Presbyopia Are Not the Eyes of a Child

By Eugene C. Scott

Grandson Linc looking at life as a child

A few weeks ago, as part of this living spiritually experiment, I decided to try and look at life as a child would. Kids are naturally spiritual, not yet dividing life into neat practical categories. Not seeing all with disbelief. I wanted to reclaim a child-like sense of surprise and wonder, to once again have child’s eyes. The trouble was, at somewhere around fifty, I wasn’t sure whether to wear my contacts or bifocals for this experiment.

But seriously, I’m no longer sure how to look at life as a child would.

So, I tried to remember what it was like, seeing things as if they were new. That’s when I ran into another problem that comes with being older.

Wish we could have done that

No, not plumbing problems. It took me a while to remember seeing something for the first time as a child. Finally, I recalled my family visiting the Civil War Museums in Gettysburg, PA. I love museums, even now. But as a nine-year old boy, all those guns and cannons, the theater that realistically depicted the fierce fighting, and the actual battle field mesmerized me. I’d never seen anything like it, especially memorable were the life size figures posted throughout the museum.

One in particular drew my attention. It was the figure of a man, a sergeant or something, in a Union uniform standing stiffly at attention with his rifle at his side. It looked so life-like, almost alive. My brother and I ignored our parents’ commands to come along as we circled this figure drawing closer until we were nearly on the pedestal with it. I noticed how its eyes glistened. Its face sagged with soft wrinkles. Its hand holding the rifle was so detailed that fine dark hair stood up on its fingers. I so wanted to touch it. Then my brother stopped right in front of the figure and drew himself up for the closest look he dared, reaching out one hand.

Suddenly the figure slumped, then raised his free hand to his mouth and coughed. My brother and I screamed and fell over each other trying to escape. The figure then laughed and waved to us. Of course the figure was alive, an actor. It was wonderful. My brother and I stayed and watched him scare other kids, the two of us laughing harder each time, until our parents drug us away.

What surprise, what wonder, what child-like life!

Granddaughter Addi looking and seeing

That’s what I wanted again. So, I set sail. And I saw some inspiring things. I noticed the blueness of the sky. Donald Miller called it “blue like jazz” in his book of the same name. We call it Colorado blue sky here. I savored my food, as if I’d never had peanut butter before. The two feet of snow in our yard glistened in the weak winter sun. I considered building a snow man but had a meeting to attend. A chickadee called out. I noticed people. Their smiles and frowns. But none surprised me like that day in Gettysburg.

All week long I looked. But something was missing. Nothing appeared magical. I’d seen it all before. Disappointment set in. I felt like bagging the whole living spiritually idea. It was too hard. Like so many other self-improvement projects. But I remembered living spiritually isn’t about mere self-improvement. It’s about transformation. There is a difference, though I’m a little unclear about what that difference is as yet.

I stayed the course. Nothing happened. Nothing I expected anyway.  But here’s what I wrote in my journal at the end of the week:

I don’t know how to do that [see with a child’s eyes] anymore. It’s as if it’s been lived out of me. I can only remember what it was like [and none to well at that either]. And I’ve told and retold, or relived, my favorite stories so much, I’m not sure I can see them as new. 

I have seen many familiar things [this week] I’m grateful for, however.

So, maybe the contrast between young and old is that at one end you wonder at the newness; at the other you’re grateful for what you’ve seen and still have. A tight embrace, sitting with your grown children, having grandchildren, knowing life-long friends, hoping to arrow and elk, reading familiar scriptures in a new translation, hiking for a few miles, not worrying about pretenses and appearances.

Are these things spiritual?

Living spiritually may not always mean looking for what I’m missing, but rather holding tighter to what I’ve got.

Maybe the kind of eyes to have aren’t necessarily child-like, but rather the eyes you presently have. Not looking back at what was, nor too far forward to what will be. But seeing what is. Maybe that’s what Jesus meant when he asked, “Do you have eyes but fail to see, and ears but fail to hear?”

Papa Eugene looking at life as he should

Not only is Eugene a Presbyterian minister at The Neighborhood Church but he does–in fact–have Presbyopia. Which, you can see by looking him in the eye, is not so bad. Though he has lost or broken five pair of reading glasses. Please join the Living Spiritually Experiment by following and commenting on this blog or by clicking here and liking the Facebook page.

The Premise to a Dangerous Life

Raise your hand if you’ve given up on your New Year’s resolution?

This year my mom and I decided to start the year off by doing the “100 burpy challenge”, if you don’t know what burpies are check out the video here.  The challenge is to start on January first by doing one burpy and then adding one each day.  I just did my 57 and am tired.  If you have been following my blogs you know that I have also commited to living spiritually.

