Monthly Archives: June 2019

“Life Apart and Life Impart”

In an A. A. book titled Twenty-Four Hours a Day: The Little Black Book, today’s meditation talked about the life apart and the life impart.  What do the two words “apart” and “impart” mean in this context?

The life apart refers to “. . . the life of prayer and quiet communion with God.”  Whether we speak of prayer and communion with God, whether we even believe that there is a god, we all need some time alone.  We may call it “time to recharge the batteries,” or “me-time,” or anything else, but we all need it.  Some of us (who are introverts) need more time apart.  Others of us (who are extroverts) need less.  But we all need this kind of time.

Strangely enough, I consistently come out as an introvert in the Myers-Briggs Personality Assessment.  This surprises all my friends.  It surprises me, too.  I like people, and I like to talk.

On the other hand, I like people in small doses.  And I only like to talk after several hours of silence, very early in the morning.  I’m writing this post at 5:00 a.m.  Reading and writing, like talking, are aspects of communication.  However, reading and writing are also solitary, quiet activities.

But the life apart needs to be in balance with the life impart.  What I gain in the silence, I need to share with others.  One way that I do that is by teaching.  Another way is by writing for my Down to Earth Believer website.

I am not the only one who has things to impart.  Everyone does.  A lot of people think that their insights and stories would be of no interest to anyone.  They are dead wrong.  Little children who can barely talk can make the most interesting comments in the world, and can ask the best questions in the world.  So can the very old.  So can everyone in between.  Your story is unique to you.  It can also help countless others in the world—if you impart it.

This life apart and impart involves a daily routine for me.  I need balance.  And although I strive for that balance, I rarely feel that I have achieved it.

When I was about nine or so, I watched a lot of shows on TV that involved circuses.  (Yes, that was a thing a very long time ago.)  So, I decided to become a tightrope walker.  When my dad wasn’t around, I started walking on our wooden fence, south of our house.  However, I pretty swiftly discovered that balance isn’t as easy as it seems.  I fell . . . a lot.  One day, I got off balance and came down hard straddling the wooden fence.  That was the end of my tightrope career.

In a sense, we are all tightrope walkers, and balance isn’t easy in any area of life.  For example, sometimes, I talk too much.  I’ve known this for a very long time.  I need to respect my own self by practicing the fine art of silence more often.  Listening attentively and deeply to another person is also a form of communication.

But I will continue to need these quiet alone times as well.  While solitary confinement is one of the worst forms of torture known to humankind, continual interaction with people is not far behind it, as a means of torture.

Balance is exceedingly important.  It doesn’t matter if we’re talking about tightrope walking or life itself.

God, please help me to balance my apart and my impart today.

“You’ve Got What You Need! Get Busy!”

“His divine power has granted to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of him who called us to his own glory and excellence, by which he has granted to us his precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire. For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they keep you from being ineffective or unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ. For whoever lacks these qualities is so nearsighted that he is blind, having forgotten that he was cleansed from his former sins. Therefore, brothers, be all the more diligent to confirm your calling and election, for if you practice these qualities you will never fall. For in this way there will be richly provided for you an entrance into the eternal kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.”

(2 Peter 1:3–11 The Holy Bible, English Standard Version)

https://accordance.bible/link/read/ESVS#2Pet._1:3”

Sometimes, I don’t think I’ve got what I need, in order to do what I need to do.

Take, for example, writing a blog post.  I am much better at being creative early in the day.  But the day got away from me today.  I wasn’t frittering my time away. Still, my brain shut down before my day did.  So, if this post seems a bit thin, please have mercy.  I am like Cinderella’s coach: I turn into a pumpkin.  And I don’t even wait for the clock to strike midnight.  And if you think the post is good, . . . well, God is a God of miracles.  And maybe the post is an example of the very thing Peter is saying to his original readers, and to us.

Peter tells the people to whom he is writing—and, indeed, all of us—that God has given us everything we need to do what we really need to do.

