Paying Attention

Dear Malady,
I enjoyed the many fine examples Taylor uses in Chapter 2 about paying attention. I was struck, however, by how she closed this section. She just said you need a willingness to pay attention, but I really believe that you need to be in a good place to really pay attention as Taylor describes the act.

If you're not in good health, or have marital problems, or are stressed-out at work, it becomes exceedingly difficult to have the degree of awareness Taylor talks about. I'm not sure you can simply "will" yourself to do it. I think most of us struggle with enough stuff that we're not able to pay attention. But perhaps I should only speak for myself.

In my own life, it has only been after correctly dealing with chemical imbalances and learning how to recognize my feelings in everyday situations that I've been able to "pay attention." Paying attention would have been impossible for me without outside help. I cannot think of any specific "paying attention" examples from my own life at this time.

This chapter fell kind of flat for me. I'm curious to know what you thought of it.

Love,
Gary

I'm Not Religious, I'm Spiritual

Dear Malady and Purl -
I, too, have now read the introduction to An Altar in the World. I had to laugh when I read the very first sentence: "If I only had a dollar for every time someone told me, 'I'm a spiritual person, not a religious person.'" I tell others that same thing ALL THE TIME!

Malady, you mentioned Taylor's emphasis on finding the divine in everything we do, no matter how small or insignificant. You also alluded to how difficult it is to maintain that kind of awareness when you're grinding through your day. I absolutely agree.

I think I tell people I'm a spiritual person because I long for meaning and connection. I look for meaning and connection in other people. I look for them in objects. Being an outdoor person, I especially look for them in nature. In fact, I fully expect to find God when I'm nature and am a little bummed out when I don't find Him (or Her, as the case may be) in beautiful outdoor places. What's up with that, anyway?

About a month ago, I woke up early when I heard the train pass by our house about a half mile away. Trains go by all the time and I'm so used to them now that I rarely wake up when they pass. But there was something different about this train. Or this particular time. I woke up hearing the train and feeling at complete peace. I could feel my weight on the bed. The sound of the train was crystal clear. My mind was calm and quiet. I felt happy for no particular reason. I think God was with me.

I rarely have this kind of sensation, as my mind is active, fretting, or engaged in some other distraction at nearly every moment of the day. For me, peace is one of those elusive and divine qualities I wish I experienced more of in my everyday life. I cherished this moment with the train.

I'm looking forward to this book.

Love,
Gary

Keeping Promises

Dear Malady and Purl,

Recently I have found myself in a lot of trouble at home and at work. It's because I haven't kept promises to certain key people in my life.

My not coming through hasn't been intentional at all. In fact, I'm meticulous about writing things down and sorting out their respective priorities later.

Of course, one of my problems is that I have a lot to do. I tend to work slowly and carefully, so I often find my tasks piling up. Another problem I have is giving people false hope by promising to have things done by certain deadlines.

As I fall behind on my tasks, I have a tendency to put off the people who I care the most about and/or have the biggest investment in. I also look for simple efficiencies as I do my work. Often I find clear-headedness in getting ten unimportant tasks done at the expense of one important chore for someone who matters a great deal to me.

As a result, some of the relationships I care most about have suffered. I've lost much of the trust I once had in these people because I haven't come through on things I have promised. Right now, I feel inadequate and inauthentic in those relationships.

If you ask me about my own faith, I'll tell you that I derive much of it from the relationships I have with certain people. The people who I have failed. I'm wondering if you've ever found yourself in a similar situation, and if so, what you did to get yourself on track again. I would be grateful for any suggestions you might have to help me.

Gary

The Five Love Languages

Dear Malady and Purl,
As I mentioned in my comment to Malady's last post, I've been reading a book called The Five Love Languages, by Gary Chapman. I just finished it, and I'd like to tell you a little about it.

Chapman contends that all of us feel, give, and receive love in different ways, and that there are five fundamental ways in which love can be communicated: Acts of service, physical touch, words of affirmation, receiving gifts, and quality time. You can read more about these five languages here.

I learned two important lessons from this book. The first is that to truly communicate with someone (say, my spouse), I need to discover what that person's primary love language is. Chapman says that we have a tendency to communicate in our own love language, which may or may not resonate with the other person. This has been true in my own case - I tend to communicate using words of affirmation, which is my own primary love language. However, I've been practicing Chapman's methods on my spouse and even my boss, and I have to say I've already noticed a difference.