Unlike the burpies, which are difficult in themselves, living spiritually has been a harder commitment to keep.  Doing my burpies only takes at most 20 minutes right now, but living spiritually can take all day and, well, it’s so easy to just shut down and live in a me centered world and not a God centered one.  I try to follow my own tips of being attentive, in position, and being submissive, which I talked about in my How Running and Living Spiritually Go Hand in Hand blog, but sometimes I just want to complain about my job.  I want to take a moment for myself.  Is that so bad?

Yes!  God wants more for us.

So raise both hands up if you have stopped living spiritually at any time this year.  Okay, you can put them back down.  Yeah, we’re only 58 days into the new year and I bet most of us have already been burnt out.  We’ve either looked so hard for God and he let us down, or our lives just got busy.  But I’m here to tell you not to stop now.  God has something great for us (just most of the time not what we expect); we just have to keep our eyes open.  I believe as we set off on this life long journey of living spiritually, yes I know I’ve said this was just the challenge for 2012, but I believe God is asking for more;  it is a lifestyle and not just a goal, we have to ask an important question.

What if . . . ?  The answer to this question could be the premise to life.

You decided to live dangerously.

What if I loved dangerously.

1st John verse 4 says, “let us love one another, for love comes from God . . . God is is love.  Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in him.  In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgement, because in this world we are like him.  There is no f ear in love.  But perfect love drives out all fear, because fear has to do with punishment.  The one who fears is not made perfect in love.  We love because he first loved us.”

If we are living spiritually, we are lovers in a dangerous time.  A world outside of God is a world away from love because as John writes, “God is Love.”

What would life truly look like without love?  That is a premise I would not like to live out.

Imagine a world without love.  You’d have to take away all love songs, love stories, and Valentine’s Day cards.  In fact get rid of Christmas and Easter, because God’s ultimate action of love was giving his son to us as a sacrifice.

A world without love would be void of sacrifice.

There goes anyone offering to help you change your flat tire on a rainy highway.

I believe random acts of kindness would be a thing of myths.  A world without love would be a self-centered world.  No one would live for anyone but themselves.

If we stop living spiritually we stop loving.

Without love, would it really be wrong to cheat, steal, and lie?  I mean, those people are just looking out for themselves.  True morality is dead without God’s love because there is no reason to treat other people with respect if our lives are centered on ourselves.  Respect would mean treating people as if they held value and giving people value would imply love.

If we stop living spiritually there would be no love and we’d end up alone, feeling empty.

Sunday, day number 57 of living spiritually, I went to downtown Denver with a couple of my friends.  It was cold out, so we walked 16th street mall rather quickly.  My friends are from out of town and they figured they couldn’t spend time in Denver without actually seeing it’s city life.  Most of what I saw were poor people trying to stand in the sun as if their bodies could soak up it’s warmth so they could stay warm for the night.  As we stood waiting for the free shuttle back to our car, a girl came up to us and asked us if we needed directions.  Being a Denver native I kindly said, no.  Boldly she asked if we could get her something to eat.  She didn’t want much, just a hamburger from smashburger.  We hesitated for a minute, not that she seemed dangerous, but our shuttle was coming, but she looked cold and so I said, sure.  Sometimes when you kick at the darkness you end up hitting your own selfish desires.  We walked into smashburger and my friends bought her a burger.  She said she was very grateful and told us that she’d run away from her uncle’s home because he abused her mom.  I hope that burger filled more than her stomach.  I hope it brought the light that only God’s love can bring to her.

Living spiritually means meeting other people’s needs and knowing that God will take care of the rest.

I’m thankful for my loving family and the warm bed I can crawl up in after I am done writing this blog.  I guess what I am saying is, if I stopped living spiritually my heart would be closed to moments like today and I wouldn’t be grateful for what I have been given.  We are called to live dangerously, so if you have given up on your New Year’s resolution or have faltered at living spiritually start back up.  All it takes is showing a little love, kicking at the darkness until it bleeds daylight.

What We Can Learn From Harry Chapin About Making Room For God

In 1973, Sandy Chapin wrote a poem about the disconnect in the relationship between her ex-husband James Cashmore, and his father, a New York City politician. A year later, after initially discounting it, her husband Harry Chapin witnessed the birth of his son. Inspired by the experience and in light of his wife’s poem, he wrote the now-famous song “Cat’s In The Cradle.”

After writing the ballad, he commented, “Frankly, this song scares me to death.”

Cat’s In The Cradle is written from a son’s perspective about his father who is too busy to spend time with him. Despite his many requests to join him in different childhood activities, his father continues to respond with little more than vague promises of spending time together in the future. Nevertheless, the son continues to admire him, promising that someday “I’m gonna be like you, Dad.”

At the end of the song, the roles are reversed. The father asks his grown-up son to visit, but the son responds that he is now too busy to make time. The father then reflects that they are both alike, saying “my boy was just like me.” The song’s chorus utilizes imagery related to childhood (hence the title, “Cat’s in the cradle”). You can read the lyrics by clicking here.

While other songs like Eve Of Destruction generate more consideration about its worthiness for the title of the Hippie Movement anthem, Cat’s In The Cradle at least deserves honorable mention. That song embodies the life trajectory of far too many Baby Boomers (and their kids!).

