means "sink" or "abased."  It's vexing that "lowly" and "honor" reside together, but strength rises when we look to others for support and encouragement.  And as a society, we expose those who are not genuine, who give shoddy efforts.  But it is our secret hope the hurting discover wellness.

As wellness emerges, numerous lessons are revealed, two of which worth noting.  The first is wisdom, recognizing the warning signs that lead to pride, lust, jealousy, and the list of other vices society engages with on a daily basis; the second is humility, a new look on life, fresh eyes.  The opening quote captures this outlook, for it contains a paradox.  Those who celebrate humility are ironically revealing its antithesis, pride.  The humble deflect attention and prefer not to be recognized; they wish to serve or volunteer quietly, letting their actions go unnoticed.  Few live by this mantra though.  In seeking importance, purpose, status and prestige, men and women intentionally verbalize accomplishments to others.  And even if they don't, others tend to do it for them.  And the truth is quite simple--we enjoy the attention, the praise of others, the flash of the camera bulb, the awards that grace the den walls.  Otherwise, there is no need for magazines, television, books, or film.  Our society revolves around the power of the human spirit.

Although pride is generally framed through negative connotations, there is additional room on the spectrum.  Pride is healthy and another way of describing self-respect.  Everyone has abilities, passions, and gifts to make the world a better place.  We take pride in a family heirloom or a rare piece of art, a new car or a job promotion.  Many feel a deep sense of civic pride as they vote. Pride is good, but becomes unhealthy when the measure of one's self becomes exaggerated or excessive.  It is then a mind of egotism and vanity begins to blossom, the person no one wishes to be around.  Oddly enough, we tend to secretly admire the arrogant, those that seem to have life together and always comment on the comments of others.  But a different person may live behind closed doors, a depressed person, a hurting person.  Unfortunately, it easier to put the mask of happiness on, burying true emotions.

Pride has also been the focal point of race recently.  Mel Gibson was blasted for his remarks about Jewish men and women, Don Imus made a callous remark about the Rutgers women's basketball team, and Michael Richards may have ended his career during a stand-up routine some months back.  Pride has been the basis for the Civil War and the Civil Rights Movement.  And while racism seems quiet, it's presence is everywhere.  I watched "American History X" (1998) two months ago and spent the remaining moments of the evening in jarring shock and deep reflection.  Derek Vinyard, eerily portrayed by Edward Norton, is a former Neo-Nazi who tries to prevent his younger brother from following his path.  Vinyard is influenced by a man consumed with white pride, further driven by hate for minorities after his father dies.  He murders a young black man and heads to prison; what he discovers is hell on earth, total breakdown.  It is then Vinyard decides to give up his former way of life.  And ironically, a black teacher never gives up on the true man he sees within Derek.

"American History X" and "Crash" have revealed to me I have racist tendencies.  Everyone has racial tendencies.  Though they may never be vocalized, I process these thoughts unconsciously.  Again, it easier to look at the faults of others.  Looking inside is difficult and reveals unwanted character traits; growth comes when we come to the understanding that change for the better can occur.  Pride keeps us from this admission, the blatant denial that no problem exists, that all is well.  Solomon writes, "Pride only breeds quarrels, but wisdom is found in those who take advice."  Humility resides in the heart of those who listen, internalize, respond, grow.  Societal wisdom may denote the humble as weak.  But in light of the Scriptures, unconventional wisdom is apparent.

St. Paul talks about strength in weakness.  The ancient Greek word for weak is astheneia and means "to bear trials and troubles."  Life is full of astheneia, working through problems that arise day to day--strained relationships, parenting, divorce, anger, jealousy, finances, purpose, existence, peace.  But like rehabilitation, strength comes when we look beyond our means and seek the help of another, a higher power perhaps.   Calm begins to sweep over a chaotic mind and rest begins to engulf the soul.  Men and women who enter rehabilitation and sit down acknowledge this statement, verbally or mentally: "I need help."  And sitting across from them is someone who wishes to do just that.  In fact, this motion of sitting down is similar to a posture in which both legs rest down on the earth.

"Glimmer"

"We cannot hold a torch to light another's path without brightening our own."
--Ben Sweetland

"There are those who give with joy, and that joy is their reward."
--Kahlil Gibran

The sun warmed my face yesterday as I laced up my tennis shoes.  A breeze continually caressed my face as the jog began.  Immersed in the music, I listened intently to the lyrics, captivated by the guitars, the drums, the piano, the voices.  "Here without You" by 3 Doors Down started and trickled through the headphones as emotion flooded my consciousness.  My thoughts turned to the students, families, and faculty of Virginia Tech.  And tears started rolling down my cheeks.

