Traveling Lessons

Have you ever had the opportunity to take a vacation, and tried vacationing at home instead of getting away?  In the past, as a homebody, I have been tempted to stay put when vacationing.  I love home– not just the house, but the feeling of comfort, rest, and security in my family’s home.  But, over the years, I’ve learned an important lesson– there is a depth of refreshment that only a change of surroundings can bring.  No calls, no emails, no home repairs, no stacks of mail and papers that inevitably crowd life at home.  The advantage here is obvious– getting away is an escape from the reminders of tasks yet undone, of pressures and responsibilities lurking in corners within the home.  But there are more reasons why travel is a healthy and welcome change to the pace of life.  I’ve reflected on why this change of surroundings is so nourishing and necessary.

Recently, my family took a trip to Washington D.C.  The trip was anything but restful– full of miles of walking, museum tours, metro rides, security check-points– but although tiring, it was nonetheless refreshing.  Part of the refreshment was due to the complete immersion into something different than the normal details of life.  I have always loved history, and this binge on the history of our country was a treat for my soul.  So, when planning any kind of getaway, I like to think of immersion into some area of passion as a healing opportunity to see the forest instead of the trees in life.

But there is more.  There is something about the simplicity of being a traveler that is refreshing as well.   Living out of a suitcase, with perhaps one or two books, just a few changes of clothes, not a lot of familiar distractions, reminds me of what matters most in life.  I am reminded of the classic Greek myth of the fox and the hedgehog here.  The fox is a sleek, clever animal– quick, able to dabble here and there, focusing on many things.  Often, this is like our busy juggling routine we call life.  The hedgehog, on the other hand, is a very slow and simple animal.  The hedgehog doesn’t trouble himself with many things, but tends to focus on one main thing, methodically plodding through the simple day.  I want to inject more hedgehog into my life– opting to do a few main, important, god-honoring things well rather than juggle a hundred and one less important things.  When traveling, the sheer simplicity of life out of a suitcase refocuses my soul on what matters most.

Further, being a traveler reminds me of the hardships that are a necessary part of life.  In fact, the English word travel comes from the French “travail,” meaning labor or hardship.  When we travel, we engage in an energy-intensive journey, as opposed to being a tourist, where we buy a catered adventure free of the nuisances that fill out the spectrum of life experiences.  I tend to slip into a mode of living where I expect leisure and rest to be the daily right.  But travel reminds me that energy-intensive process is often as important or more so than the closure of the product.  It is not just the museum that is significant, but the trip to the museum with the children on the metro that completes the experience. 

It is no coincidence that traveling imagery is often used to describe the spiritual life.  The classic John Bunyan story, Pilgrim’s Progress, reveals the process of pursuing God’s goodness amidst a life path of perils, temptations, hardships, and pains.  The pilgrim learns trust, and discovers that the hunger for more of God is what keeps his wayward heart from the wrong path.  Surely, it is the arduous journey that yields these lessons, not the mountaintop or the comfortable evening at home.  So, I enjoy my time at home, but I enjoy it even more when mixed with a measure of traveling lessons.

Freedom From, or Freedom For…

“I stand at the altar of Almighty God, with hatred against any form of tyranny over the mind of man.”
–Thomas Jefferson, etched into the ceiling of the Jefferson Memorial.

Recently, my wife and I had the distinct privilege of taking our children on a vacation to Washington D.C. Inspired by the history, deeply moved by the monuments, humbled by the sacrifices made by so many to secure our freedoms, we will never forget the experience. In the Jefferson Memorial, we stood amazed at the grandeur and profundity of the place and its significance—for our country and for all of us who are privileged to be Americans. These passionate ideas springing from the pen of Thomas Jefferson set ablaze not only the hearts of our founding fathers, but also inspired other nations as well with the life-changing vision of true freedom for all people. We soaked in the gravity of these words while in the rotunda of the Monument.

Upon entering the gift shop in the basement of the Memorial, however, I overheard a discussion between two people that made my heart sink. They both agreed that they had discovered the most glaring example of tyranny over the mind—religion! In their view, it is religion that is the most cruel form of tyranny over the mind of man, and that Jefferson was standing passionately against organized religion; that it is religion that is the great evil and opponent of freedom and its oppressive nature that makes separation of church and state a necessity in the mind of Thomas Jefferson. The discussion, I believe, reveals much about our culture today.