Every time I read the lyrics or listen to the song, my heart physically hurts. Perhaps it hits too close to home on a number of different levels. I see myself in the song as a son and a father. But I also relate to this song as a child of God. Fortunately, God always, always, always makes time for us.

Ironically, Chapin was either an agnostic or an atheist. In my walk with God, I so easily live as a functional agnostic, behaving as if God doesn’t exist. Even as a pastor and Christian writer.

The Purpose Of Lent Is To Make Room For God

Last Wednesday marked the beginning of Lent. The purpose of Lent isn’t to punish ourselves for our sins over the previous 12 months. The purpose of Lent is to reflect on how we live as functional agnostics, and then make room for God.

To a great extent, observing Lent is the attempt to avoid the pitfalls of this song. How often do we give God the leftovers of our hearts and priorities? Then at the end of our lives, we look back with great regret over the many missed opportunities.

Last month, I realized that I was giving God my leftovers. Despite my many “spiritual” activities, my soul was overwhelmed with a hunger  far deeper than the richest food could ever satisfy. I was becoming the anti-hero of Cat’s In The Cradle. So, I decided to begin my Lenten fast five weeks early. My focus isn’t mortifying my flesh–it’s creating room for God.

So I invite you to join me on this journey.

How do you make room for God? Please share it with us!

If you’d like to see a brief, interesting video about Lent, click on the video below.

Michael co-pastors The Neighborhood Church in Littleton, Colorado with Eugene Scott. He’s making room for God by turning off the sports talk and classic rock when he drives. Instead, he’s driving in silence or listening to worship music.

Living Spiritually Equals Giving Up Something Meaningful for Lent

By Eugene C. Scott

My world is the opposite of Paul Simon’s poetic world in his famous song “Sound of Silence,”

“Fools, . . . you do not know

Silence like a cancer grows.”

Like you, I navigate a sound filled, often noisy, world. Airplanes, cars, horns, radios, televisions, iPods, and worse are ubiquitous. The cancer in my world is noise. Maybe that’s why silence unnerves me. Moments of silence are rare, longer interludes downright scarce. I’m not sure what to do with silence. Paul Simon had a point. One never knows what will grow unbidden from silence.

Silence  Grows Accidentally

Like last Thursday morning. On my way to a meeting, I turned off my truck radio during a noisy, irritating commercial and in the ensuing accidental silence discovered something. There’s a lot going on–in and around us–that extraneous noise covers. In the first moments of this accidental silence, I began to listen to some of those things.

Silence Grows Old Memories and New Insights

The thump-a-thump-a-thump-a-thump-a of the seams in the concrete road beneath the tires of my truck struck a chord in me and, as if I had switched on an internal radio, I heard the rhythm of riding in my parents’ old Plymouth through Trinidad, Colorado, a small town with streets paved with bricks. The patter beneath our Plymouth that day told me a story. I remembered imagining workers, dressed in faded over-alls, sweat streaming down their tanned faces, laying paving bricks. Then I pictured carriages drawn by horses bumping over the newly laid bricks. History, though imagined, sprang to life for me.

The brick streets of Trinidad

As I drove radio-less to my meeting that Thursday morning, history sprang to life again, remembering my parents’ native home town, my family,  whole and together, as I had not seen them in years. Then suddenly it dawned on me. I have long been a story teller, even if it’s a story told only in my own head. That silence confirmed who I am today. I realized this love of story that so possesses me now, lived in me back then. And here I was doing it again, retelling myself the story of being packed in that old car, traveling to my grandparents’ house.

That accidental silence allowed me to relive a very sweet memory and add interpretation to it. The noise of my life amplified and symbolized by my radio would have blocked both the memory and the insight silence provided.

Silence Grows Uncomfortable

Despite that I had numerous meetings and several errands to run, I decided to spend the entire day with the radio off. I listened. A delivery truck next to me rattled and rumbled as it started from the light. Cars zipped by. My key chain swung and clicked against the steering column. I sat at the next light and waited in an uncomfortable silence. Bored and without thinking, I reached for the radio power button. It had been maybe five minutes since I swore off noise. But I caught myself.

The rest of the day repeated this pattern: reaching for the radio, stopping, impatiently waiting for another memory or insight to make the silence worth it. None came.

Why am I doing this? I thought in a moment of dead silence.

Because Living Spiritually is about listening. And you can’t listen with all that noise filling your head, I answered.

And having a conversation with yourself is better how? I countered.

I had no one to distract me from my foibles and insecurities. I realized it’s much easier to listen to Rush Limbaugh blame politicians for my life rather than face myself. This may be what Paul Simon referred to in his song. Silence may not grow like cancer but it grows uncomfortable.