Tomorrow will be two weeks since the shootings, a grim reminder of a day we wish to forget.  And incidentally, a day we wish to remember too.  Tragedies compel us to examine the fragility of life, a reminder to be aware of our surroundings at all times.  But beyond this, we remember people, lives who have intersected ours.  We recount the value, the joy, the story they have added to our existence, a priceless treasure grasped both now and always.  Consider the actions of Liviu Librescu, an aeronautical-engineering professor.  The shootings happened to coincide with Holocaust Remembrance Day, a time of solemn reflection by Jews across the globe.  Librescu was a Holocaust survivor and will be remembered for blocking the door to his classroom and telling his students to evacuate through the windows.  He did not live.  A recent article outlined his actions and also left space for feedback; one respondent writes, "I finally have a hero."  And while I do not know whether he acknowledged Christ as the incarnate son of God, I do know his actions reflect the words Christ commissioned his disciples to live by: "Greater love has no one than this, that he lay down his life for his friends."

His actions, like so many others, continually facilitate the kingdom of God in this reality.  What's more, as I alluded to in the previous reflection, the majority of these actions go unnoticed.  These men and women are the unsung heroes, the servants of humanity; they see a need and do what it takes to meet it.  I listened to a podcast for the second time moments ago and discovered a jarring insight about many Christ followers, a revelation I needed to hear as well.  He recounted gnosticism, a toxic and lethal teaching that begin to surface in the first century church.  Followers of this teaching held that the body and mind were distinctly separate, that the spiritual and the physical are distinctly separate.  In other words, the spirit is good and the flesh is bad.  Accordingly, many who followed this teaching indulged the flesh, consumed the body with food, sex, and drink, a hedonistic paradise.  And since the body is bad, no harm, no foul--it is corrupt already.  They believed the spirit can exist on its own, attuned and near to God, fully independent of the carnal body.

Is it possible gnosticism still lingers in numerous teachings today, the belief that the soul is all that matters to God?  There are bumper stickers that read "In case of rapture, this car will be unmanned."  Or what about the hymnal entitled "I'll Fly Away?"  Or what about messages that begin with these words: "All I care about is saving souls."  Individuals concerned exclusively with eternity give little thought to restoring the here and now.  Matthew recounts the story of a rich young man.  Approaching Jesus, he simply asks, "What good thing must I do to get eternal life?"  Remember, "eternal life" is a phrase interchangeable with "kingdom of God."  Jesus instructs him to keep the commandments.  The young man responds with affirmation, but wonders what he still lacks.  Jesus tells him to sell everything and give the resulting income to the poor.  The young man walks away distressed.  He owns much.

Salvation, or renewal, or restoration, or redemption, is the final completion of the whole body, not merely the spirit.  As this vision is continually realized, the kingdom becomes clearer and clearer.  And bringing this kingdom into the here and now is not the responsibility of Democrats or liberals, environmentalists or social justice activists.  Everyone has a role to play, a gift to offer, an ability to exercise.  A deep fear of mine is failing to accelerate the kingdom through my abilities, knowing I can do more and missing opportunities.  Selfishness and apathy can quietly hinder us from this invitation.  The hurried pace of life cannot be taken lightly either.  Time invested in other lives costs time, money, sweat, and the possibility of charitable actions going unnoticed.  I remember a story about a young man walking up to God and saying, "God, there is much pain in the world.  Are you going to end poverty, malnutrition, oppression, violence, and indifference?"  God whispers in return, "Of course.  I created you."

I will never know the accomplishments of the Virginia Tech students.  And I never had the opportunity to meet any of these twentysomething's who had a purpose, a vision, a passion, a career goal.  A diverse spiritual background guided many of them while others may have had no thoughts on deeper truths, deeper realities of life.  For families and friends, life will not be the same again without them.  Society will not be able to receive the abilities they possessed to better this planet.   But I am thankful for the moments they revealed the kingdom through action, intentionally or unintentionally, not stopping short with words.  I am thankful for the story they did tell.  May these lives, these stories live on, as we await the day the kingdom is fully realized, the day body is restored with spirit, the day families will reunite.  Until then, may the light of this kingdom continually flow through the cracks of ugliness and consume the darkness.  And remind of us what can be.

"Let it Out" (reloaded)

"Eventually you will come to understand that love heals everything, and love is all there is. 
--Gary Zukav

"We are all broken and wounded in this world.  Some choose to grow strong at the broken places."  --Harold J. Duarte-Bernhardt

This past week, TIME magazine printed an article entitled "The Confession Procession."  Columnist Nancy Gibbs focused on the highly publicized firings of eight U.S. attorneys "viewed as unfriendly to the Administration."  In fact, this story broke soon after an account that outlined in sharp detail the poor treatment U.S. soldiers were receiving while staying at Walter Reed Medical Center.  She also referenced Vice President Cheney, currently under a black cloud, along with Newt Gingrich, who recently confessed his marital sins to James Dobson.  Gibbs writes, "In politics, as in church, there's no telling when penitence is sincere, for God alone knows the human heart.  But it's a useful test in judging character to ask whether admitting failure comes at a cost--or a discount."