And what do they, what do I, need to do?  We need life and godliness.  Life without godliness is only half a life.  And godliness without life is like a body without breath—in other words, a corpse.

There are a couple of interesting things about verse 3 in the original Greek.  First, the phrase “all things” leads off the verse after a connecting word.  Greek word order is flexible, so the words “all things” may be placed first because Peter wants to emphasize those words.

Second, the verb translated “has granted” is in the perfect tense.  So what, you say?  So, the perfect tense in Greek usually contains two ideas.  The perfect tense usually connotes an action that has been completed in the past.  In other words, Peter is telling the believers that they already have been given everything they need for life and godliness.

The other idea that the perfect tense expresses is that this action that has been completed in the past has ongoing consequences.  So Peter is telling the believers that they have already been given everything they need for life and godliness, and that this gift has ongoing consequences in their lives.

But apparently, this already-given and on-going gift does not automatically make our lives rich and meaningful.  There is something we must do as well.

“For this very reason, make every effort to supplement your faith with virtue, and virtue with knowledge, and knowledge with self-control, and self-control with steadfastness, and steadfastness with godliness, and godliness with brotherly affection, and brotherly affection with love. For if these qualities are yours and are increasing, they keep you from being ineffective or unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

In the Greek, to “. . . make every effort . . .” has a number of possible nuances.  It can mean “hurry, haste, speed, zeal, pursuit, and exertion.  It can even mean “study.”

The grace and gifts of God do not put us on easy street, just on the right road.  And, of course, roads (like Nancy Sinatra’s boots) are made for walkin’. 

“Satisfaction: An Inside Job”

Father’s Day has been difficult for me for many years.  I wanted to be a dad, and am glad that I had the privilege—four times, no less!  I am glad that I was a dad, but I am not glad for the kind of dad I was a good bit of the time.  I made lots of horrible mistakes, and made them repeatedly.  I got some things right, but not a lot of them.  I suspect that I am not alone in being glad to be a dad, but being very self-critical about the job I did.

However, I am determined that Father’s Day will not be as difficult today.  Partly, that is because of one of the readings from Hazelden Publishing that I did this morning.  It really spoke to me.

“Satisfaction Comes from Inside


Why do we continually expect to be satisfied by taking in and possessing things from the outside? Amassing material goods and possessions more often than not stimulates rather than satisfies our appetite. What we do and contribute satisfies us more than what we have and consume.

When we are at peace within ourselves and in contact with our Higher Power, we make fewer demands on the outside world. When we are able to use our abilities in productive work and can give of our emotional and spiritual strength to other people, we feel replete.

Nothing from the outside can bring us happiness if we are at war with ourselves. Chronic dissatisfaction indicates that we have not turned our will and our lives over to God’s care, but are still trying to run the show egotistically. Complete surrender opens the way to satisfaction.

I want to surrender to the inner needs of my spirit.”

(From Food for Thought: Daily Meditations for Overeaters by Elisabeth L.)

I was especially struck by the sentence, “What we do and contribute satisfies us more than what we have and consume.”

The thing for me to do today (or any day), in order to have a good day is to focus on what I am doing and contributing today.

The past is the past.  It isn’t going to change.  But today lies open before me.  I can either throw a poor-pitiful-me regret party, or I can be productive and contribute to the well-being of others.  The choice is mine.  It is also yours.  Let’s choose wisely.

“Repurposing Strawberries and Weaknesses”

A good friend of mine and I were chatting on the phone, going over our needs for the day, and praying.  I mentioned that I was going to clear out my strawberry patch, and turn my strawberries into compost.  “They’ve done their duty.  Now, they will be repurposed as compost, and worked back into the soil.”  I think that I was comforting myself by framing this as “repurposing,” rather than grubbing out my strawberries.  Sometimes, you have to steel yourself to say goodbye to something or someone you love.