Silence Grows Deep

Sometime during the day, however, I became aware that I was noticing people, wondering who they were, what loads they carried, what their stories were. I remembered friends who had once lived in the part of the city I was driving through. I prayed for these people as they came to mind. I recorded several story-lines for my novel on my iPhone at stop lights. Future blog ideas formed. My mind filled up. The boredom I had previously fought off with radio noise disappeared. I was enjoying thinking and interacting with my world. I found my mind racing through a world of ideas and wonders. In that once accidental silence, I had become deeply and fully present to myself and my world.

Silence Grows Longer and Purposeful

I didn’t grow up in religious circles. So I was oblivious to religious holidays beyond the ones that had secular spokesmen like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. But even after Jesus found me lost and alone sitting under a pine tree, the lesser holidays such as Lent rarely registered. Though I do remember a high school girlfriend who gave up coffee for Lent. I teased her and have never to this day given anything up for Lent.

That changed that Thursday of my accidental silence. By the end of the day, the idea of a longer silence had grown on me. I had become comfortable in it.

For Lent, why not give up extraneous noise and add purposeful silence? I asked myself silently.

I still think giving up coffee or chocolate or not wearing socks or not using your garage door opener for Lent is stupid. But I could come up with no good counter argument for this idea.

Today begins the holy season of Lent, a six week period of personal and congregational preparation for Christians to remember the sacrifice and new life Christ offers through it. As part of my experiment in living spiritually, I decided to participate in Lent for the first time by eliminating extraneous noise–radio and television. I am not just shutting off radio and television, however. I am adding, making room for, a purposeful, uncomfortable, deep, long silence.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll hear something that will do more than mollify me, but change me. Maybe God will even speak in some way.

As a talker, Eugene C. Scott admires people who keep silent. Fortunately, since he is co-pastor of The Neighborhood Church, people expect him to talk. And he’d love to hear how you plan to observe Lent or how you are faring with your spiritual living. You can join the Living Spiritually community by following this blog and clicking here and liking the Facebook page.

Expecting to Lose

Like so many of us, I have struggled with who I am, how I am defined. Throughout my life, I would give myself to certain interests and seek to be defined by them; whether it be dinosaurs, football, music, girls or even drugs. I would devote myself to be filled with every tidbit of info I could find about these interests and would find gratification in the search. But I have also felt a common thread through each of these things, I would lose.

Football has been the clearest example of this losing for me. My high school team lost 29 straight games during my career and went on to lose 20 consecutive more after I left. To be the captain of that team and to love something as much as I loved football, that hurt. I can’t even give words to how it felt to lose so much or how demoralizing it is to think we never had a chance. And to add to this, the team that I gave my attention to, the South Carolina Gamecocks, were perennial underachievers. The first time they ever won a post season game came 100 years into their experiment with football back 1995.

The gamecocks flirted with success here and there but only to find our hands empty. After a while, you just expect to lose. I have realized that the one word that best sums up my self-opinion is ‘loser.’ Football seems small compared to the failed relationships, the drug abuse, practically flunking out of college, and severe depression that became my story.

God has this thing for giving new names. The great persecutor of the early church, Saul, rode the meager christians out of town and into death, but God defeated him and gave him a new purpose and a new name: Paul. He would go on to write 2/3’s of the New Testament and was almost single-handily responsible for bringing the faith to all of Europe. And yet he never forgot his first name: ‘chief of sinners.’ And because he never forgot, the power of his new name was unsearchably immense.

God is giving me a new name too. Once a loser I now find myself living under the moniker of ‘victorious.’ Its a hard pill to swallow. Even though I sobered up, made it through college with honors, and have the greatest relationship of my life with my wife, I still am scared that I will lose it all, that I will lose even my new name.

And it was in the midst of this fear and uncertainty that I watched the Gamecocks win a second consecutive baseball national championship this past year. And not just win it, but do it in style. Pulling off near-miraculous plays when all seemed lost, breaking the all-time record for consecutive tournament wins, doing it against near-insurmountable odds like your best player playing with a broken wrist. And best of all, I kept expecting them to lose and I was so wrong.

This team comes from a place that knows nothing of winning. The school’s athletics seemed so doomed to lose that the local papers refer to the ‘chicken curse’ as stifling all the opportunities for victory. But this group of self-proclaim nobodies won in a way never seen before. And while most simply enjoyed the spectacle, I was floored with the sprig of hope these gamecocks were bringing me.

I am not destined to lose.

Life has thrown me some wicked curve balls, I’ve had my share of brokenness but my expectations are changing with my name. I am beginning to believe that I might just win. And that, my friend, is the greatest hope I can imagine.

Michael is the pastor of the Church at Argenta in North Little Rock, AR. He is still a hopeless gamecock fan and hopes their baseball team can pull of the even more improbable three-peat as season started this week. He blogs semi-regularly at A Sprig of Hope.