The second lesson I learned from this book is that love is a choice, not a feeling. The example Chapman uses in his book is that the "in love" feelings we have at the beginning of an intimate relationship is not real love. Those "in love" feelings are temporary and stem mainly from infatuation with the other person. When we finally come down from that high, what's left? That's when we must make a choice to either figure out how to love a person with whom you're not "in love" anymore, or get out and look for another "in love" experience.

I believe that God wants us to grow in this life. Falling in love is easy - it's happened to all of us and we all know how little effort it takes to maintain a relationship when it is in that stage. Sure, it's wonderful and fun, but we don't really learn anything from that experience. I believe that God wants us to choose to love. Choosing to love requires effort, but it is where some of our greatest potential to grow as human beings lies.

I highly recommend this book. I prefer the audio CD version because Dr. Chapman narrates it himself. He makes the book an entertaining listen. Chapman also writes from a Christian perspective. You can find his other books here.

Belief and Grace

Chapter ten made me reconsider the idea of grace. As Miller described his own struggles in becoming what it takes to be a "good Christian", what he would die for, and his admiration of his friends Penny and Andrew for their own passion about particular causes, I thought about my own beliefs.

I realized after reading this chapter that the word "belief" has never held much weight with me. What do I believe in? Well, I believe that I am typing this blog post, I believe that the sun is shining today, I believe that I have a long list of "to dos" that I must take care of this week.

But the word "compel" is another matter. To think about things that are compelling to me opens up a whole new universe for me. What do I find compelling? That means I'm powerfully attracted to them. When I think of things that are good, noble, and even extraordinary, I still may not find them compelling. To me, that is.

For example, when I think of becoming a tutor or a Big Brother, I think, 'Wow, those are great ways to spend one's time and make a difference.' But I will never do them. I have no interest in doing those things. So I ask myself why that is. Am I lazy? Am I selfish? Perhaps, but it may also because God wants me to do something else.

When I turned 41 last month, I had a realization. All my struggles and trials have led me somewhere. It's probable that, for the remainder of my life, I'll more or less be the kind of person I am today. It's not all the fireworks I thought it would be and I've certainly made some decisions and blunders that will color the rest of my days, but my life is not bad. I'm essentially a good person who is dedicated to learning about and appreciating life's mysteries. I will do some good things before I'm done.

I'm OK with all of that. I believe that I have accepted God's grace.

So, I guess I do have one real belief.

A Stake In The Sand

Tonight I went for a long walk. I thought about Don's struggle at the end of Chapter 9, Amy's disillusionment with Christianity when she was a teenager, and the passage from Kings. I thought about the spiritual irritation I feel so much of the time. I realized then that I was only thinking about my irritation. I did not feel any irritation as I walked the quiet, dark streets in my neighborhood. In fact, I was at peace.

In an earlier chapter, Don talked about the times when his faith came easily. At one point, he was reading his Bible regularly and even marveled during one reading session about how easily God had come to him and how good he was feeling. He wondered why it couldn't always be that way - why those good times with God and his faith so often slipped away. Sure enough, a few months later Don was back in a funk and doing things he wasn't particularly proud of and felt bad about.

I contemplated this same thing tonight. Why on some (rare) occasions my spirit just soars, or I at least feel contentment. The times when I don't have to hunt, dig, or beg for it to come.

Life is a funny thing. Sometimes we just have to let our hair down and let all of those bad things loose. Those "bad" things may even be quite fun. It is how I think about that passage from Kings. If all was still all the time, maybe we couldn't hear that quiet voice. Maybe the ruckus helps us to find the light.

Peace Unveiled

Chapter 2 seems to be a favorite among us! Miller's thoughts about his own self-absorbtion resonated with me; living in a house full of mirrors that causes him to see nothing but himself at every turn. So much time thinking about and reassuring himself and not leaving much room in his heart and mind for anyone else.

Self-absorbtion is another of those time wasters that Malady talks about (the passage she noted also caught my attention). A lot of my own time is spent thinking about trying to be a good person that I end up spending comparatively little time actually being good.

What we've read so far in Blue Like Jazz makes me reconsider what it really means to find peace in my life. I've realized that I spend so much time using self-reflection as a protective cocoon for myself that I spend less time engaging the world in a meaningful way. It's ironic because making a difference in the lives of others is the whole point of self-reflection. As I overheard my wife say recently, "You're cheating the world if you don't become all that you know you're capable of."

So here's what I'm adding for Lent: every month I will sign up for two classes, charitable functions, or some other activity that makes me get out of the house to work with and think about someone else for a few hours. It's measurable and I'm pretty sure I can do it.

Here's to making that a permanent condition.