When my friend prayed over the phone, he took my composting deeper, making it about more than strawberries, and thus, much more profound.  He said something to this effect: “LORD, please help us to root out our weaknesses, and repurpose them as compost.”

Yes!

Our weaknesses may have once been our strengths, but (like my strawberries) it may be time to repurpose them.  The time has come for something else.

Of course, one day we will all be ready to become compost, won’t we?  Embalming and burial in a coffin will slow the process, but will not prevent it.  A cheery thought, isn’t?

But even while we live, there are things in us that need to die.  It helps to think of even those things as being repurposed.  There are many things in all of us that are bad.  There is nothing that can’t be used for a good purpose.  Figuring out how is the work of a lifetime.

What can you repurpose?  Why not start right now?

“Defining Ourselves Out of Obedience”

Jesus told some wonderful stories.  One of the most familiar is the story that we call “The Good Samaritan.”

25 And behold, a lawyer stood up to put him to the test, saying, “Teacher, what shall I do to inherit eternal life?” 26 He said to him, “What is written in the Law? How do you read it?” 27 And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” 28 And he said to him, “You have answered correctly; do this, and you will live.”

But he, desiring to justify himself, said to Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?” 30 Jesus replied, “A man was going down from Jerusalem to Jericho, and he fell among robbers, who stripped him and beat him and departed, leaving him half dead. 31 Now by chance a priest was going down that road, and when he saw him he passed by on the other side. 32 So likewise a Levite, when he came to the place and saw him, passed by on the other side. 33 But a Samaritan, as he journeyed, came to where he was, and when he saw him, he had compassion. 34 He went to him and bound up his wounds, pouring on oil and wine. Then he set him on his own animal and brought him to an inn and took care of him. 35 And the next day he took out two denarii and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take care of him, and whatever more you spend, I will repay you when I come back.’ 36 Which of these three, do you think, proved to be a neighbor to the man who fell among the robbers?” 37 He said, “The one who showed him mercy.” And Jesus said to him, “You go, and do likewise.” (Luke 10:25-37)

The lawyer knew the verse about loving his neighbor as himself.  It was found in Leviticus 19:18.  The lawyer also knew that this command was very important.  So far, so good.

The lawyer’s problems started with doing love.  That’s where the problem starts for all of us, isn’t it?  When we hear, “Do this, love your neighbor as yourself, and you will live,” we immediately start fudging.  Most of our “fudge factory” churns out excuses.

But we also use definitions as a substitute for obedience. “But who is my neighbor?” we ask.  If we can define the word “neighbor” as narrowly as possible, we can make love more manageable.

The lawyer wanted a definition of the word “neighbor.”  Sounds reasonable.  After all, how can you do something, if you don’t have a definition of what you are doing?

However, Jesus wasn’t having any of it.  Instead of a definition, Jesus provided a story.  And the story involved a Samaritan.

Now, you need to know a bit about the attitude of many first-century A.D. Jews about Samaritans.  Samaritans, who lived just the north of Judah, were regarded as half-breed nobodies by many folks in Judea.  Prejudice is nothing new.

So, for Jesus to tell a story in which a Samaritan was the hero was a radical challenge to many Jews.  It was especially offensive to a good, religious Jew of that time.  Notice that the lawyer won’t even say the word “Samaritan” when Jesus asks the lawyer who showed mercy to the man in distress.  Instead, the lawyer says, “I suppose the one who showed him mercy.”

Now, it is easy for us to get on our high horses about the lawyer, but I doubt that any of us is immune from prejudice.  Those of us who think we are immune are simply in denial.

Fee and Stuart, in their excellent book, How to Read the Bible for All Its Worth, retell the parable of the good Samaritan with an atheist playing the part of the Samaritan.  The authors of the book comment, “One of the authors presented this story once.  The startled and angry response made it clear that his hearers had really ‘heard’ the parable for the first time in their lives.”  When any of us “hears”—really hears—Jesus’ parables, we are likely to be startled and angry.  Jesus is an E. O. E.: an Equal Offense Employer.