On the one hand, the current feeling in our culture is that religion is oppressive. I know this to be true in some forms of its expression. Throughout history, religious fervor can be expressed in ways that stifle joy, inquiry, and heart freedom. Judgmental attitudes, arbitrary rules applied without grace, and unforgiving attitudes have made the religious experience of some a tyranny over the mind and heart. However, this is not the sole sin of religious institutions. Over the years, I have seen oppression and tyranny take many forms, both secular and religious. Educational institutions, political entities, corporations, governments—all of them can become tyrannical. Indeed, Thomas Jefferson would have opposed religious tyranny—but not religious tyranny alone.

On the other hand, I have experienced forms of religious expression that are wonderfully freeing, empowering, inspiring, and life-changing for the good of others. I have found the message of Jesus Christ to be freeing in this way. Jefferson realized that religious belief, properly expressed, is a great fountain of good. His own heart was stirred by a belief in God that gave substance to his passions. Notice in the above quote his reference to standing at the “altar of Almighty God.” Further, consider the following quotes from Jefferson:

“God who gave us life gave us liberty. Can the liberties of a nation be secure when we have removed a conviction that these liberties are the gift of God?”
–Notes on the State of Virginia, etched in the Jefferson Memorial.

“We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain inalienable rights, among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness…”
–The Declaration of Independence.

For Jefferson, his belief in God, though expressed differently than my own, was central to his belief in personal freedoms and rights. Thomas Jefferson was a staunch Deist, who believed in a distant, impersonal, and uninvolved God. Jefferson was very much a child of the Enlightenment view of God. Nonetheless, to say Jefferson was unreligious or antireligious would be a mockery of his personal beliefs. His convictions about personal, universal freedoms and rights were anchored in the concept of their being installed by our Creator. The divine origin of these rights is what made them unalterable and self-evident for Jefferson. In other words, it was as though Jefferson was warning, “No person or government should mess with what God Almighty has created in the heart of humanity.” I am NOT saying that we should require all people to have a belief in God (such a posture would be the tyranny against which Jefferson warned). What I AM saying is that freedom to worship God and respect for such religious belief are the overflow of Jefferson’s ideal.

Thomas Jefferson was deeply passionate about freedom. But it was not freedom from religion, but freedom for religion. His goal was not to eradicate religion. One need only consider figures like William Wilberforce in England or Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. to know that positive religious belief motivated some profound and good changes in the world. The reason Thomas Jefferson wanted religion and state to be separate was to protect religion from state coercion or control. Indeed, I too passionately stand against all forms of tyranny, religious or otherwise. But let us not throw the baby out with the bathwater where religious belief is concerned (thinking religious belief is inherently oppressive), rather let us show respect for passionate religious belief expressed in love as a harbinger of profound human advancement.

Reframing Work

Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and…play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do. …There are wealthy gentlemen in England who drive four-horse passenger-coaches twenty or thirty miles on a daily line, in the summer, because the privilege costs them considerable money; but if they were offered wages for the service, that would turn it into work and they would resign.

–Mark Twain, Tom Sawyer.

A powerful engine for personal change is in counseling what is called “reframing.” Reframing is the conscious redefining of a situation that can profoundly change our attitude about it for the better. Often, it is the way we perceive a challenge that affects our will to see it change. One counselor I knew, for example, met with a woman who had painfully endured the loss of her son. Her friends had been telling her right away to “get on with life,” and “get over it.” After several years, she felt hopeless and stuck in her intense pain. Upon hearing her story, the wise counselor gave her a surprising assignment: he asked her to go home and grieve! He told her to write a grieving journal, to cry, to share her pain with others. Within weeks, she felt improvement. Why? She needed permission to feel bad, to grieve. In a sense, the counselor reframed the pain she had felt– her friends had made her feel the pain was a nuisance, a dysfunctional problem. The counselor reframed it into a God-given love of a mother for her son broken and needing to be felt. Healing came through pain she now had permission to feel. Reframing.

This concept of reframing is applicable to much of life. How you and I perceive our challenges greatly affects how we tackle them. Is it a mountain or a molehill? Is it a duty or an opportunity? Is it another cloudy day robbing me once again of joy like an Eeore. Yet another item on the list of complaints. Or, is this challenge an expected new opportunity to demonstrate patient endurance and persistence? Reframing.