Accidental (American) Idols: What We Can Learn From Whitney Houston

Some things you shouldn’t get too good at
Like smiling, crying and celebrity

U2

Only 6 days ago, we discovered that Whitney Houston died in her guest room at the Beverly Hills Hotel in glitzy Beverly Hills, California. Details about her exact cause of death are sketchy, but we do know she was laying underwater in her bathtub when hotel personnel broke into her room. Ironically enough, at her final public appearance she sang “Jesus Loves Me.” Today, she’s in the presence of the man whom she sang about. Rest in peace, Whitney.

Whitney had it all: One of the greatest voices of all time. A life of luxury, the result of selling over 170 million records. Such overwhelming fame that her death caused a total restructuring of the next day’s Grammy awards television program. And, she reportedly had a faith in Christ and recently completed an appearance in a Christian oriented film.

Yet it wasn’t enough. Whitney struggled with addictive behaviors that ranged from alcoholism to cocaine abuse.

Accidental (American) Idols And The Cult Of Celebrity

With Lent beginning in five days, I want to explore the concept of accidental idols— practices and beliefs that may unintentionally stand in the way of us encountering God in a fuller way. Last week we looked at the fallacy of personal rights.

With Whitney Houston’s death staring us straight in the face, I thought I would offer another accidental idol that entices so many of us, including me.

The desire to be rich and famous.

The title of the hit TV show American Idol is by no means a misnomer. We all know the premise: an unknown but talented young man or woman sings before a panel of judges who awards the best performer with a juicy music contract. Former American Idols include Kelly Clarkson, Carrie Underwood, and Jennifer Hudson (who sang a moving tribute to Whitney the next day at the Grammy Awards).  American Idol is the embodiment of the American dream—talent, fame and the life of luxury.

That should guarantee happiness, right? Just ask Whitney.

Society emulates people like her. And if we lack her talent, we still seek her luxury and fame. Just look at people who are famous for being famous like Kim Kardashian, Paris Hilton, or the incomparable party crashers Tareq and Michaele Salahi. Incidentally, Tareq is suing Michaele for divorce and $50 million after she left him for someone more famous than him (Journey guitarist Neal Schon).

The fact that we know these names proves that our culture has gone crazy.

Even Christians Bow Down To These Accidental Idols

And, I must confess, the Christian community is no different. We emulate famous Christian speakers, pastors, and personalities. Nearly a year ago, my colleague Eugene Scott and I attended a conference for church planters (we co-pastor The Neighborhood Church, which we planted three years ago). One after another, the conference organizers marched famous authors and megachurch planters in front of us, offering us secrets to building an enormously successful church. And what was the measure of success? Big and famous. By the end of the week, I fought feelings that I was a failure because our church attendance hadn’t even surpassed 100 every Sunday.

Believe me, I fall into that trap more often than I’d like to admit. The idea of multitudes of people hanging on my every word–and cashing in on that influence–sounds pretty enticing. And isn’t that how we so easily define success?

Jesus, on the other hand, operated from a different set of values than most of us.

Before launching his ministry, the Holy Spirit led him into the wilderness for forty days where he was tempted by Satan. Not surprisingly, he offered Jesus the American dream–power, influence, and the life of luxury:

The devil led him up to a high place and showed him in an instant all the kingdoms of the world. And he said to him, “I will give you all their authority and splendor; it has been given to me, and I can give it to anyone I want to. If you worship me, it will all be yours.”

Jesus answered, “It is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God and serve him only.'”

Luke 4:5-8

Did you notice  Jesus’ response? The son of God, sent by God to save the world, didn’t seek to accomplish his purpose by being famous. Nor did he desire the life of luxury. It’s empty. Demonic.

The apostle Paul, who probably wouldn’t have been invited to my church planters’ conference a year ago, wrote, “Godliness with contentment is great gain” (1 Timothy 6:6).

Do you believe it? In my heart of hearts, I think I do.

Michael co-pastors The Neighborhood Church in Littleton, Colorado with Eugene Scott. When he was a child, he envisioned himself one day becoming a healing evangelist.

What the Hell is Living Spiritually?

An eagle in Waterton Canyon my friend Steve pointed out

On a recent hike with Steve, a chemical engineer friend, I explained how the day after Christmas God had prompted me–at least I think it was God–to actively seek out the God-created soul in daily life.

“I’m calling 2012 The Year of Living Spiritually,” I told Steve. Then I breathlessly recounted several exciting stories of God sightings I’d had and how I was trying to pry beneath the surface of things and see people and experiences for who and what they really were: created and loved by God. I told him how much this experiment was changing me.

“It’s an experiment,” I said, hoping scientific, engineer language would help him understand. “I’m recording my experiences in a journal every day and reporting them in a blog called The Year of Living Spiritually. And my son, Brendan, and I have started a Facebook page where we can all compare our Living Spiritually experiences. I’d love it if you took part?”

Steve is practical, concrete, down-to-earth, in short an engineer. He wiped his hand through his wispy blond hair and looked at me as if I’d just asked him to count how many angels can dance on the point of a needle.

“So, what is it exactly I’d be doing if I joined you in this Living Spiritually experiment?”