So, the lawyer tried to define his way out of obedience, but Jesus parabled him into a dilemma.  And now, the lawyer had a choice.  He could either keep on being startled and angry.  He could continue to try to come up with a definition of “neighbor” that would support his prejudices and make obedience (or rather, partial obedience) possible.

Or the lawyer could take Jesus’ parable to heart, look for someone, anyone, in need, and seek to meet that need.

We are faced with the same choice.  What will we, what will I, choose today?

EPILOGUE: One of my loyal and insightful readers made a wonderful suggestion: He suggested that I unpack the word “help” a bit. Good suggestion! Here is my reply. (And thanks to all you loyal readers, especially those who have suggestions or questions.)

“The Samaritan did first aid, took the injured man to an inn, paid up front for some care by the inn-keeper, and promised to pay more when he came back through.
Help, at least in this story, seems to be a very basic matter of doing what needs to be done.”

“High Standards and Great Gentleness”

I have high standards—for other people.

When I drive, I expect everyone else on the road to drive carefully and appropriately.  They should drive not more than five miles over the speed limit (unless, of course, I want to go faster, and there’s no state trouper around).  They should not tailgate me.  They must not text or talk on the phone.  (Was that my phone ringing?  I had better take that call.  I’m expecting an important 12-step call, and I can drive pretty well with my knees on the steering wheel.)

Yes, I have very high standards for other people.  Far too often, I have very high standards for myself as well.

Now, I know what some of you are thinking.  Aren’t high standards a good thing?

My response to that question is terribly unsatisfying.  “It depends.”  Certainly, I want my doctor to have high standards for herself.  And I think she does.

My pastor and my mechanics?  Check!  My students?  Yes indeed!  Myself?  Yes again!

On the other hand, high standards can lead to serious problems.  In fact, high standards can be a problem.  Perhaps an illustration would help.

I am a teacher, and a good one, who wants to become even better.  Nothing wrong with that.

Or is there?  The answer is, “Sometimes, yes, there is something wrong with that.”  There are times when I set such high standards for myself that I over-prepare, and then try to throw everything I have learned at my students.  They get frustrated, I get frustrated, and real learning—and even the desire for real learning—goes out the window.  A lot of what I call “laziness” or “procrastination” is actually a function of my impossibly high standards, that keeps me from finishing my preparation.  I can never prepare enough to meet my standards, so I end up with half-finished lesson plans.

High standards for others can lead to unnecessary frustration, but high standards for myself can really tie me up in knots.  In truth, excessively high standards can lead to lower performance.

So the antidote to impossibly high standards is to have no standards, right?

No.

The antidote to excess in one direction is not excess in the opposite direction.  In driving a car, the best way to keep from going into the right-hand ditch is not oversteering and ending up in the left-hand ditch.  It’s generally best to stay on the road.

But is there a road to avoid the dangers posed by both high standards and no standards?  I believe there is.  It is called “the golden mean.”  It goes back at least to Aristotle’s work, Nicomachean Ethics.  Many philosophies and religions have adopted and adapted it.  (The most relevant name for Christians is Aquinas.)

The basic idea of the golden mean is simple: What we need to be practicing is not extremes, even in virtues.  For example, if a person practices courage, that’s good.  However, if a person goes too far in that direction, it becomes recklessness, which is not good.

So, having standards is good.  But so are gentleness and humility—gentleness and humility with others and even with ourselves.

“Of Brokenness and Light”

When you’re broken, you let the light in.”  (Jennifer Blasi)

I met a lady at the park the other day, while I was reading and waiting for a friend who has asked me to be a spiritual mentor to him.  In the course of our conversation, I discovered that she wanted to be a counselor.  However, life happens.  Sometimes, our dreams get put on hold.

Nonetheless, I believe that she will one day be a counselor—and a very good one, at that.  In fact, she is already a counselor, though not fully trained.  In the course of our conversation, she made the comment that leads off this post.  “When you’re broken, you let the light in.”  When I asked her where she had heard or read that, she said, “I think I just thought it.”

