Occasionally, I get what feels like a grand sense of things. It is as if I get to see a landscape from altitude. As if looking down from 30,000 feet as though I were flying in a plane. I don't claim any "special" insight, I think it is just a function of being present in the moment and listening.
One of the venues where I experience this most is in preaching on a weekly basis and hearing what others are preaching in the same season. I hear commonalities in the intersections at which what I have been led to speak to in my faith community and where speakers are led to speak in other faith communities from all over the world.
I've experienced this phenomenon with some consistency over the past 30 years. At pastor gatherings, conferences, even simple lunch meetings, there are threads of similarity that appear with timely consistency. Now with the advent of social networking, not only has the frequency of these occurences increased, but the worldwide footprint of them has as well. Another instance happened for me just a few minutes ago.
Today, I shared with my faith community the thought that God has a hand in placing us in specific space and time for divine relationship and purpose. I asked people to consider how life might be different if, rather than thinking of us "choosing" our friends, to consider how it might be if our friends are perhaps "chosen" for us (to fulfill divine experiences). If we follow the opportunity, our friendships can be mutually gratifying and create transcendent experiences. I suggested that we have been "brought together" as a faith community for a divine purpose that is beautiful and good and greater than what we can merely achieve on our own.
A friend posted on his social wall that his pastor said the following this morning... "I didn't plant this church. This church planted me." Though I don't know the full context, that quote would have fit seamlessly in the gist of what I was sharing this morning.
Ironic? Coincidental? I want to think that it is more than that. I want to believe that we "live and move and have our being" in the God who is trying to lead people into relationship that is far greater than anything we can create for ourselves and it excites me to imagine where the grand scheme of things will lead us.
I'll keep listening.
What are you hearing?
Sunday, September 09, 2012
Friday, August 31, 2012
Connected
Do you ever get a sense of connectedness that you simply can't explain? It can be somewhat overwhelming and yet, comforting at the same time. Whatever the notion is, it seems to come from far beyond us and summons up deep recesses of what is real.
Some will call it Spirit, some may call it intuition, some may have other nomenclature for it. I find myself increasingly less concerned with identifying it and more compelled to listen to it.
For me, connectedness appears in random places and at unexpected times. This past Tuesday, while lunching with my younger daughter, I felt the connection in the face of a little child. A total stranger to me, she sat in her high chair with her parents on both sides of the table. For a long while, she didn't even acknowledge our presence, but then she turned around and looked at us. Both Ciara and I were drawn deep into her countenance. Her smile was adorable and she grinned at us with the sweetest of affections, but I felt myself almost falling deeply into her essence. It was as if her smile was the cover of the book and once opened, there were chapters of things to know and love. I've not yet talked with Ciara to ask her experience, but there was "something" there. We "connected" and then, as quickly as she engaged us, she turned around and began to play with a piece of garlic bread. Connection achieved, move on.
I've felt this connection as long as I can remember. One of my earliest life memories was of a waitress in a strange restaurant. I must have been no more than four years old, I remember the moment like it was yesterday. She did speak intentionally to me, but I don't remember what she said. It was something about her -- something beyond her -- that I've never forgotten. A 30 or 40 minute meal, a momentary gesture... and a lifetime memory.
And then there are those friends with whom the connection transcends the duration of acquaintance. Those friends you've "known" for perhaps only a few years, and yet the connection goes much deeper as if you've known one another forever.
What is that about? What are these connections? Is there something available to us that too few explore?
What are your experiences? What are your thoughts?
Some will call it Spirit, some may call it intuition, some may have other nomenclature for it. I find myself increasingly less concerned with identifying it and more compelled to listen to it.
For me, connectedness appears in random places and at unexpected times. This past Tuesday, while lunching with my younger daughter, I felt the connection in the face of a little child. A total stranger to me, she sat in her high chair with her parents on both sides of the table. For a long while, she didn't even acknowledge our presence, but then she turned around and looked at us. Both Ciara and I were drawn deep into her countenance. Her smile was adorable and she grinned at us with the sweetest of affections, but I felt myself almost falling deeply into her essence. It was as if her smile was the cover of the book and once opened, there were chapters of things to know and love. I've not yet talked with Ciara to ask her experience, but there was "something" there. We "connected" and then, as quickly as she engaged us, she turned around and began to play with a piece of garlic bread. Connection achieved, move on.