What the Hell is Living Spiritually?

Good question. I had no easy answer. As far as I know he’s not yet joined the exepriment.

I’m obviously not an engineer, but even I know spiritual things are intangible and therefore hard to see much less measure. My greatest lesson of 2012 so far is that talking about being spiritual is much easier than living spiritual.

I think several people involved in The Year of Living Spiritually have hit the same roadblock and are asking the same question. I know, for me, some days look and feel just like any other day I was not trying to live spiritually. And then when something spiritual does happen, I wonder if I’ve made it up or just have gas or something.

A Prickly Pear Cactus: Joy & Sadness

In the fall, Steve, my engineer friend, will often pause on our hikes and gather handfuls of wild chokecherries and we eat them while hiking. Other hikers rush right by. Another day he showed me we could eat the fruit from a Prickly Pear Cactus. I’ve lived around these cacti all my life and never knew you could eat the fruit. It was a delicious little gift on a mundane hike. Steve always points out wildlife and all kinds of fun things on hikes.

Often a daily mundaneness numbs me. So, I decided I’d turn Living Spiritually into a metaphysical scavenger hunt and daily search out and write down one joy and one sadness, like picking fruit off the side of the trail.

A Joy

Searching out joy may seem obvious. But there is a lot of trouble and hurt in our world, big and little. We get overwhelmed by it and maybe miss a sparkle of light in the middle of daily dimness.

The ancient Christians had a proverb: “whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”

Yesterday my joy was grilling steaks, tossing a salad, and drinking wine. Dee Dee says it’s the first meal I’ve cooked for her in 32 years of marriage. She smiled. I did too.

A Sadness

But life is more complicated than the glass being half-full or half-empty. Sometimes the glass is heavy.

Another biblical proverb says it well: “Sorrow is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of pleasure.” We learn and grow most from our pain and sadness, if we pay attention and break out of denial. The Prickly Pear is a cactus.

Reading through my journals, I notice I write about a couple of big life questions or struggles regularly. I’m insecure at times. I still haven’t finished my novel. This makes me sad. I wish I were more disciplined and more . . . . whatever. There is also evidence in my journals I have grown, however, if even slightly. I don’t think I would have, if I had ignored these issues.

What the hell is living spiritually? It’s taking a daily hike into your soul and noticing, tasting, the sweet and sour, joy and sadness of life. There’s a lot out there we don’t notice. Since that day I started recording one joy and one sadness, I’ve added some variety. Now I am also often writing about one memory, one thing I’ve found or lost, one thing I’ve learned, and a prayer to sum that day up.

Maybe now I can go back to Steve–and you–and ask again: “I’d love it if you took part in this Year of Living Spiritually.”

Eugene C. Scott may have only “cooked” one full meal for Dee Dee, but he has grilled entire herds of steaks and burgers. He is also co-pastor of The Neighborhood Church. You can join the Living Spiritually community by following this blog and clicking here and liking the page.

How Magical Is Our World: A Review of Hugo

“My friends, I address you tonight as you truly are; wizards, mermaids, travelers, adventurers, magicians . . . Come and dream with me,” Georges Méliés.

Hugo

Are we ever too old to dream?

How young is too young to want to feel important?

Does everyone, and everything, have a purpose?

Hugo, the Martin Scorsese film nominated for best picture this year (and my favorite to win it), tells the story of a young boy, Hugo, who for mysterious reasons, is living inside the walls of one of Paris’s grand train stations.  Hugo Cabret spends his time keeping time, literally.  Like the clocks he keeps, this little boy has a purpose.  He is in charge of keeping the many intricately made clocks in the station running on time.  And like each one of those clocks, which are made out of thousands of pieces, each one just as important as the other, Hugo has a purpose in the intricately made universe.  However, Hugo has dreams of a grander life than that of a clock keeper.

Like a clock who has lost its main cog, Hugo is broken; he’s lost his family.  However, Hugo believes he’s been given what he needs to be fixed; a broken automaton (a miniature machine made to look like a man, that in the movie can write messages).  He believes that by fixing the automaton, which is his last connection to his father, he will find a message from his father.

Like the broken automaton, Hugo needs fixed to fulfill his true purpose.  And I am going to step out  on a ledge here, just as clocks need fixed to tell time, just as Hugo needs fixed to become more than just a clock keeper, each person in the human race needs fixed.   Each person needs something to realize that they are a part of something grander and only Christ can take us on the true grand adventure.

Stuck inside the walls of the train station Hugo Cabret is as broken as the automaton he is trying to fix.  And yet in his brokenness, Hugo believes his purpose is greater than just keeping time, he believes he has a grand purpose in the world.  All Hugo needs to do to attain that greater purpose is fix his broken automaton, but like any good story as he fixes the automaton Hugo’s life becomes more complicated.