Recently, in our church, I concluded a series of teachings on peacemaking. One of the profound lessons of the peacemaking study was that conflict, though unpleasant, is actually an opportunity– to learn about myself, my needs, my weaknesses, my pet agendas, my flaws. It is in the crucible of conflict that I learn to trust in the peacemaking God more, to work through my own selfishness and control issues, and to sort through the profound and humbling nature of forgiveness. Reframing.

In his classic novel, Tom Sawyer, Mark Twain paints a picture of young Tom as a restless adventurer eager to get out of work whenever possible. When commanded by his aunt to white wash a long stretch of fence, Tom discovers a quality of human nature that is a powerful force for motivation– if a task is a chore, dutifully to be done, it is a burden we will go to great length to avoid. But, if seen as an enviable opportunity, we’ll make great sacrifices to have the privilege of doing it! When Tom reframed the white washing chore into an enviable privilege, he saw his friends actually paying him for the honor of helping. Soon, the crafty Tom was sitting back, with an ever-growing collection of trinkets paid to him by friends eager to white wash the old fence. Reframing.

Though the Tom Sawyer account is one of manipulative laziness, the same sort of reframing can spawn admirable work in our own minds. In my family, we strive to have a weekly evening of family time reserved for fun, games, prayer, and memories. One such family evening, instead of focusing on fun and bonding time, my wife and I decided to do outdoor work on our property with the children, followed by a discussion about what we learned. Hauling big branches up a steep hill, clearing an area of unsafe rocks, picking up trash, the kids were thinking, “What type of family time is this?” But in discussion later, we asked the children the question, “Does family time always need to be playing games and being entertained?” We spoke of the profound way in which togetherness as a family sometimes means hard work together, expending energy to accomplish something good. Over the years, I’ve heard some people say, “Oh, I don’t get involved in church or community volunteering because family time is more important.” In my mind, this is a false dichotomy. How is spiritual or community involvement suddenly at odds with family? They should be melted into one. Reframing.

Stoutness of Heart

Affliction is the good man’s shining time.

–Abigail Adams, quoted in 1776 by David McCullough

The heart is a bloom. It shoots up through the stony ground.

–Bono, U2

I recall having a deep discussion with two of my children a few years ago about a concept we do not hear much of today– being “stout-hearted.” If you read much Christian literature from the Reformation period, you’ll find references to someone being “stout-hearted.” In our family discussion, my son was apt to think stoutness of heart to be a physical quality or a set of skills or abilities one possesses. But stoutness of heart was and is much more. It was more than mere courage and ambition, though both of these admirable qualities are under its umbrella.

Stoutness of heart is a quality of character involving an unshakeable resolve to pursue what is right, regardless of the hardships involved. The determination to pursue what is good and right even when no one is looking. The ambition to pursue what is just and honest even when others snicker and jeer. The love for what is noble even when those around you compromise or pursue other ends. Notice, such depth of character involves more than a mere cold adherence to duty. Doing what is good and right, truth-telling, and honoring God and others will grow over time in my life and endure through a heart celebration, not through duty alone. In this way, stoutness of heart is a groomed quality, built over time, not simply a skill or talent genetically inherited.

How do we develop stoutness of heart? How do we groom it into our families? First, I believe it involves loving the truth in our own hearts. Looking for moments to celebrate on a daily basis the truths that would guide us through life. For me, memorizing Scripture and reviewing key truths regularly, savoring them, raising my heart’s esteem for what is right amidst all that is wrong in the world around me is crucial.

Second, stoutness of heart grows over time through clinging to precious truths amidst adversity. Nothing great will be accomplished without the determined pursuit of truth amidst opposition, apathy, physical difficulty, and emotional challenge. Not that we should ever invent hardships, as life will bring a full stock of them to our lives without our trying! Yet, we should not avoid hardship either.

A lesson in stout heartedness is evident in the American Revolution. The Continental Army led by General George Washington was in many ways a rag-tag group of misfits by the military standards of the day. A group of artisans, blacksmiths, coopers, tailors, and farmers, untrained and lacking military talent, they faced the most highly-organized and disciplines army in the world– the British Army. In fact, the first four battles of 1776 were disastrous, resulting in many questioning the leadership abilities of General Washington. By war’s end in 1783, about 25,000 Americans had died, which amounted to about one percent of the fledgling country’s population. Further, the troops were ravaged by illness; small pox ran like wildfire among the American ranks. So, how did the colonists win the war? What the Americans lacked in military discipline and training, they made up for in dogged pursuit of their ideals amidst hardship. As historian David McCullough writes…

It was an army of men accustomed to hard work… They were familiar with adversity and making do in a harsh climate. Resourceful, handy with tools, they could drive a yoke of oxen or ‘hove up’ a stump or tie a proper knot as readily as butcher a hog or mend a pair of shoes. They knew from experience, most of them, the hardships and setbacks of life. Preparing for the worst was second nature. Rare was the man who had never seen someone die. …Many were missing teeth or fingers, pitted by smallpox or scarred by past wars or the all-too-common hazards of life and toil in the eighteenth century.