I've felt this connection as long as I can remember. One of my earliest life memories was of a waitress in a strange restaurant. I must have been no more than four years old, I remember the moment like it was yesterday. She did speak intentionally to me, but I don't remember what she said. It was something about her -- something beyond her -- that I've never forgotten. A 30 or 40 minute meal, a momentary gesture... and a lifetime memory.
And then there are those friends with whom the connection transcends the duration of acquaintance. Those friends you've "known" for perhaps only a few years, and yet the connection goes much deeper as if you've known one another forever.
What is that about? What are these connections? Is there something available to us that too few explore?
What are your experiences? What are your thoughts?
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
Trusting What You Don't Know...Yet
Our second (and last) daughter enrolled in her first semester of college this week; the classes have been chosen, schedule resolved and the credit card has been charged (ugh). Now, having two children in college, I rehearse in my head what I've heard hundreds of friends say through the years... "what with two kids in college and all..." Their reality is now becoming my reality and like them, I know we'll survive, somehow. I not abundantly sure how we'll make it, but I am confident we will (and with the other daughter's wedding coming in May 2013, the adventure is all the more exciting). Sometimes we have to trust what we don't know.
Looking for creative ways to fund all this excitement, I looked across my office to see the (literally) thousands of books that line one entire wall on the south side of the room. Surely there is a Half-Price Books location that might be willing to build an extra wing to accommodate my collection and give me a $1.25 for the lot! Yes... I'm actually thinking of thinning out my books. I've heard, "Necessity is the mother of invention" or perhaps the enlightenment of the dull.
All those books have meant many things to me over the past 35 years. Thousands of dollars spent on an ever-increasing collection of wisdom, knowledge, understanding and experience from hundreds and hundreds of other people. That wall of books is an intimidating display of dedication to not only the discipline of writing, but to reading as well. To say those books represent a certain degree of ego definition would not be an overstatement. Every author has ego invested when they venture into the world of publishing (they have to believe they have something to say). But ego saturation is not exclusive to the writer, the reader has it as well. I confess I've previously taken pride in how many things I've read. And honestly, that is a bit messed up!
Financial ease may not be my only motive for liquidating a few titles. I've been giving thought recently to liquidating my "library" not only to gain some extra cash, but to free my mind and spirit, too.
Today, there's a book on any subject out there. It's a bit overwhelming, actually. Add to that the power of electronic search engines, and the saturation point of "information about" is just crazy ridiculous.
The issue with information saturation is that it is easy to forget the importance of trusting what you don't know...yet. All books and websites can do is give you a "formula" (as Anthony De Mello identifies it), a way of thinking or doing based on someone else and their experience. Of course, the thought and experience of another is not completely invaluable, but as soon as we have another person's experience or their "formula" in our consciousness, we are then experiencing something through their filters, not our own. It is conveniently tempting to simply replicate their experience in our context. And honestly, that is a bit messed up!
Trusting what you don't know...yet, means being willing to walk alone for a while. It means being willing to walk away from everything you've read, and willingly experience something for yourself. I've heard so many people back up their "new ideas" with so much of other people's experiences, I have to wonder if there is truly any originality in the thought. Collective knowledge and experience definitely build on one another, no doubt, but if we aren't willing to step away from the conventions of the known, we will never experience true innovation.
Walking into the unknown, without the benefit of another person's experience, may be one of the boldest things a human can do. Learning to trust what you don't know...yet, could be the bolder instructor.
Looking for creative ways to fund all this excitement, I looked across my office to see the (literally) thousands of books that line one entire wall on the south side of the room. Surely there is a Half-Price Books location that might be willing to build an extra wing to accommodate my collection and give me a $1.25 for the lot! Yes... I'm actually thinking of thinning out my books. I've heard, "Necessity is the mother of invention" or perhaps the enlightenment of the dull.
All those books have meant many things to me over the past 35 years. Thousands of dollars spent on an ever-increasing collection of wisdom, knowledge, understanding and experience from hundreds and hundreds of other people. That wall of books is an intimidating display of dedication to not only the discipline of writing, but to reading as well. To say those books represent a certain degree of ego definition would not be an overstatement. Every author has ego invested when they venture into the world of publishing (they have to believe they have something to say). But ego saturation is not exclusive to the writer, the reader has it as well. I confess I've previously taken pride in how many things I've read. And honestly, that is a bit messed up!