Spoiler:

In Hugo’s quest to fix the automaton he finds friendship.  Hugo’s story delves deeper than the quest to fix a machine.  And in the dramatic scene where he fixes the automaton, something magical happens, Hugo expects to find a message from his father, unfortunately he’s let down.  But in that moment of despair, Hugo doesn’t find the message he is looking for, but he finds what he really needs, friends and freedom from his cell of a train station.

How often in life, in our own stories, are our expectations not met, but we actually find what we need?

The message Hugo receives from the automaton draws him into a greater, grander story.  A magical story of brokenness and eventually healing.

No, we are not too old to dream.  No, age does not define importance.  Yes, we all have a purpose!

The movie hit me hard.  Our world is magical, just as there was a grander purpose for Hugo and his automaton, we all have a grander purpose.  In the every day happenings of our lives, there is something bigger going on.  Like Georges Méliés, an old toy maker in the movie who reluctantly befriends Hugo, says, we are all wizards, mermaids, travelers, adventurers,  and magicians.  We are all greater than we often give ourselves credit for and we have a grander purpose than we live for.  We are children of our creator and when we connect to him we find freedom.  He made us intricatly and then he sent us his son to fix us, to give us the message were are looking for.   The message of love and hope.

Our world is magical so why not open your eyes and dream magically.

I have decided to look for the magic, for God, in my every day.  I have talked about this in my living spiritually blogs.  I challenge you to do this with me.  As Hugo’s friend Isabelle says,”we might get in trouble,” but as Hugo responds, “That’s how you know it’s an adventure.”

Accidental Idols: The Fallacy Of Personal Rights

 “We need to share a secret with you,” Jill (not her real name) confided to my wife and me. “Seven years ago, Jack (not his real name) and I decided to opt out of paying our taxes.”

“Did you know that Congress never approved the Federal income tax?” Jack interjected. “The government is slowly taking all of our rights and freedoms away.”

As a result, Jack and Jill were constantly changing jobs, trying to stay a step or two ahead of the federal government who was hot on their trail to recoup what was owed.

Exercising their rights left them living in poverty, fear, paranoia, and bondage.

Most people don’t live in the extreme like this couple, but we all have varying beliefs about rights.

An Accidental Idol Exposed

Believe it or not, Lent begins in less than two weeks. Lent commemorates the 40 days leading up to Easter. During that time, followers of Christ are encouraged to prepare their hearts for Good Friday (the crucifixion of Christ) and Easter (his resurrection).

With this in mind, over the next few weeks, I want to look at accidental idols—practices and beliefs that may unintentionally stand in the way of us encountering God in a fuller way.

Recently, I shared a quote from political satirist and television personality Stephen Colbert on my FaceBook page (see the graphic at the top of this post) who reportedly said:

If [the United States] is going to be a Christian nation that doesn’t help the poor, either we have to pretend that Jesus was just as selfish as we are, or we’ve got to acknowledge that He commanded us to love the poor and needy without condition and admit that we just don’t want to do it.”

I prefaced the quote with the word Selah–a Hebrew word which probably means “reflect.” No commentary on my part, just the encouragement to take a moment to reflect.

You wouldn’t believe the firestorm it stirred. Colbert is, admittedly, a Democrat and a practicing Catholic. And most Evangelicals–with whom I share an uneasy co-existence–are Republicans.

Some FaceBook friends liked it, others were incensed. Without pointing my finger directly at anyone, one side was offended by Colbert’s words, complaining that the government is foolishly delving into areas that belong to the church. No disagreement from my end about that. The other side applauded Colbert for prodding Christians to be more generous. No disagreement about that, either.

One woman added that her ex-husband is a deadbeat dad who refuses to give her child support for their three children. Without governmental assistance she would be homeless. To my dismay, a person whom I don’t even know ended the discussion by criticizing this woman for stealing from him.

Reflecting on the sad ending to the discussion, I realized that the fierce debate really revolved around rights. Everybody wants them and nobody wants to give them up.

What Did Jesus And Paul Say About Personal Rights?

Let me begin by expressing my gratitude for the freedoms I enjoy in the United States—which all too often, I take for granted. But where does freedom begin?

In 2 Corinthians 3:17 Paul reminds us “Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.” True freedom is not contingent upon a right that it is granted by the governing authorities. It begins in the heart set free by the power of the Holy Spirit. “Free” countries are inhabited by people in bondage in the same way that truly free people can live in oppressive countries.

So what did Jesus say about rights? If someone slaps you, he said “turn to them the other cheek also.” If someone wants to sue you, “take your shirt, hand over your coat as well.” If a Roman soldier tells you to carry his possessions for a mile, “go with them two miles” (see Matthew 5:38–42).

Reinforcing Jesus’ words, Paul writes, “The very fact that you have lawsuits among you means you have been completely defeated already. Why not rather be wronged? Why not rather be cheated?” (1 Corinthians 6:7).