–David McCullough, 1776, p. 34

Such stoutness of heart is not forged overnight. It is built gradually, through the daily, weekly, monthly building into my life of what is not just urgent, but crucial. The clinging to what is good and right will not always scream out for immediate attention. In fact, such truths are often subtle, easily overlooked. Here is encouragement today to distill in life what is precious and true and hold it passionately in the face of adversity. Here’s to being stout of heart…

Life in Technicolor

“If something is easy, you will not enjoy it, really.” Krzysztof Wielicki, Polish Mountain Climber.

“Behind every beautiful thing, there’s been some kind of pain.” Bob Dylan.

“A heart that hurts is a heart that beats.” Bono

“But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us.” Paul, 2 Corinthians 4:7

When I was a young man, I saw life in black and white, in monochrome. A monochrome image is one whose shades of definition are simply variations upon a single color. Mine was a monochrome world. I tended to appreciate only a limited range of values in the world around me. For example, in music and movies, it was the dramatic, bold, extravagant expressions that impressed me most. Often, I would hear of accolades given a particular musician and shake my head in wonder, as the artist seemed very vanilla to me. “What does everyone see in this guy?” was my common reaction. It was the flashy, the flamboyant, the maker of big waves that impressed me most.

But with age, I am growing gradually to live in color, in Technicolor. Technicolor was a film process developed in the 1930’s, used in famous movies like The Wizard of Oz and Snow White, that wowed audiences with its vivid tapestry of color. In a sense, Technicolor allowed moviegoers to experience the depth of the color spectrum we see in daily life. It is the appreciation of this spectrum that I am growing to savor. Subtlety of expression. I am coming with age to appreciate some of the musicians, for example, that I had once passed over. Valuing a tasteful and well-placed note and not just the speedy riff. Less is more where good music is concerned. More profoundly, I am gaining an appreciation for a quiet word well spoken, an oft-overlooked act of service, a tender expression in another’s pain, a cup of coffee with a friend and no agenda.

Why is this happening with age? I have long felt that growing older is a mixed bag of trials and blessings. On the one hand, we tire more easily, grow sore after the most innocuous of activities, and forget things more often. On the other hand, age gifts us with a better sense of proportion about what matters most, helps us to savor the simple pleasures, and provides a broader appreciation for subtlety. Part of my growing appreciation for the subtleties of life (and I assure you, I am very much still a neophyte here) comes through the very pain and difficulty, the very hardship and struggle, the very soreness and fatigue that I would think is the “downside” of aging. Famous American novelist, Willa Cather (1905-1947) wrote, “Hardship is the only thing that brings out the good in most people.” Yes, it is through the struggles, repeated mistakes, drop-dead sort of exhaustion and even exasperation of experience over time that I come to value God’s simple, more subtle blessings.

A handful of my favorite movies and songs, for example, are sad ones. Why? I don’t enjoy being sad. Why would I like these things then? It is what they stir within me. It is these movies and songs that cause me to care, to think, to examine my own life, and to savor God’s blessings. Singer Bono of U2 describes his love for the Blues in a similar way—it is in the Blues that the reality of life is captured. The Blues express the spectrum of life colors from the lofty ideals and unshakeable principles to the wrenching frailties and harsh realities of their application. We are a mixture of both bland and beautiful, of heroic and tragic, of ambitious and apathetic, of bold and fearful. I am beginning to learn that God’s richest blessings are indeed the subtle ones, meeting me in my bland, sore, tired, and everyday life. It is this that is helping me live in Technicolor…

When Shortcuts Are Costly

“Quick, show me the Mona Lisa! I’m double parked.”
–American in a hurry, Louvre Museum in Paris

All of us appreciate a good shortcut. Shortcuts can save us time, aggravation, and gas. I remember in graduate school a friend explaining a nifty word processing shortcut on the computer that has served me well every week of my life since. I am always looking for wise shortcuts that allow me to work smarter, not harder. However, there are some endeavors where shortcuts can be costly.

