“Are you Sensitive? Or are you Sensitive?”
English is a contradictory language. You’ve no doubt heard the following questions:
- Why does “down the creek without a paddle” and “up the creek without a paddle” mean the same thing? Or do they?
- Why do we drive on a parkway, and park in a driveway?
- Why do we tell our children to “just be quiet,” and then ask them to explain why on earth they did what they did?
- Why do we say “not to mention,” and then mention it?
- Why do we introduce a man/woman as one who “needs no introduction,” and then spend five minutes introducing them.
Earlier today, a good friend gave me another one. And this one isn’t just strange; it’s plum weird.
Why does being “sensitive” mean two things that are almost opposites? A person can be “sensitive” in the sense that they get their feelings hurt about everything and by everyone. On the other hand, a person can be “sensitive” to the feelings and needs of others.
These strike me as being somewhat related. I can see why these two realities are signified by one word. However, I’ve also noticed this: People who are very sensitive to their own feelings and needs are often very insensitive to the feelings and needs of others.
I used to be that kind of person. I could perceive incoming nuclear missiles where there was absolutely nothing—not even a swarm of gnats. I was a master of the not-so-fine art of getting my feelings hurt. On the other hand, I could drive a Mack Truck over other people, and then blame them for not getting out my way. I am less like that person now, though I still have my moments.
So, I have formulated the DTEB Sensitivity Formula: S0 ∝ SS. Sensitivity to Others (SO) is inversely proportional to Sensitivity to Self (SS).
Practically speaking, I need to ask myself a tough question, whenever I am being very sensitive about my own feelings and needs. Here is the question: What can I do to be sensitive to the feelings and needs of someone else right now?
I am not counseling denying what we feel, nor am I saying that it is wrong to have needs. What I am saying is this: I need to continually monitor my thoughts, feelings, words, and deeds by asking the question, “Am I being sensitive right now, or am I being sensitive right now?”
More than the strangeness of language is in play here. Whole mindsets and destinies hang in the balance with how we answer this question.
“Letting Peace Rule”
DTEB, “Letting Peace Rule”
There is a lot that troubles all of our hearts these days. There always were. It will always be so on this planet, during every lifetime.
It was so during the time of the Apostle Paul as well. And yet, Paul (from prison, no less!) wrote the following words to believers in the city of Colossae:
“And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful.” (Colossians 3:15, English Standard Version)
I looked at the original language in which this verse was written (Greek), and noted some interesting things about the word “rule” that might have escaped me in the translation.
First, this verb for ruling is used in secular Greek for what judges at an athletic competitions do. When there is a debate about rules or who was the winner, the judge decided. It would be like our words “umpire” or “referee”.
Second, the verb translated “rule” is in the imperative. Apparently, Paul did not think that allowing peace to rule in our hearts was a good idea or a nice suggestion. It was essential!
Third, the verb “rule” is in the present tense. This is a bit tricky to unpack for those of us who speak English, but the tenses in Greek (as in many languages) does not deal primarily with the time of an action, but with how the action is perceived. The present tense often suggests ongoing, repetitive, or continual action. So, the fact that the verb “rule” is in the present tense indicates that the peace of Christ is not a flash in pan. It is to be our permanent activity.
Of course, for the Christ-follower, peace is one of the many wonderful gifts given to us in Christ, we must allow that peace to rule in our hearts. Too often, I’m afraid that I let everything else but the peace of Christ control my heart. But that isn’t Christ’s fault. It is mine.
I am going to conclude with the somewhat dated (and ferociously British) words of F.B. Meyer concerning Colossians 3:15. His words still pack a punch.
“The peace of God is the peace of the Divine nature — the very tranquillity which prevails in the heart of the God of Peace. It was of this that Jesus spoke when He said, “My peace I give unto you”; for His own being was filled and blessed with it during His earthly career. In each of us may be a sea of glass, reflecting on its pellucid and tranquil bosom the untroubled calm and rest, which are unspeakable because eternal and Divine. “The Lord of peace Himself give you peace always.”
There are three things against which we must ever be on our guard, lest they rob us of our peace. First, unconfessed sin; second, worry; third, the permission of an unrebuked selfish principle. . . .
The apostle says, Let it rule. The Greek word means arbitrate. Whenever there is a doubtful issue to be decided, and by one course your peace may be disturbed, whilst by another it may be maintained, choose those things that make for peace, whether for yourselves or others. Let God’s peace act as umpire.
At the same time, this does not mean peace at any price. When the cause of truth is assailed, or the rights of others invaded, we must stand up boldly and strongly for Righteousness.”
“Enough Already!“”
I have never felt like I was enough—at anything. A sense of inadequacy pervades everything I am and do. Sorry to be so brutally out front about this, but there it is.