Night Reading

I've picked a new nighttime activity in recent months and I wanted to share it with you. Throughout my adult life I've never been able to read at bedtime because I always immediately fell asleep. But these days I have more trouble falling asleep, which is partly why I've been able to take up reading at that time of day (or night, as it would be).

I've found that the Bible is the perfect book to read just before bed. The chapters are very short and I can cover two or three of them in just a few pages. I like that aspect of the Bible because I can only last for a few pages before I get tired, but still feel like I'm accomplishing something.

But what really matters is the way the Bible makes me feel, especially as I end the day. Amy, your post today made me think a lot about what the Bible does for me. I use the original 1611 version of the King James Bible because its use of the English language is unlike anything I've ever encountered.

I didn't expect that reading the Bible would be such an experience. As I'm going along, I feel a kind of quiet wisdom emanate from the pages. It's as if the book takes on a persona and tries to communicate with me. It's the kind of communication I can only sense during times of focused attention and solitude.

All of this may sound strange, but I also like the size and weight of the book, how the pages feel, the look of the text, and even the way my book light shines on it. It is remarkable and was completely unexpected. It's very comforting, I have to say.

I'm rereading Ecclesiastes right now and will post about it when I'm finished. I would be interested to learn about any experiences you've had with reading the Bible.

Hard or Easy?

Dear Malady and Purl,
I finally finished reading Mere Christianity and I enjoyed the book. A chapter that really intrigued me in the final book was the one called "Is Christianity Hard or Easy?" Lewis talks about the necessity of giving up your "natural self" to become truly good.

I really identify with the struggle that happens between my natural self (the selfish part of me that wants to let myself go wherever my thoughts and feelings take me) and the part that wants to grow and leave the world a better place.

Lewis says the natural self is perfectly..., well, natural and is a part of life. That you have to indulge it to keep your batteries charged up. But then he talks about "killing your natural self" to move into a realm of true enlightenment.

I'm wondering if and how this is possible. Have you tried to do this, even in some small way? If so, could you share any of your experiences? I would like to know how you interpret what Lewis is describing here.

Forgiveness

Dear Malady and Purl,
I've finished the third book in Mere Christianity. I would like to go back and talk a little about the chapter on forgiveness. There is a paragraph (p. 119 in my book) that I found quite powerful:

"I have often thought to myself how it would have been if, when I served in the First World War, I and some young German had killed each other simultaneously and found ourselves together a moment after death. I cannot imagine either of us would have felt any resentment or even any embarrassment. I think we might have laughed over it."

Lewis talks a lot in this chapter about "loving thy neighbor" and, for the first time, I think I understand the significance separating a dishonorable action from the person who committed it. When I reflected upon Lewis's example, I thought of something that I had once done. It wasn't a single event, but instead a series of instances that had taken place over time.

It began when I told someone something that was going to really hurt that person. And it did. I wasn't prepared to say it, but I thought it the best thing to do at the time. I'm not sure I even knew then that what I said was going to be harmful. I had opted for honesty, not necessarily because I value honesty, but (for better or for worse) because that quality is an instinctual part of me.

My ignorance and inexperience lead me to repeat this thing to other people I cared about. In the end, things seemed to turn out mostly OK, but my actions inevitably colored my relationships with everyone involved. All of these these people are important to me and I have already spent a lot of time trying to make things right with each of them. Reading this chapter made me realize again that cultivating my sensitivity toward other people's feelings is paramount to the life I'm here to live.

But I find some solace in what Lewis has to say. I positively hate how I handled that situation, but I know in my heart that I was doing the best I could as I blundered. I was drawing from my own history, experience, and what I knew. I take even more solace in knowing that all of us gain wisdom through suffering. These are what give me hope that one day we'll be laughing over it.

-Gary

The Inconvenient Truth

Dear Malady (and Purl, I hope!) -

I just finished the final chapter of Book 2, "The Practical Conclusion." There is a passage in that chapter that I think parallels the thoughts you had in your last post:

"A Christian is not a (person) who never goes wrong, but a (person) who is enabled to repent and pick (herself) up and begin over again after each stumble..."

Your last post was an insightful interpretation of 1 Corinthians 13:11. For a waffling Christian like me, your message is a call to authentic adulthood. You discuss the "inconvenience" of faith and you're right, it can be distressingly inconvenient. Becoming a person of faith means making a conscious choice to become a "real" adult.

Becoming a "real" adult means deciding to not act on any whim, desire, or emotion that strikes you. Now that I've reached the ripe old age of 40, it's hard for me to imagine simply indulging my emotions and doing whatever I want. There was a time when I wouldn't have believed my saying so. That doesn't mean I don't feel the impulses to do whatever I want (believe me, I do), but I sometimes experience a kind of growth that leads to greater happiness if I abstain.