In the business world, for example, an apt criticism of modern business is that it is so short-sighted. Immediate profitability is usually the bottom line in most business decisions. Yet, there are abundant creative business ideas that require long-range, patient discipline to groom consumer taste for the product. Sadly, many great ideas die for lack of long-range corporate vision. A classic example is Starbuck’s Coffee. Love it or hate it, Starbucks is an example of a business that actually created a market for itself. Before Starbucks, American culture settled for an “off the shelf” style of coffee because it hadn’t tasted variety where coffee was concerned. Starbucks introduced a richer, darker style of coffee that was new and different, and sought to nurture an appreciation for this type of coffee within the culture. Obviously, with sometimes two or three Starbucks on many suburban streets, the strategy worked. Long-range thinking. Disciplined effort. Saying no to shortcuts.

There are other, significant areas of life as well that do not lend themselves to shortcuts. Most of them involve sacrifice and an appreciation for process. But our culture tends to shun process in favor of product, instant value over disciplined effort. Imagine a group of people trying to write a vision statement or to codify a set of core values; their temptation would be simply to take a mission statement from another group they esteem or simply to have one of their members write their statement for them. However, it is the PROCESS of writing the statement that is just as valuable as the final product, if not more so. It is in the process of discussion, disagreement, resolution, further refinement, and final agreement that ambitious and unified vision is born. I’m sorry, but such process defies shortcuts.

Important areas of life require disciplined and enduring action over time to produce the lasting and worthwhile affect we desire. Playing a musical instrument requires years of patient practice to make the rudiments instinctive, opening doors for creative, spontaneous, and enjoyable music. Beautiful dance requires years of practiced movement to make for the seemingly effortless performance. Scientific research requires careful and attentive experimentation and scrutiny to produce trustworthy results for advancement. Yet, I fear that our entertainment-oriented culture is losing its appreciation for discipline. Guitar Hero provides the thrill and exhilaration of successful musical performance without the years of dedicated effort. Virtual reality robs our appreciation for the mundane and necessary disciplines to enhance our ACTUAL reality.

Relishing The Rules?

Before removing any fence in life, you need to ask why it was there in the first place…
–adapted from G.K. Chesterton

Rules surround us in life. In nature, there are rules governing the movement of matter and the conservation of energy. Likewise in morality, there are rules managing right behavior and the treatment of others. When too plentiful or hurtfully applied, rules grow tedious. Depending upon their enforcement, rules can either protect us and cause us to thrive or cause us to shrivel and die. Perhaps because of the reckless and hurtful application of rules, the modern world is increasingly resistant to them. As a pastor, for example, I see more and more churches advertising that they are “Non Creedal,” or “Without Doctrine.” It is thought that firm beliefs and convictions hurt and divide people. Granted, I have seen how doctrines, convictions and rules have been used as hurtful weapons of control. However, we must be careful not to abandon rules solely because of their misapplication.

In the ancient world, cities boasted a curious feature very foreign to us today—walls. All ancient cities of any survivability had thick and high walls surrounding them. We moderns would find such walls confining, threatening, a detriment to our cherished freedom. However, in ancient times, such walls did not represent oppression from within, but protection from without. A wall-less ancient city was vulnerable to attack and destruction. In a similar way, moral rules rightly applied provide protection physically and spiritually.

The same principle we see in literature. British journalist and philosopher, G.K. Chesterton observed that every engaging work of literature must involve rules of good and bad, right and wrong. “You must never go into that tower,” “The ring must be returned to the foundry from which it was forged,” “The force surrounds us and guides us” – such warnings and principles in literature provide the structure we need for a believable story consistent with the way we know life to be. Any children’s story worth its salt, for example, has in the context of obedience to rules a Fairyland of joy, truth, and beauty, but also with disobedience the presence of despair, falsehood, and ugliness. Rules exist to protect from the harshness and destruction of reckless abandon and to provide a framework for true freedom through responsibility.

