Faith & Life Inspirational Message

I became involved yesterday in a conversation about believing.  It was a cordial discussion between some folks who have a firm belief that God exists and somehow is involved in the world in a caring way.  Another couple of people were dubious about God’s existence.  They were not wildly opposed to God’s existence.  Rather, they simply felt like they have had no evidence that God exists.  They do not see any signs of a God who is involved in any kind of caring way. Rationally, both sides make sense to me.  I think I could easily develop an argument for both of those sides that could convince me.  But sometimes the issue of God’s existence is not just a “matter of the head.”  To say that is to say perhaps coming to believe or disbelieve in God’s existence is not a matter of just figuring it out. Of course, I do believe in a God who exists.  And I am just as certain I have no compelling evidence to prove that existence to someone who has seen no signs of Divine existence.  That is why

Recently, I have been reading some of the last words the late Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, wrote.  Merton died tragically in Bangkok, Thailand in December 1968.  He had gone to that Asian country from his home monastery, Gethsemani, located in the hills of Kentucky.  He looked forward to participating in an interfaith monastic conference on the renewal of monasticism.  The conference would include Christian and Buddhist monks.  Merton did make it to the conference and spoke there.  It was during a break that Merton suffered an accidental death in his hotel room. His book, The Asian Journal of Thomas Merton , was edited from his original notebooks in which he was journaling as he traveled from mid-October to his fateful death on December 10.  Because it is a journal, the reader feels like he or she is accompanying Merton on the trip.  He describes nature scenes in such a way I felt like I could see it.  He talks about meeting people and you sense that you were in the meeting.  One su

I was going to call this inspirational piece the psychology of ministry, but I know that some people don’t like the word, ministry.  For some it is associated with the institutional church, which really gives them problems.  I also have in mind many of the young folks who sit in my classrooms.  It is still common to hear them say something about liking spirituality, but they don’t like religion.  Unfairly I believe, they link religion with the church, with doctrine or something like that.  They don’t always know what they are talking about, but I think that is true of many of us older ones, too! Hence, I want to talk about the psychology of service.  I know our word, ministry, is rooted in the Latin word which means to serve.  So, I am getting what I want anyway!  My thoughts were provoked by something I read while doing some research for my new book.  What I read was actually a piece by Matthew Syed for folks who are interested in innovation and high performance.  These are two areas

In my reading for the week, I came across an article about an artist.  In my younger days, I never gave art much thought.  I am sure I had the requisite art lessons in elementary school, but I don’t remember them.  I do recall some music times, but I find it interesting that I have no recollection of art times.  To be sure, it was a rural school, but surely there were some occasions we did art.  My lack of art also was not helped growing up on that Indiana farm where there was little appreciation of art, as I recall.  Other than a calendar on the wall, I don’t remember any pictures hanging somewhere.  If there were, they were probably family pictures. It is likely I had some kind of art appreciation class in college, but I don’t remember that either!  By now some of you might be exasperated and think I actually don’t have much of a memory!  That may be true, but I am still under the illusion that I am doing ok mentally.  I simply think art has played a minimal role in my life.  And I a

After a while, folks get tired of the challenges of a pandemic.  In the early days of a pandemic, it is easy to be in a mood of denial.  It reminds me of one of the first phases of the process of grief.  News initially came out of China, which is so far away, it does not even seem possible that it potentially will relate to us.  And then we began to read of cases in this country.  As usual, it happens on both coasts and again people in the middle of the country dismiss this as the price people pay to live on the Atlantic or Pacific coasts. And then it gets closer to home.  And finally, it becomes a reality.  Denial gives way to a little discomfort and, then, that turns into anger, rebellion and people who simply decide they are immune, and it won’t affect them.  Apparently, they have little regard for other folks.  But hey, this is the American way, right?  We are individuals and are on our own.  Too bad if you are older, sicker or weaker.  Unstated in this kind of attitude is the assu