It depends on the situation, but I discover more often as I get older that when I just mindlessly charge ahead, I find nothing but emptiness on the other side. Being reckless doesn't do anything to help me find the truth about myself or my life. It's beyond just believing - I actually FEEL that finding some kind of truth about my life is what will lead to happiness for me. My sense is that your faith in God does the same for you. It's what I perceive when you say "I have to exercise my faith to get healthy and strong."

With that said, I think there times we have to indulge our whims and emotions to get to a new place in our lives. These are the situations that make life so bewildering to me; why can't I just pick the right thing to do? But our emotions give us our humanity and, as annoying and destructive as they can be, I have to say I'm really glad I "feel" all the things I do. Emotions are what make me alive!

Your discussion of our being "God's children" reminded me that He knows we're going to slip up sometimes and that's OK. Lewis, too, says that's part of being Christian - that we can "pick ourselves up after each stumble." Thank God (literally) for that.

-Gary

The Atonement

Dear Malady,
I just finished reading the chapter called "The Perfect Penitent" in Mere Christianity. Lewis talks about some people's complaint that Jesus's sufferings and death aren't meaningful "because it must have been so easy for Him" (p. 58). Evidently, this complaint stems from the perception that Jesus somehow had an unfair advantage over His fellow human beings.

However, Lewis goes on to ask, "To what will you look for help if you will not look to that which is stronger than yourself?" (p. 59) Though I'm still not sure if Jesus's death carries any particular meaning for me (because I am exploring), I certainly look to Him to help me with my troubles and ease my pain. I do so for the reason Lewis illustrates: that Jesus is stronger than me, that He can somehow relate to me as a human being, and that I am somehow 'right' with God; that He is my friend.

As a Christian, you surely see how the divine and the corporeal intersect. Is it important to you to show others who cannot see that intersection that the two are not exclusive? What does that intersection look like in your own life?

-Gary

Some Reflections

Dear Malady,

I’m putting my book down for a moment because I want to reflect on your last post. I’m interested in knowing more about how you feel like you’ve grown spiritually? Are there been specific moments or events you can share with me? When we first started this blog, I was anxious about discussing spiritual issues in the ways you and I have now begun to explore. But now, I feel perfectly fine with these discussions.

Now I’m at a point at which I’m asking myself, “What’s next?” I am still not sure what I want from a spiritual life, except that I want to somehow experience life more fully; being aware of every moment of each day, having an open heart for everyone I encounter, being more sure of myself, making decisions with clarity and confidence, and being more joyful. What do you want out of your spiritual life?

I’m intrigued by what you said about people turning to religion simply for comfort. In my own experience, I have mostly found that to be true, too. It troubles me to think that people so often do things to do little more than support or solidify what they already believe. At a minimum, there’s something really dull about that. To resist changing and challenging yourself and what you believe does something to insulate you from the world that is crashing around you. It really limits your experience.

What astounds me the most is when I talk to people who have traveled widely and I discover how limited their experiences often are. They come back from a trip and talk about all the places, people, and things they saw, but their thinking and approach to life doesn’t seem to have changed much. As I remember reading in Paul Theroux’s The Old Patagonian Express, “Travel is pointless unless you intend to change.”

Whether they have traveled or not, I’ve found it hard to find people who integrate their experiences into the growth of their own souls, or whatever they identify as that core part of ourselves that makes us human beings. To me, not sharing (or worse, not even contemplating) that part of your life makes for a lonely and ignorant one—a life that’s little more than a lot of discordant clatter and motion.
You had presented Lewis’s point that religion should start from a place of ‘discomfort and fear.’ The above pretty much describes how I understand his point and what you had discussed in your last post. More thoughts? Vituperation?

-Gary

Last Temptation

Dear Malady,
I like the Pascal chart. The "God exists/Ungodly life" intersection brings up something that intrigued me about The Last Temptation of Christ. It is this: Does God expect you to believe in Him in order to go to heaven?

I'm pretty sure Jesus didn't quit believing in God and that God was His father, but during the period Satan had duped Jesus and gave Him a human life after the attempted crucifixion, Jesus seemed to have given up on Himself and His purpose. What if Judas had never found and made clear to Jesus that Satan had tricked Him? Would Jesus have still gone to heaven?

I'm wondering about believing as a requirement to go to heaven because what if Satan took an otherwise good person and made God invisible to him/her their whole life? Why wouldn't God try harder to make Himself known and to show that person that he/she has a purpose for living?