Financial ease may not be my only motive for liquidating a few titles. I've been giving thought recently to liquidating my "library" not only to gain some extra cash, but to free my mind and spirit, too.
Today, there's a book on any subject out there. It's a bit overwhelming, actually. Add to that the power of electronic search engines, and the saturation point of "information about" is just crazy ridiculous.
The issue with information saturation is that it is easy to forget the importance of trusting what you don't know...yet. All books and websites can do is give you a "formula" (as Anthony De Mello identifies it), a way of thinking or doing based on someone else and their experience. Of course, the thought and experience of another is not completely invaluable, but as soon as we have another person's experience or their "formula" in our consciousness, we are then experiencing something through their filters, not our own. It is conveniently tempting to simply replicate their experience in our context. And honestly, that is a bit messed up!
Trusting what you don't know...yet, means being willing to walk alone for a while. It means being willing to walk away from everything you've read, and willingly experience something for yourself. I've heard so many people back up their "new ideas" with so much of other people's experiences, I have to wonder if there is truly any originality in the thought. Collective knowledge and experience definitely build on one another, no doubt, but if we aren't willing to step away from the conventions of the known, we will never experience true innovation.
Walking into the unknown, without the benefit of another person's experience, may be one of the boldest things a human can do. Learning to trust what you don't know...yet, could be the bolder instructor.
Monday, July 23, 2012
Of Dusty Boxes...and such
Scrambling around the other day, I stumbled upon something up high in a lofty space; a nearly forgotten space. I had grown weary of this thing some time ago and, thinking I would only put it away for perhaps a season, days rolled into weeks, weeks slipped into years and before I knew it a considerable amount of dust had accumulated there. If someone had thrown it out, I doubt many others would have missed it. Though I would have been the worse for it.
It is curious how easily we dispatch things in our life. "Outta sight, outta mind," they say. And that is true, to a certain degree. Sometimes things simply get misplaced (like recently when my wife's laptop went AWOL for nearly a week at the foot of our bed under our strewn bedspread). But there are times we intentionally put things away, hoping maybe they'll never be missed and hoping they'll simply stay gone. But when they are important things, things that matter, they have a tenacious tendency for sticking around until we deal with them.
So, after spending considerable time blowing off the worst of the dust, and then taking a damp cloth to the task (I've always been kind of a neat freak), I opened the box and much to my surprise, what I had quietly tucked away was still waiting for me, much like an old watch who's battery still hasn't given up the fight.
I guess creativity is hard to kill. It may be as resilient as life itself. We may try packing it away, or using only a small portion of it just to manage along, but creativity doesn't like to remain in lofty, dusty, forgotten spaces. Creativity will wait you out. It won't cater to your fears and insecurities forever. It will patiently wait on you until you return to it.
There are some reasons I tucked a good part of my creativity away for a while, some of which I may explore here. But for now, the two of us are looking to get reacquainted again, especially when it comes to writing. Perhaps it is best we not create because we think we have something to offer, but rather, we create because we have something we need to receive.
Here's to opening dusty boxes...
It is curious how easily we dispatch things in our life. "Outta sight, outta mind," they say. And that is true, to a certain degree. Sometimes things simply get misplaced (like recently when my wife's laptop went AWOL for nearly a week at the foot of our bed under our strewn bedspread). But there are times we intentionally put things away, hoping maybe they'll never be missed and hoping they'll simply stay gone. But when they are important things, things that matter, they have a tenacious tendency for sticking around until we deal with them.
So, after spending considerable time blowing off the worst of the dust, and then taking a damp cloth to the task (I've always been kind of a neat freak), I opened the box and much to my surprise, what I had quietly tucked away was still waiting for me, much like an old watch who's battery still hasn't given up the fight.
I guess creativity is hard to kill. It may be as resilient as life itself. We may try packing it away, or using only a small portion of it just to manage along, but creativity doesn't like to remain in lofty, dusty, forgotten spaces. Creativity will wait you out. It won't cater to your fears and insecurities forever. It will patiently wait on you until you return to it.
There are some reasons I tucked a good part of my creativity away for a while, some of which I may explore here. But for now, the two of us are looking to get reacquainted again, especially when it comes to writing. Perhaps it is best we not create because we think we have something to offer, but rather, we create because we have something we need to receive.
Here's to opening dusty boxes...
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