Out of the blue came a request to write something very short on religion.  The request was not much more specific than that.  “Sure,” I thought, “I can write a few words on religion!”  I know that it sometimes is much more difficult to write a few words than to wax eloquent about a topic such as “religion.” The other part of the request that was funny was that I see teenagers as one target audience.  “Of course,” I thought, “I am an expert on teenagers, their psychological and spiritual development.  After all, a few words should do it!”  After that, I think I will solve the American budget crisis and eradicate the national debt! So where does one start when you are going to write a few words on religion?  One thing I do not assume is that most people would define religion in the same way.  I have a hunch there are many different definitions floating in the air out there.  Often that is where trouble begins; you don’t have a “correct” understanding of religion and I make some judgm

Occasionally, I learn something that others learned when they were growing up.  I suppose there are some things I may have learned as a boy that other folks did not learn, but I am not sure what those would be.  It always seems to me other people learned things that I never learned.  Most of the time, it is no big deal. Today is a reminder of one of those things I never learned when I was growing up.  If you follow the Benedictine lectionary, as I do, you will know that today is the feast day for St. Anna and St. Joachim.  Now if you are saying to yourself, “who are they,” then you apparently were in the same not-knowing boat that I was in when I was a boy.  I can assure you, little Quaker kids do not grow up knowing who Sts. Joachim and Anna (or Anne) were. Since I do follow daily the Benedictine lectionary, it is clear to me that Benedictine monks know who the two saints are.  I suspect many Roman Catholics grow up knowing who St. Anne and St. Joachim are.  Probably, many Protest

The right side of history was a phrase I heard listening to the news.  I am sure the writer for that news program was intentional in using it.  It came at the end of a story about Congressman, John Lewis, who recently died.  Lewis was a giant in his times.  I know him from the 60s and his involvement in the civil rights movement.  He was the youngest speaker at age 23 at the famous March on Washington in 1963 when ML King delivered the amazing, “I Have a Dream” speech.  And the saga of John Lewis will go on, even in his death. John Lewis was born in a little town in Alabama in 1940 to a family of sharecroppers.  Young folks today would have a difficult imagining what that would have been like.  And yet, African Americans who are born into an inner-city suburb or in a ghetto part of a city can more easily imagine.  While they may not be surrounded by sharecroppers, they nevertheless know something about the racism and segregation that Lewis knew.  Since the 60s, it is easy to deceive ou

Recently I was sharing some thoughts about contemplation.  That continues to be a topic that intrigues me because I want to live my life as a contemplative.  For me that does not mean joining a monastery and doing it that way.  I do plan to keep visiting monasteries and trying to learn from the monks who see this way of living as central to what they are doing.  I would like it to be central to what I am doing, too, but recognize my context is different than their context.  Sometimes, however, I think I can overdo the differences between my context and the monastic context.  Clearly, I do not live in a monastery.  No one would confuse my little condo with a monastery.  If you walk into my place, there would be little indication that anything religious goes on here!  I would claim it is because I am a Quaker, but the truth may be closer to the fact that my life is about as normal as any other person’s life in the secular world.  I still have a ways to go. But I am also confident slappin

When I was growing up in rural Indiana, I was provincial.  I did not know I was provincial; in fact, I am not sure I would even have known what that word meant.  If you look up the word in a dictionary, you will find a couple of apt definitions.  A provincial person is someone of “local or restricted interests or outlooks.”  That described me!  Another definition of provincial is a “person lacking urban polish or refinement.”  Yep, that described me. There was very little diversity in my life experience…ethnically, racially, religiously…you name it.  No one I knew drove a non-American made car.  Career choices for boys and girls were pretty clear with little overlap.  When you are provincial, it does not occur to you to ask why.  For a provincial outlook, most of life is a given.  One could have hopes and aspirations, but most people I knew did not have hopes that were very big or expansive. In my experience there were only two kinds of people who could “go global:” soldiers and mi