I’ve decided, just today, that I don’t have to be sufficient or adequate in any area of my life. At least, I don’t have to be sufficient or adequate on my own. That last phrase (“on my own”) is the crucial one.
Since the Garden of Eden, people have been trying to make their way in the world on their own. Do I need to tell you that this has not gone well? No, you’ve probably noticed.
We were not designed to “make it on our own.” We were made to help one another. Above all, we were made to be helped by God. To paraphrase a quote from a St. Augustine prayer, “Our hearts are inadequate until they find their adequacy in thee.” God is the source of our adequacy, our sufficiency, our enough-ness.
God called Moses to go back to Egypt to lead God’s people, Israel, out of slavery. “I’m not enough, LORD,” said Moses. And of course, he was right. But God said to Moses, “I am your enough-ness!”
Jeremiah was called to be a prophet to Judah and the gentile nations. Jeremiah said that he wasn’t old enough. God said, “Shut up and prophesy!”
In discussing his gospel ministry, the Apostle Paul asked, “Who is sufficient for these things?” The answer that he expected was, “No one! Certainly not me!” But then, Paul said, “But our sufficiency is from God.”
So, I have resigned from my quest to be enough. It is not a godly quest, because it is not quest for God. Enough already! God is enough for me, for you, for the whole human race. In fact, God is more than enough.
“We are All in this Together—and We are All Alone”
One of my 12-step readings this morning started with the following epigraph:
“Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and touch and greet each other.
—Rainer Maria Rilke”
Love is the only thing that is strong enough to embrace both our solitude and togetherness.
We are hearing variations of the slogan “We are all in this together” a lot these days. We are hearing it far more than we are living it out. Careful, elderly people like me are prone to judge those who don’t wear masks. Those who don’t wear masks are apt to do the same toward those who do. There are moments when I wish someone would speak (or shout) the truth:
WE ARE NOT IN THIS TOGETHER!
But there is something that combines our essential solitude and our equally essential togetherness. And that thing is love.
Love is not to be reserved for those who are like us. In fact, if I reserve love for only those who are “like me,” I will love no one at all. Nobody is really all that much like me. My wife and I are so different and disagree about so many things. If love were about likeness, we would hate one another. We are indeed two solitudes.
And yet . . . And yet, we two solitudes protect and touch and greet one another. We love.
But love can draw wider circles. Love doesn’t have to be limited to one person. Oh, yes, I agree: There are special relationships that are exclusive in how they are lived out. My wife is very special to me, and I to her.
On the other hand, love—as distinct from its individual and unique expressions—can grow to be as big as the Pacific Ocean. My wife’s and my relationship is a quiet and sheltered bay where we can be safe, where we can be together in our solitudes. But we need to venture out into the wider, wilder waters on a regular basis. Otherwise, the bay may become a stinky, stagnant swamp.
So, we are all in this together after all. We just need to live out that togetherness in a creative way that respects our own solitude and the solitude of others.
“Mastering the Simplest Stuff”
I am always pleased whenever I master even the simplest stuff. For example, I have figured out how to put my wife’s and my measuring spoons back on the “ringy-thingy.” (“Ringy-thingy” is the best technical (??) word I could that I could find on the internet for the piece of plastic that holds measuring spoons together. Sorry!)
When she first bought them, I thought to myself, “How nice! They are all different colors, and we can keep them together on this nice . . . ringy-thingy!”
But then, I washed them. That was fine, but after drying them, The Problem began. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me how to get the blamed things back on their holder (the ringy-thingy). I poked and probed and got nowhere fast. I spoke unkindly about the design and the designers. I thought some unkind thoughts toward my sweetheart who had purchased such instruments of torture.
But recently, something wonderful happened. I figured out how to get the measuring spoons back on the ringy-thingy. And it wasn’t even that difficult. I had mastered this simple task.
I’ve always struggled with the simple stuff. I was in the fourth grade before I could tie my shoes. And this was long before the days of Velcro. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to learn how to tie them. It was terrible embarrassing—indeed, humiliating—to have my mom or my teacher tie my shoes at the advanced age of nine. I felt very small and stupid.
Then, one day, I confided in my niece. She was two years younger than I was, and she had been tying her own shoes for a couple of years. Debbie was a good teacher. She very patiently and slowly went through the steps of how to tie shoes. When I was on the verge of tears and wanting to give up, she encouraged me. “No!” she said. “You can learn this!” And I did learn how to tie my own shoes!
So, across the years, I’ve noticed several important things about how I learn simple stuff.
- The first thing I need to do is to get over thinking that simple stuff is simple. It isn’t. At least, it isn’t simple for me.
- The next step is to realize that this not-so-simple stuff is going to take time and that I need to make lots of mistakes before I ever master it.