We cannot escape confession, nor should we.  And while it seems backward, we tend to quietly applaud those who acknowledge shortcomings and mistakes publicly.  Each of us have weaknesses, skeletons we keep tucked away in the closet.  Unfortunately, they are revealed from time to time.  Barry Levinson directed a film recently entitled "Man of the Year" (2006).  While I have not seen this film yet, an element of the plot has already captured my attention: a man who is willing to be blunt, completely candid about his character as he runs for the Oval Office.  I spent a few moments looking over memorable quotes from the film, recalling Robin Williams vocalize side-splitting punchlines noted in the film's trailer.  Incidentally, Americans are seeking this mantra in the next President, Senator, House representative, local mayor.  We desire transparency, the willingness of those in office to acknowledge mistakes, to level with us and share what I hope is an "optimistic reality."

I recently alluded to brokenness, a state everyone lives in.  Can you recall friends and colleagues who smile what seems to be too much, living like they haven't got a care in the world?  I hope to encounter more of these individuals as I walk through the journey of life.  But I also understand that they, like me, shoulder baggage as well, hurts concealed from others.  St. Paul reminded us that "no one is righteous" as he wrote to Rome.  In fact, Jesus tells a story about a Pharisee and a tax collector, each heading to the temple to pray.  The Pharisee was smug, thrilled he was not a "robber, an evildoer, an adulterer--or a tax collector."  He fasted and tithed.  I would surmise the tax collector listened to the Pharisee as he stood in the doorway.  He lowered his head, unwilling to go in, unwilling to stand proud.  And he muttered these words: "God, have mercy on me, a sinner."  Jesus told those in attendance the tax collector walked home justified.

The tax collector is the representation of humility, the willingness to admit "I don't have my life together."  Pride rests on the opposite end of the spectrum.  Pride is deep in the character of those who will not admit mistakes, errors in judgment.  Consider these words of wisdom--"No one ever choked to death swallowing his pride."  It should come as no surprise that peeling away pride reveals this truth: "I have more to learn."  We respect those who are bold enough to make this statement.  In fact, a good friend recently defined humility in a fresh way, stating, "True humility is discovered as you practice your skills, your abilities, aware that you can become better at them and aware there is most likely someone better."  This is the essence, the nature of a mind's education, growth.

According to my studies on confession, one of the many Hebrew translations for this word is "to cast down or thrown down."  There may be no better fit for this practice of spiritual growth.  In confessing, we verbally lay our failures out, casting them to the earth, to God, to an attuned ear of a close friend.  And while we cannot gauge the reactions of those we share our offenses with, love guides our thoughts, our hopes that when we reveal the spiritual nakedness, vulnerability we share, mercy awaits.  Light also captures the power of confession.  As men and women of society who like to keep secrets suppressed in the abyss, exposure is a frightening thought.  Author Scott Larson believes that those who follow Christ find surprising restoration, writing, "But what if, rather than condemning us, exposure to God's light serves as our friend, allowing him fuller access into our lives?  What if his light is actually the path to healing?"

I recently listened to a podcast.  The speaker ruminated on the miscarriage he and his wife struggled under.  And through the course of his conversation, he inadvertently revealed the pitfall we tend to encounter when someone shares pain, anxiety, secrets, anger, or calamity with us, a practice I have done, hesitant to do next time.  Aside from the initial surprise, and possibly shock, referencing the Scriptures may not be what those who communicate need to hear immediately.  A passage in Romans is stated often: "God is creating, working towards a greater good in all circumstances."  While I affirm this statement, devastation and heartbreak are not easily consoled by words.  "I'm sorry" may be better.  In fact, zero words may be more of a healing presence.  A warm embrace and the promise of action, service, will truly communicate strong love.  And if they are necessary, the Kleenex should be nearby.

"Let it Out"

"An honest confession is good for the soul, but bad for the reputation."  --Thomas Dewar

"If all hearts were open and all desires known--as they would be if people showed their souls--how many sighs, clenched fists, knotted brows, broad grins, and red eyes should we see in the marketplace!"  --Thomas Hardy

Kleenex recently began a new marketing campaign.  The advertisements created for this effort are simple, yet moving.  Picture a man positioning a couch in the middle of the park.  His chair is positioned adjacent to the couch while a small table rests in front of the furniture.   A solitary box of tissues is situated on the table.   As traffic and pedestrians dot the landscape, men and women take a seat and share what's on the mind.  Many tell stories of jubilation, mopping an eye through tears of laughter.  In a recent video, a resident of New Orleans speaks of her family's desire to live closer to one another.  And then hurricane Katrina arrived.  Her family, like millions more, have been displaced across the United States.  But she has returned home.  And as the tears begin to cascade down her cheek, she is determined, vigilant to watch the city embraced by many, shunned by many, regain a sense of normalcy.