Prayer is such a staple of ordinary Christianity, Judaism, and Islam that I suspect many people do not give it much thought.  If one grows up in a church, prayer has probably been part of the regimen.  There are private prayers and there usually are corporate prayers.  Different traditions do prayer differently, but each tradition typically has a “standard” way to do it. Growing up as a Quaker, I learned that prayer was part of the deal.  My trouble was no one ever taught anything about prayer.  Of course, you learned the Lord’s Prayer.  That was a given.  It was not unusual to be in a situation and the leader would say something like, “And now let us pray the prayer that Jesus prayed…”  Automatically, everyone launched into “Our Father…”  If I found myself in a non-Quaker group, I was ok until we came to that proverbial prayer-fork in the road.  Suddenly, I would be gripped with unease.  Do I say “trespasses” or “debts?”  I would heed the advice of my cynical Episcopal college fri

Recently, I had occasion to read the little essay, “Besieged,” in David Whyte’s wonderful book, Consolations .  Appearing in 2015, this book is full of Whyte’s reflections on common words and what they can mean to us.  The subtitle of his book points to what he is trying to do: The Solace, Nourishment and Underlying Meaning.  Most of the words he chooses for reflection are very common words, like alone, fear, etc.  Occasionally he chooses a word like besieged, which I recognize not all folks probably know for sure what it means. So let me clarify that besieged means to be surrounded and captured.  This is particularly true of a place.  It would not be unusual to hear someone describing history and say something like, “the fort was besieged by a large number of troops.”  If you are inside the fort, you are in trouble!  Then the word has a larger context to talk about life, as too many of us experience it.  We feel besieged.  We are surrounded by people constantly wanting stuff from us. 

Recently, I had the occasion to pull down a book from my shelf and quickly read through it again.  The book was by Frederick Buechner and was entitled, The Sacred Journey.  I like Buecher as a writer.  He has written a great deal.  He is quite old now; in fact, I thought he might be deceased.  He is a Presbyterian pastor, who taught in a college setting for a few years and then made a living by writing.  I never met him, but wished that I had. His book looks at his early years.  The title for this little inspirational piece comes from a phrase in the book, to which I will get in a moment.  First, I would like to cite the opening words of his book.  He begins by telling us he had given some talks at Harvard.  In the process he said, “all theology, like all fiction, is at its heart autobiography, and that what a theologian is doing essentially is examining as honestly as he can the rough-and-tumble of his own experience with all its ups and downs, its mysteries and loose ends, and expr

Recently I returned to Martin Marty, a scholar and public commentator whose work I have admired for literally all my adult life.  Marty is one of those timeless people who seemingly has never changed looks or demeanor in all the years I have known him.  On the other hand, his thinking and work is ever fresh.  He was born in 1928 and is still going strong.  I happened on a short reflection Marty offered on the ideas of hope and wonder.  Let me share some of these, along with my commentary. Marty opens the reflective piece with this sentence.  “Alongside ‘hope’ let’s place its kin, ‘wonder,’ both of which are needed in the fact of the dulling realism that colors so much of existence today.”  To put hope and wonder together is an interesting idea.  Clearly, they are not the same thing.  I was intrigued how Marty and the folks he quotes are going to develop the idea.  One of the people Marty turns to is the historian and professor of religious studies, Robert Fuller.  Fuller begins wi

Probably most of my adult life I have valued the idea of community.  I am not sure where or how that valuation happened.  I do know the idea of community is generally important within Quaker spirituality.  However, I think that would give me more credit than I deserve to suggest I got this at an early age! Oddly enough, I suspect part of my attraction of the idea of community is related to sports.  I played team sports and liked that aspect of the athletic life.  I liked “being in it together” with other guys.  When I was older, I played on mixed softball teams so enjoyed being in it together with other guys and gals.  I found it much more fun to win when I was with others.  And it certainly is easy to experience losing when you are in it with others.  Nobody talks about this as community---but I think it is a form of community. So for fifty years, I have valued the idea of community.  I have actually been aware of and appreciative of this idea of community for quite some time---pr