- I need teachers who are patient, encouraging, and who break things down into little steps.
- I also need to be patient—with my teachers, with the process, and above all with myself.
What simple stuff has been holding you hostage? Or are you holding your own self hostage?
“Anniversary Thoughts”
Today is my wife’s and my forty-seventh wedding anniversary. Here are a few random thoughts about this momentous, gargantuan day.
- I was amazed when she married me. I am more amazed now.
- I didn’t think she would be as wonderful as I thought she would be. I was right. She was even more wonderful than I thought she would be. In particular, her wisdom and sense of humor are much more spectacular than I knew at the time. (The fact that I am often the butt of her practical jokes—as well as the occasional recipient of hard wisdom—does not, in any way, compromise my delight in either her jokes or in her wisdom.)
- I wasn’t mature enough to marry my wife or anyone else, but she was farsighted and patient. She saw that I might someday grow up to be an actual human being. There have been some signs here of late that this might actually be occurring. However, let’s not be premature baby!
- Laughter is a major ingredient in our relationship. Sometimes, we’re not even sure what we are laughing about, but who cares.
- I am discovering that getting my own way and being in control aren’t nearly as much fun as getting out of my own way and being in love.
- I have discovered that you really can love someone for a lifetime. There is enough mystery in every heart, mind, and soul to last for forty-seven years. Indeed, there is enough to last forever.
Happy anniversary, Princess! I love you so much!
“The Problem with Racism and Isms in General”
DTEB, “The Problem with Racism and Isms in General”
The problem (or at least a problem) with racism and other isms is that isms are a form of laziness. This applies to “Christianism” as well as atheism, to sexism as well as racism. It also applies to ageism, whether this refers to the labeling of the old, the middle-aged, or the young.
Racism and all isms are a form of laziness because these isms pretend that we can simply lump people into certain groups, and then make certain assumptions and judgments about them.
But humans, and perhaps all other creatures, resist such lumping together. Even dogs and cats can’t be lumped together. “I like dogs better than cats because dogs are friendlier!” Oh, really?! You’ve never met Gracie, then! She is a friend’s gray cat. She likes to sit on my lap and purr while I pet her.
“Baptist ministers all like fried chicken!” Oh, really?! I was a Baptist minister for many years. Yes, I did in fact like fried chicken. However, some of my colleagues hated it.
The truth is that people are themselves. They are messy, unique individuals with their own strengths and weaknesses, with their own likes and dislikes. Isms are a lame and lazy attempt to find a shortcut to actually knowing people.
Of course, racism and other isms are deadly. You may think that “laziness” is too mild a word to use for something so horrible and fatal. However, you may be underestimating how serious laziness itself is.
I once knew a lazy homeowner. He knew that the railing around his upstairs veranda was getting rotten. However, he was too busy (or lazy?) to fix it. A guest, not knowing the danger, leaned on it, and fell to the concrete below. He was paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life.
Lazy racism and other isms are a serious matter. I refuse to allow myself or anyone I love to bask in such laziness without a challenge.
“Multitiming”
Multitiming is a word that is not recognized by my spellchecker. However, I think that multitiming should be given official status. The word is built just like the word “multitasking—doing or trying to do more than one thing at the same time.”
I would provisionally define multitiming as follows: “multitiming, noun; the tendency to drag the past and/or the future into the present.”
You can see from the definition that this is a very common tendency. That is probably why multitiming is not an official word. Who needs a special word for something that is so normal, so human?
However, is dragging the past or future into the present really so normal? Or is such action just the usual human reality? Sometimes we get confused, thinking that what is usual is also normal. Worse yet, we may convince ourselves and one another that the usual is inevitable, or even good.
Now, I will admit that multitiming can be a good, healthy thing. Remembering the past and learning from it is good. So is anticipating and preparing for the future. If living in the present means ignoring the past and the future, then living in the present is pathological. Maybe I need to revise my provisional definition of multitiming in order to recognize its positive possibilities. Here goes! “multitiming, noun; the tendency to bring the past and/or the future into the present, either for good or for ill.”
However, far too often, I am not practicing healthy multitiming. I am not learning from the past or planning appropriately for the future. Instead, I am wallowing in the past and worrying about the future. I have had this tendency since I can remember. Covid-19 has accentuated this tendency (especially the worry about the future), but this virus did not create my unhealthy relationship with the past and future.
I have noticed that the people whom I know the best and respect the most are people who practice good multitiming, and avoid the bad. They are in touch with the past, but they are not anchored to it. Such healthy people anticipate and plan, but they don’t terrify themselves with dystopian videos of the future. And such people live in the present, doing what they need to do in this moment. They also generally enjoy the present moment. Healthy multitimers are living Serenity Prayers: “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”
What sort of multitimer will you and I choose to be today?
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