This commercial, along with a handful of others, communicates profound spiritual depth.   In the truest sense of the word, respondents are engaging with confession, sharing deep and emotional thoughts with another.  What drives them to do this?  Perhaps it is a catharsis, a release of confined anxiety, fear, hope, euphoria.  Perhaps it is the release of a heavy burden, a welcome celebration of dropped psychological shackles.  It has become clear to me that confession is a wonderful and dangerous element of life.  Blunt honesty propels us to live without fear.   But as we share revelations with others, the perception of what they think can be a haunting thought.

But I believe the benefits of confession trump the costs.  In fact, I spent some time researching confession on the web recently, curious what content existed.  Through this process of perusing websites, I discovered numerous stories about heartbreak and anxiety, fear and failure, lust and hatred, depression and anger.  And yet these words can be captured in one; this word is the quintessential essence of society, a word tucked away, ignored and suppressed, a word of deep humility when uttered: broken.   I am broken.  We are broken.  Each of us have skeletons in the closet, baggage we shoulder on a daily basis.

I wish to elaborate on two perceptions that emerge when confession is practiced.  The first is simple, done on a daily basis, verbally, but generally unconsciously: judgment.  No one escapes this tendency, examining the failures and vices of others.  We measure ourselves against one another and take false pride in the mistakes we have not made, the poor choices we have avoided that others have succumbed to.  The second perception is a paradox, a term I describe as "solemn joy."  Individuals who live by this principle understand this: "I am thankful for the poor choices I have avoided."  What underscores this statement is pivotal, of immense importance: the recognition that we are never, for one moment, immune to giving in to enticement, poor choices, complete failure, and moral depravity.

A life guided by this second mindset erases the likelihood of judgment.  The playing field has been leveled; no one is better than another.  While many of us have made fewer mistakes than others, avoided episodes of deep scarring pain, awareness of failure is deeply humbling.   But it should not lead to fear, a mind consumed with the possibility of pain, regret, breakdown.  A life guided by this mindset leads us to the antithesis of broken: hope.  Hope is a reminder that while we all have spotted backgrounds, we stand together, eager to make the right decision this time.  Hope pleads to a divine presence, a presence many believe is God, "I am broken.  Fix me!"  In the era of the instantaneous, we seek a quick remedy, a supernatural cure for all our ills and shortcomings.  But what if the struggle never ceases?  Do we truly want it to?  Will we grow in character if it does?

St. Paul outlines a struggle, a "thorn" he works to overcome in his own life.  Frustrated, he asks God to simply remove it, to take away the difficulty it creates.  But God refuses.  He encourages Paul to grow, overcome this burden daily if necessary.  Brokenness leads to weakness, emotionally and physically.  And in this moment, having exhausted all resources, all energy, we call for help, rescue, restoration...and it arrives.  Truthfully, I am not sure at times why it does--I have not earned redemption.  No merits or goodwill have justified me.  Humanity is a mess, both charming and deplorable.  Incidentally, I am reminded of "Bruce Almighty" (2003).  As the film draws to a close, God, portrayed by Morgan Freeman, shares true wisdom with the protagonist, Bruce Nolan (Jim Carrey).  The two have just finished mopping the floor and Freeman looks down at the finished work, remarking, "No matter how filthy something gets, you can always clean it right up."

Confession acknowledges this statement.  And it leads us to a place of freedom, the joy that comes in knowing our character is always being refined, polished, cleaned.  No one is righteous.  Identifying with other's failures leads us all to healing, the realization we don't have it all together.  And as we discover this, as we are healed, as the scratches are covered, a fresh state of mind emerges: we can do better.  Repeated failure begs this question: will I miss the mark the next time and recognize where I went wrong?  Will I be aware of the warning signs?  While I cannot answer for you, I have discovered the dire importance of these questions.  They lead me to avoiding past mistakes and preparing myself for future enticements.  They lead me to a place of sustained spiritual growth.  And while there is no doubt I will fall down again, I understand that failure facilitates true wisdom.

Many of us respond to the proverbial question "How are you?" with one word--"fine."  "Fine" may be the most boring, trite word in the English language.  I will never respond with it again.  It is a mask, a front to hide our true emotional state.  Deep friendships are guided by deeper responses.  With this in mind, tell someone who asks exactly how you feel the next time this question is raised.  The two of you may be retreating to a room momentarily to spend additional minutes in conversation, ruminating on brokenness and restoration.  Savor it.  Let it out.  And grab a Kleenex if necessary.