In his fine book, Recapture the Wonder, Author Ravi Zacharias describes an experience growing up in India. He and his young friends loved the game of tennis. Without money or means, they put their resourcefulness to work. They found an abandoned flat field in a community park behind their houses. Painstakingly, the exuberant boys worked for days to build a tennis court. They were filled with excitement to play this game they loved. Finally, after tireless hours of work, they had the playing surface all ready, with sheets tied to two poles for the net. Bursting with anticipation, the boys hit the court. But then, to their disappointment, they discovered a problem—they needed to see through the net to know how to hit the ball fair and in play on the other side. Not to be denied, they went back to the drawing board and tied sheets in strips to make holes to see through. But now, a new problem. Arguments erupted about whether the serve went through the holes, which they had made too large, or over the net. Still further, they had to have someone explain the rules of the game for doubles and singles. A startling and poignant life principle came out of this experience…

“The game is played not to protect the rules; rather, the rules are made to protect the game.”
–Ravi Zacharias, Recapture the Wonder.

Beyond Sentimentality to Action

Postmodern culture has been rightly criticized in recent decades for its relativistic approach to morality and ethics. Relativism is the belief that in our world nothing is objectively, universally, or eternally right or wrong, just different. Right and wrong are simply expressions of our culture’s preferences only, not objectively true moral categories. The problem with this view, however, is that it can never be consistently lived out. Experience, history, and personal conscience all point to the existence of absolutes in morality and ethics, even if they are not always agreed upon in detail. Now, it may be true that absolutes have been used as ramrods or clubs to abuse others, but the pendulum of culture is wrong to say, therefore, that such absolutes do not exist.

The pendulum of culture, especially in the university setting, always swings to extremes, and in its reaction to the abuses of modernist moral categories, postmodernism has shunned propositional truth to the extent that a work of literature or classical history is now seen not in light of the truth it conveys or the intent of its author, but solely in view of the affect it has on the reader. In other words, this “reader response” approach to truth asks not “what is the book trying to teach me?” but “what response does the book evoke within me?” Reader response is valuable, but it should not be considered to the exclusion of the objective meaning behind the book.

As with any cultural trend, Postmodernism gets it right in some significant ways too, however. The Postmodern focus is upon story over propositional fact, anecdote instead of statistic, and experience over textbook. I find this corrective helpful in many ways. Have you ever noticed that certain fictional books, articles, movies, or songs stir your heart about injustice and prompt you to care for others in ways you had not before? Good literature and cinema will do just that. Story has a way of connecting our hearts, creating empathy between otherwise disconnected souls.

One of my favorite stories has always been Dicken’s Christmas Carol. This fictional account, though ‘way out’ in its view of the world—chained souls roaming the night haunting the living at all hours of the night—conveys like few other stories what a transformed life can look like. In the Victorian England of Dickens, where the poor and handicapped were so ruthlessly forgotten, marginalized, and victimized, the story of Scrooge’s transformation touches the soul with a compassionate conviction that could never be produced by a hundred classroom lectures. Sometimes, story will stir us more readily than cold facts. I believe this is a quality of human nature and always has been.

You and I have seen some films and read some books that miss this mark, however, by being overly “sentimental.” Author Philip Fisher defined sentimentality in his book, Hard Facts: Setting and Form in the American Novel (1985) as “all that is cheap, self-flattering, idealizing, and deliberately dishonest.” Sentimentality is a shallow, artificial form of consciousness that is like a tumble weed, here today and gone tomorrow. Sentimentality uses a formulaic or contrived story that unrealistically produces flimsy emotions in the audience. These emotions may seem deep and stirring, but their short duration is evidence of their lack of value. They may draw a tear, but they never put our feet in motion. The proof is in the pudding of meaningful action or inspired life change from our emotions. When story is used well, it moves us beyond sentiment to action…

The Immersion Method

I went to the theatre
With the author of a successful play.
He insisted on explaining everything.
Told me what to watch,
The details of direction,
The errors of the property man,
The foibles of the star.
He anticipated all my surprises
And ruined the evening.
Never again!—And mark you,
The greatest Author of all
Made no such mistake!”

–Christopher Morley,
“No Coaching,” The Questing Spirit.

Living in the Rocky Mountains of Colorado is a unique, soul steeling experience. Last summer, while getting my mail on the mountain road one overcast afternoon, I felt a gray tunnel of clouds swirling overhead. BOOM! A deafening peel of thunder clapped right over my head, making me feel as though I were right in epicenter of the storm. I wasn’t under it, but in it. It was the difference between being a spectator and being a player.

Feeling this stormy sensation made an impact. An immediacy, a sobering closeness, a reminder of my own insignificance, but also a focus entirely off of me and immersed in the direct experience of nature. In some ways, I felt catapulted deeper into what praise and appreciation are all about. To appreciate beauty is not to do so as a distant bystander, but as a practitioner. At times when I’ve kept appreciation of nature, of people, or of God on the intellectual plane, at arms length, I have forfeited the true value and wonder of the experience.