Some sayings stay with you and nourish you.  I found her aphorism very strengthening.

Sometimes, it’s the broken people who let the light in.  Sometimes, they are broken from the outside, through no fault of their own.  You would think that such brokenness would let into their lives a nightmare of darkness.  Sometimes, it does.

But I can think of people who become so translucent—or even transparent—that they are flooded with light.  I knew a man whose alcoholic father beat him and his mother mercilessly on a regular basis.  Yet this man became one of the kindest, gentlest man I’ve ever known.  He made a huge contribution to my life, to the lives of many young people, and to his community.

But, of course, sometimes we break ourselves.  And yet, even then, the light sometimes invades.  I have friends who have done great harm to themselves and others.  But they came to terms with their destructive patterns.  In old-fashioned language, “they repented, and were changed.”  They became better friends, better mothers and fathers, better employers and employees.  They became better people.  They were so full of light that, if I had not known them before the Change, I would never have believed that they were ever full of anything but light.

And the most wonderful thing about the light shining into broken things and people is that the light also shines through broken things and people.

Jesus said, “In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven.”  (Matthew 5:16, English Standard Version)

Brokenness may seem the opposite of good deeds.  But perhaps the best good deed of all is to allow God’s light to shine into our brokenness, and through us to others.

“The Muscles of Empathy”

A wise young friend of mine and I were chatting on the phone yesterday.  He was requesting prayer that he would keep his “reservoir of empathy” filled.

What a wonderful metaphor!  A reservoir is deep, and you can draw on it in a time of need.  I’m afraid that, sometimes, my empathy is more of a trickle than a reservoir.  You too?

My friend’s metaphor provoked a metaphor of my own.  I was thinking that maybe empathy is a bit like muscles.  If muscles are not used, they atrophy.  It is the same way with empathy.

But, by the same token, muscles can be strengthened—provided that you challenge them consistently and slowly.  It is the same with empathy.

Too often, whether with physical muscles or empathetic muscles, I want to take shortcuts.  I want the muscles to magically appear right now and with no effort on my part.  But there are no real shortcuts for anything that matters in life.

I need to stretch my empathy muscles a bit—and more than a bit—every single day, many times a day.  I can do this when I’m driving and someone cuts me off or tailgates me.  I can do it when my wife is unreasonable.  (She almost never is, so I won’t be winning any weight-lifting competitions thanks to her.)  I can stretch and develop my empathy when I’m wanting to walk and/or run, but all my little dog wants to do is sniff and be balky.

I have plenty of opportunities to develop my empathy muscles.  There is only one catch: I need to slow down, and take full advantage of those opportunities.

Want to do a little weight-lifting with me today?  Don’t worry!  We’ll start off real slow and easy.

“On Being a Sinner, but Pursuing the Good”

Psa. 38:0       A PSALM OF DAVID, FOR THE MEMORIAL OFFERING.

Psa. 38:1         O LORD, rebuke me not in your anger,

                        nor discipline me in your wrath!

2           For your arrows have sunk into me,

                        and your hand has come down on me.

Psa. 38:3         There is no soundness in my flesh

                        because of your indignation;

             there is no health in my bones

                        because of my sin.

4           For my iniquities have gone over my head;

                        like a heavy burden, they are too heavy for me.

Psa. 38:5         My wounds stink and fester

                        because of my foolishness,

6           I am utterly bowed down and prostrate;

                        all the day I go about mourning.

7           For my sides are filled with burning,

                        and there is no soundness in my flesh.

8           I am feeble and crushed;

                        I groan because of the tumult of my heart.

Psa. 38:9         O Lord, all my longing is before you;

                        my sighing is not hidden from you.

10         My heart throbs; my strength fails me,

                        and the light of my eyes—it also has gone from me.

11         My friends and companions stand aloof from my plague,

                        and my nearest kin stand far off.