I'm trying to determine to what extent the responsibility is mine to seek Him out. It seems that God would have to throw a person some kind of carrot so his/her interest is at least piqued. But if He never throws the carrot (or Satan successfully hides the carrot from a person for his/her entire life), should that person be disallowed from going to heaven? I'm struggling with this idea right now, but I'll keep sorting it out. In the meantime, any carrots you can throw my way so I can better understand this dilemma would be appreciated!

You discussed grace in the "Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God" post. I find a great deal of comfort in that explanation and it makes me believe that God would give me a break if I couldn't find a reason to believe in Him. I found Jesus's romantic love for a prostitute to be a profound combination of grace and humanity. I have always subscribed to the idea that one cannot help who one falls in love with (or just loves) and I thought it was pretty courageous to pursue that relationship so openly in Temptation. And that Jesus challenged social propriety and defended Mary in front of others showed that He was the stand-up kind of guy we should all aspire to be.

A last point about the movie, what you've talked about, and what I've run into in the second book of Mere Christianity: I'm not sure Satan was obviously evil in The Last Temptation of Christ. This is an idea that I first encountered in John Milton's Paradise Lost (which I would like to add to our reading list) and it has rocked my world ever since.

Satan was clearly a bad egg in that he lead Jesus astray for many, many years after the crucifixion. Getting married, having children and a home was not what God had intended for Jesus - I understand that. But Satan allowed Jesus to experience a kind of human happiness that, I think, helped him to better understand what humans need in their lives to want to get out of bed each morning and march on. This seems to support Lewis's explanation of the Christian view that everything has its origins in Good - including Satan. I'm interested to know how you think about this issue.

Jesus's expression of joy on the cross at the very end of the movie left me unsure of what to ultimately think, however. Is the purpose of living to grow the soul or pursue happiness? I think the best-lived lives are those that combine both. But why does it remind me so much of your "walking the tightrope" image...?

An 'Aha!' Moment

Malady, I read something in Chapter 5 (We Have Cause to be Uneasy) that made me discover why I have so often pushed God away. At this point (page 30 in my book), Lewis is entertaining the idea of God as an impersonal absolute goodness. He is talking about a God who is backed by the Moral Law:

"There is nothing indulgent about the Moral Law. It is as hard as nails. It tells you to do the straight thing and it does not seem to care how painful, or dangerous, or difficult it is to do. If God is like the Moral Law, then He is not soft. If He is a pure impersonal mind, there may be no sense in asking Him to make allowances for you or to let you off, just as there is no sense in asking the multiplication table to let you off when you do your sums wrong. You are bound to get the wrong answer.

You may want Him to make an exception in your own case, to let you off this one time...We know that if there does exist an absolute goodness it must hate most of what we do. This is the terrible fix we are in. If the universe is not governed by an absolute goodness, then all our efforts are in the long run hopeless."

I have never been an atheist, but I am so full of flaws and inconsistencies that I have never had the energy or desire to try to please some omnipresent, omniscient being whose presence I could rarely sense (let alone prove to myself). I didn't think I did this to the extent I do, but I guess my SOP has mostly been to please myself.

As a Christian, is it the sense of 'becoming' or something else that gives you the energy to continue being a Christian? It would help me a great deal if you could tell me how you reconcile in your own life what Lewis is saying in the section I've included above.

The Beginning Part Two

Dear Malady,

I'm not sure yet if I identify myself as a Christian, but I think I understand how you and Lucy feel. My mind and spirit often feel agitated and restless because I've spent most of my life convincing myself that there is some single truth I should be looking for. I'm finally beginning to see that my life has many truths and many of them are incompatible. Whether it's looking to God, discovering through meditation, or some other way, I want to reconcile the things that trouble me so I don't harm myself or the people I care about.

Like you, I grew up as a Christian. My family is Presbyterian and my parents were sporadic about attending church. It's clear to me now that my parents felt that going to church was more a duty to fulfill than it was celebrating their relationship with God. Nor was my family ever a joyful bunch, so happiness and a real love for anything (let alone going to church) wasn't ever instilled in me. That I never found a community in which to cultivate my faith and spirituality doesn't matter to me now. I can't do anything to fix that stuff, so I'm only concerning myself about this point forward. Perhaps that will change as we go forward.

You are traveling a difficult road and your soul is going to grow a lot in this life. Right now, I am just trying to find peace in my life. However, I've exhausted the resources that I've drawn upon in my own experience and education to find that peace. Something still isn't right and I want to spend the second half of my life searching for peace and reconciling the truths of my life, whatever they may be.

I join you with a glad heart.

Gary