Fortunately, I am part of some interesting groups.  Although much of life these days is online, nevertheless I do have some other folks in my life.  Granted I would prefer to be with them in person, but seeing them on a computer screen is a great second best.  It offers some engaging conversations, new ideas and challenges that come my way.  I figure this is a good thing in my life and does, indeed, make my life better.  I am grateful. Recently, I was involved in one such group conversation.  It was by nature a spiritually focused group, so I was particularly interested in the details of the group talk.  And it has some age range in the group, so it was not a gang of people all my age.  Sometimes that is pretty boring!  The focus of the conversation was about current events.  Clearly, we all know that there is so much going on in the news these days.  There is almost a crisis of the week.  For example, I heard one guy say we are dealing with about five pandemics at once. There is the v

Wonder is one of those words most people would assume they know exactly what it means.  And I don’t doubt they have a good idea.  But with most significant words, wonder is perhaps deeper and more profound than many of us would have thought.  This describes how I was before reading a short little piece that made me think a little more about the phenomenon of wonder.  I wanted to share some thoughts with you.  I am convinced the whole discussion naturally leads to spiritual thinking and living.  For that I am appreciative. The piece comes from the pen of Dutch professor of education, Anders Schinkel.  Before he began his argument, he noted, “wonder epitomises what education is all about: opening up the world.”  Right away, I was hooked and read further.  I started thinking about wonder---what really is it and how do I do it?  It made me wonder (!) if somehow, I incorporate it into my teaching.  I love the fact that wonder opens up the world.  Schinkel notes the obvious when he comme

I took heart when I read a recent little essay by Kelly Hughes, a publicist from Chicago.  I did not know her, but very much liked what she brought to me during these crazy times of ours.  And I thought you might be helped, too.  She entitles her essay, “Books offer wisdom when we need it most.”  As one who writes and even has authored a few books, I truly believe (and hope) what she said is true. I really like her subtitle: “Books can help us perceive grace, beauty, love and truth.”  That is what her essay is about, and I want to add that books are resources of the Spirit.  Let me share some of her thoughts and tell you how books have been and still are resources of the Spirit for me.  Early in the essay she shares a question from psychologist, Robert Wicks.  He asks, “Don't we appreciate others' value to us and the brevity of our own life when we make friends with the reality of impermanence and the fragility of life?”  Perhaps it is not welcome news to be reminded of the r

The title of this reflection might elicit the response, “of course,” from those who know I teach college students.  Why would I not say, blessed are the students?  This gives me a job!  They pay my bills.  They are young and interesting.  Indeed, all that is true.  And I do hope my students are blessed. When we say the word, student, it is not surprising folks think about college or high school students.  Even elementary students fit this bill.  All of them are in school.  Everyone calls them “students.”  Even in Germany they are called “Studenten,” which sounds just like it does in English.  Why would we not hope all the students---around the world---be blessed? But unless we grew up in a religious school setting, associating “blessing” with students is not normal.  In my Indiana growing-up days I do not recall one time anybody used the language of “blessing” in school.  “Blessing” was a church-word…or something you said when someone sneezed!  Oh yeah, that is when I heard the wor

As part of my regular discipline, I try to follow the lectionary---the prescribed set of readings for the Christian Bible.  I never had such a tool as a Quaker, so this builds in some intentionality into my selection.  Otherwise, I could just read my favorite parts of the Bible and not bother with more troublesome or, what I might deem, boring parts!  I follow the lectionary presented by the Benedictine monastic community.  There is something special for me to know the monks around the world are reading the same thing I am reading. The reading for yesterday’s gospel selection was a familiar one to me.  It comes from Matthew’s gospel, but has parallels in Luke.  There are also snippets of this passage found in another very early writing, The Gospel of Thomas.  This is one of those early gospels which did not make it into the Bible, as we now know it.  However, that does not mean the stuff in there can be totally discounted.  Common to that gospel and the two we just cited, Matthew and L