Psa. 38:12       Those who seek my life lay their snares;

                        those who seek my hurt speak of ruin

                        and meditate treachery all day long.

Psa. 38:13       But I am like a deaf man; I do not hear,

                        like a mute man who does not open his mouth.

14         I have become like a man who does not hear,

                        and in whose mouth are no rebukes.

Psa. 38:15       But for you, O LORD, do I wait;

                        it is you, O Lord my God, who will answer.

16         For I said, “Only let them not rejoice over me,

                        who boast against me when my foot slips!”

Psa. 38:17       For I am ready to fall,

                        and my pain is ever before me.

18         I confess my iniquity;

                        I am sorry for my sin.

19         But my foes are vigorous, they are mighty,

                        and many are those who hate me wrongfully.

20         Those who render me evil for good

                        accuse me because I follow after good.

Psa. 38:21       Do not forsake me, O LORD!

                        O my God, be not far from me!

22         Make haste to help me,

                        O Lord, my salvation!” (English Standard Version)

Psalm 38 is a penitential psalm.  That basically means that it is the prayer of a person who has messed up and is aware of it.  Such a person is either feeling really messed up inside, or the person is experiencing the external consequences of his wrong-doing.  Often, it is both.

Sin is not a popular word these days, but the consequences of it are very much still with us.  You can put lipstick on the pig, you can even pretend the pig doesn’t exist, but you can’t get away from the stench.  I grew up on a farm, and I can assure you that this is true.

And yet, toward the end of the psalm (verse 20), the psalmist makes the astonishing claim, “Those who render me evil for good accuse me because I follow after good.”

The other day, when I was listening to this psalm on my You Version app, I suddenly heard this strangely out-of-place part of the prayer.  How on earth can the psalmist be confessing his sins, and yet claim to be pursuing what was good?!!

Apparently, my surprise (if not shock) was shared by Derek Kidner, who wrote the following:

“After the penitence of verse 18 (in which concern or anxiety is implied in the word for I am sorry; cf. NEB), the claim of wrongful attack in 19f. may seem surprising. But David’s sins, however serious, were those of a man whose fundamental choice was to follow after good, and it is this choice that always rankles with the unbeliever (cf. John 15:18f.).”[1]

Sometimes, those of us who are aware of our sins need to be reminded that we are pursuing good.  The Hebrew word translated “pursue” or “follow after” (radaf in transliteration) is a word that often has a negative connotation.  It is used of robbers stalking their victim.  It always has the idea of single-minded pursuit.

But here, radaf is a positive word.  The psalmist, despite his sins, claims to be suffering because he is pursuing what is good.

And sometimes it is that way.  We not only suffer for our sins.  Sometimes, we suffer for our pursuit of what is good.

Sin is bad—very bad.  It severely damages us, other people, and even the world in which we live.  We dare not try to minimize it by saying that we are “fundamentally” pursuing what is good.

However, just as we dare not minimize our mess-ups, we dare not minimize our pursuit of goodness.  To play down either one is refusing to play according to the rules.


[1]Derek Kidner, Psalms 1–72: An Introduction and Commentary, TOTC 15; IVP/Accordance electronic ed. (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 1973), 173.

https://accordance.bible/link/read/Tyndale_Commentary#22456.

“On the Death of a Friend”

Saturday, June 8, 2019

My friend, ___________, from Saturday morning group is dead.

I remember his kindness to me in picking up my tab at Frisch’s, and how much we enjoyed walking to Frisch’s, rather than driving.  We would talk and look for coins to pick up.  He was so good at that.

He was quiet: a doer, rather than a talker.  I like people who are doers, rather than talkers.  I am married to one.  Opposites attract.

God, I trust that he is with you.  If I loved my friend as best I could, how much more you!  Tell him I said, “Hey!”  Tell him also that I’m going to leave my car at the church this morning, and walk to Frisch’s and back.  I’ll look for coins.

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