Personal Rights In Perspective

The Roman Empire in the days of Jesus and Paul make Barak Obama’s “dream” of a Utopian state look like a Tea Party convention. Emperors randomly killed their foes and tax rates in Judea ran over 50%–without a governmental structure that supplied Social Security or nationalized medicine.

Ironically enough, neither Jesus nor Paul decried the everyday miscarriage of personal rights. Paul encouraged believers to pray for those in authority–the very people who were persecuting them. And read what he wrote about the authorities in Romans 13. Finally, he described Jesus this way:

In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross!”
Philippians 2:5–8 (italics added)

Let’s be thankful for the rights our government affords us–but let’s keep the debate about rights in perspective. Most importantly, let’s exercise our freedom in Christ by laying down our rights, just like the One whom we follow.

Michael co-pastors The Neighborhood Church in Littleton, Colorado with Eugene Scott. He finds it a lot easier to talk about laying down his rights in everyday life than actually doing it.

Loneliness and the Lost Art of Deep Friendships

By Eugene C. Scott

What do the TV shows “Seinfeld,” “I Love Lucy,” “Cheers,” and “Friends,” all have in common? They are all listed in TV Guide’s 50 most popular shows ever. Also each could be described this way:

Seinfeld (#1) is a sitcom about a group of friends living in New York City who navigate the meaninglessness of life together (Subplot: who they do or do not have sex with).

I Love Lucy (#2) an old sitcom about two couples who are friends trying to survive Desi’s stardom and Lucy’s craziness (Subplot: nothing about sex).

Cheers (#18) is another sitcom about friends. These friends meet in a bar and deal with life from there (Subplot: who they do or do not have sex with, except Norm).

Friends (#21) is a sitcom about a group of friends (go figure) who do or do not have sex with each other.

These shows depict people in “life on life” friendships in which they depend on one another for most of life’s seen and unseen necessities.

Sadly, for many, this kind of friendship is as unreal as the TV shows portraying it. Researcher John Cacioppo estimates 60 million Americans struggle with chronic loneliness. And “Americans reporting a healthy circle of four or five friends had plunged from 33 percent to just over 15 percent” between 1985 and 2004.

But loneliness is not only a matter of how many friends one has. Harry Reis, professor of psychology at the University of Rochester, claims, “Some of the most profound loneliness can happen when other people are present.” Lonely people can just as often be surrounded by others. What most of us are yearning for are what twelfth century monk Aelred of Rievaulx called “spiritual friendships.”

What is a spiritual friendship?

These deep are friendships are often born out of pain. Ruth and Naomi, that most famous of biblical friends, clung to each other after the loss of both of their husbands. I met my best friend, who also happens to be my wife, in a time when I was struggling with addiction and felt I had no future. Through the years the all too frequent pain in our lives has only driven us deeper with each other.

Yet, many of us hide our pain, even from those closest to us. This hiding only further isolates. Spiritual friends are vulnerable and that deepens our relationships.

Spiritual friendships also are non-utilitarian relationships. This is where the above TV programs promote a fallacy. Many of the friendships depicted in them are friendships with benefits: friendships that include so called casual sex.

The phrase “friends with benefits” reflects an assumption that other people often exist for what they can do for us or give us.

“Did you get any?” boys masquerading as men often ask each other after a date. Many times, if we think about it, we even speak the words, “I love you” to get the same words in return, at least in part. Interestingly, these “give me” relationships most often leave us empty.

The Apostle Paul told some of his friends, “I have no interest in what you have–only in you.” Spiritual friends aren’t in the relationship for their own gain.

Spiritual friends also value your soul. In the movie “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” blues guitarist Tommy Johnson admits he sold his soul to the devil in trade for his guitar skills. When Everette, who values Tommy’s soul, is shocked, Tommy says, “Well, I wasn’t usin’ it.”

We talk of being soul mates but rarely develop the vulnerability to dive beneath the surface where the soul resides. But our souls are what make each of us unique. Not, as advertisers claim, our clothes or toothpaste. Souls are the God-breathed image of our Creator.

A spiritual friend will look beneath the designer jeans for your designer soul.

Spiritual friendships are also redemptive. To be redemptive in daily life means to be part of the process that helps turn pain into beauty. Recently a friend of mine honored a mutual friend, Jay, by recognizing Jay’s deceased father Jim during a military ball. He awarded Jay with a plaque displaying all of Jim’s lost Korean war medals. Suddenly Jim became more than an old man crippled with Emphysema. He became a hero. And those of us still mourning Jim’s loss, especially his son, had our grief overlaid with pride and hope and healing.

Friends who walk with us through our pain, and refuse to use us for their own gain, and care for our souls also then care about growth.

Why are shows about friendships the all-time most popular? In part because they portray something we all yearn for: life on life communities. Do they do so with complete authenticity or reality? No. But, just as any good story does, they give us hope for what could be.

Eugene C. Scott has friends who occasionally call or text him for no reason whatsoever. Several of them also show up at The Neighborhood Church and nod their heads if he ever says anything profound.