When my family moved to a different state while I was in high school, I transferred from a German class in my old school that was taught in the traditional method—rote memorization and written assignments. In the new school, I plunged into a class where the teacher used the “Immersion Method” of language learning. Students were expected to converse in class, to be stretched by the constant strain of mental gymnastics—searching feverishly for vocabulary, verb endings, and grammatical structures to talk to each other and the teacher. Grace under pressure. I found it to be overwhelming, but became convinced it is the best way to learn a language. Appreciating God’s world is best done through the immersion method.

Author Ravi Zacharias, in his book Recapture the Wonder, writes that the first destroyer of wonder is anything that steals the mystery of life. Indeed, there is a legitimate place for mystery and enchantment, and to allow for them, to appreciate and even embrace them is not to destroy learning and knowledge. To the modern scientific mind, bent on finding quarks and strings and ultimate, all-explaining theories of everything, we shudder to think that there would ever be a legitimate place for the admission that we do NOT know something.   The quest for ultimate meaning and explanatory theories is commendable, and many who have engaged in such a quest have admirably done so maintaining a sense of passion and wonder.  However, our pop culture has grown, in the context of such advances, yawningly complacent where passion is concerned.  I would argue that part of the beauty, majesty, and artistry of God’s world is its mystery.

I once read the transcript of a debate about the existence of God between a Christian philosopher and an atheist. The atheist, a brilliant microbiologist, boldly asserted that if he were to fashion the human body, he could design it to work more efficiently than it does. For example, certain organs, he insisted, do not function as smoothly as they could, and the appendix is still a deep mystery as to its purpose. The theist responded by affirming the possible truth of this observation. “But,” he replied, “your position assumes that efficiency is God’s highest value. What if it were not primarily efficiency, but artistry that God was after most?” Indeed. Our modern lenses are too steeped in analytical quantification and efficient mass production to appreciate the artistry around us.

Love As THE Motivator

“Our ‘behavior’ will not be changed long with self-discipline, but fall in love and a human will accomplish what he never thought possible. The laziest of men will swim the English Channel to win his woman. …by accepting God’s love for us, we fall in love with Him, and only then do we have the fuel we need to obey.”
- Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz

Most often, when we think of love for others, we think of virtue, noble deeds, and kind words. We think love is simply something we ought to do, or feel, or say. Indeed, love is demonstrated through both actions and words; action offered alone bespeaks cold, unfeeling duty; but words in isolation are empty unless shored up by meaningful action. These are all crucial, profound thoughts where love is concerned. Yet, rarely do we consider that genuine love is not only a goal to achieve, but also the foundational motivator for all that is good.

Love enters my heart, suturing the soul, overcoming my fears and then, motivates all that is good in my life. Love continues to challenge me, stoking a fire of passion to reach beyond my instinctive selfishness to God’s higher purposes and others’ betterment. It is no coincidence that when Jesus of Nazareth was asked by the religious elite of His day what was the greatest commandment in God’s moral law of the Old Testament, He replied, “Love the Lord Your God with all of your heart, with all of your soul, and with all of your mind. And the second one is like it—love your neighbor as yourself.” Love for God and love for others. Notice, He was asked for ONE command, but He answered with two. Or did He? This is the crux. Love for God and love for others are not, nor can they be in competition, separated, or placed in different categories. Love of God is meant to breed love for people, and love that is genuine and thorough for people needs to flow out of the love of God.

What about when religion goes awry? The loss of love, or at least its marginalization, is the tragic core of religious corruption. When dutiful obedience rules overshadows the underlying motive of love, all is lost. Condescension, rejection, shame, and judgment walk hand in hand onto the central stage of religion when love for God and others departs from our lives. Love is indeed THE motivator for all that is good. Anything less than love as motivation is corrupting.

Now, don’t get me wrong, there are appropriate standards, rules, guidelines for a moral religious life. How does the presence of standards tie in to love as the motivating force? One author has put it this way—for every “No” I say in life, there should be a bigger “Yes” burning inside. We may ask if an action, word, thought is good. The answer can be found in whether it compromises love for God and love for others. My reason for saying “no” to immoral practices, profane language, and dishonest behavior is because they stand between love for God and love for others. Love is the bigger “yes” burning inside.