I am slowly working my way through Brian Doyle’s book, Eight Whopping Lies. It is a great book, due in no small part to Doyle’s writing style. Clearly, he is a keen observer of life, but then he has the ability to articulate what he sees and interpret it in a fascinating, revealing manner. I come away from a reading both charmed and instructed. Recently I read a small chapter (if two pages constitutes a chapter) entitled, “God: a Note.” I want to share some insights with you.
The opening couple sentences offer immediate intrigue. “Had a brief chat with God the other day. This was at the United States Post Office.” (8) I was hooked. I continued to read. “God was manning the counter from one to five, as he does every blessed day. He actually says every blessed day and he means it.” Doyle continues to tell the remarkable story of an on-the-surface unremarkable clerk in the Post Office. As Doyle watches, the clerk never loses his patience or his cool. Doyle trots out the kind of understanding phrases the clerk/God uses to describe his work. About the often complaining, impatient customers, the clerk says, “I try to put myself in their position.” He piles up other understanding one-liners. “We are all neighbors in the end.”
Doyle is capable of humor. A little later in the story he acknowledges, “Dogs adore God…” (9) Then the clerk/God comments, “I would guess I know a hundred dogs by name…Hardly any cats. People don’t take their cats with them when they go to the Post Office.” Doyle actually does use italics in his text. Pretty soon the author recounts his own interaction with the postal clerk and now is ready for his interpretation and commentary. Let’s follow that in some more detail.
The first observation emerges as the author exits the Post Office. He concludes, “if we cannot see God in the vessels into which the electricity of astonishing life is poured by a profligate creation, vessels like this wonderfully and eternally gracious gentleman at the Post Office, then we are very bad at the religion we claim to practice, which says forthrightly that God is everywhere available…” I see a great deal of profundity here and want to unpack it a little bit.
Doyle’s initial claim is God is poured into us---and probably all of creation. I rather like the image of God as something that is poured into us. We are vessels in which the electricity of astonishing life is poured. That is a stunning way to see myself and you. You and I have electricity in us. I think I have read some of the science about how our hearts and bodies do have electrical pulses. But that somehow did not seem thrilling. Doyle puts it more poetically. We have the electricity of astonishing life. When I grasp the truth of that, I wonder why I ever complained or moaned about things.
Spiritually speaking, I suspect our ordinary lives wear us down and we lose any sense of having astonishing life within us. It is too easy to drape this astonishing life in the drabness of our routines, normalcy and ordinariness. We are tempted to assume we are not special. There is little of value in us. And so we get hooked on social media and tv and others venues to see people who are somehow much more electric than we are. We compare ourselves and come up short. And all of this is depressing and we make stupid conclusions from this sorry process. It is as if we have our own tails in our teeth and wonder why we are hurting!
Creation is profligate, announces Doyle. I know students would have no idea what that word, profligate, means. It means extravagant or wildly generous. It is appropriate extremism. It proclaims a model of abundancy. And this is such good news, it is hardly believable by all of us working with a scarcity model. This model worries there is not enough. The profligate model says not to worry…there is always more than enough.
God is everywhere available contends Doyle. Again, this seems unbelievable. But that is because we don’t yet have eyes of faith. We find it hard to trust this. We are cautious when we ought to be jumping for joy. We are tentative when everything in creation encourages us to go for it. Doyle gives us the clue. All we need to do is “remove beam from our eyes, and bow in humility and gratitude…” (9-10) And so it is, Doyle alleges, “I have seen God at the United States Post Office…”
It is in the very midst of ordinariness and routine. That where we are most likely to see God. Even more astonishing says Doyle is that God we all have. That God in poured into each of us. We beam and radiate, if we have not unplugged. Maybe we cannot actually unplug. We just think we can; we assume God cannot be seen. Maybe we just need to go to the Post Office again.
Maybe we just need to be humble and grateful. And then we can see again. We will see the everyday God all over the place.
The opening couple sentences offer immediate intrigue. “Had a brief chat with God the other day. This was at the United States Post Office.” (8) I was hooked. I continued to read. “God was manning the counter from one to five, as he does every blessed day. He actually says every blessed day and he means it.” Doyle continues to tell the remarkable story of an on-the-surface unremarkable clerk in the Post Office. As Doyle watches, the clerk never loses his patience or his cool. Doyle trots out the kind of understanding phrases the clerk/God uses to describe his work. About the often complaining, impatient customers, the clerk says, “I try to put myself in their position.” He piles up other understanding one-liners. “We are all neighbors in the end.”
Doyle is capable of humor. A little later in the story he acknowledges, “Dogs adore God…” (9) Then the clerk/God comments, “I would guess I know a hundred dogs by name…Hardly any cats. People don’t take their cats with them when they go to the Post Office.” Doyle actually does use italics in his text. Pretty soon the author recounts his own interaction with the postal clerk and now is ready for his interpretation and commentary. Let’s follow that in some more detail.
The first observation emerges as the author exits the Post Office. He concludes, “if we cannot see God in the vessels into which the electricity of astonishing life is poured by a profligate creation, vessels like this wonderfully and eternally gracious gentleman at the Post Office, then we are very bad at the religion we claim to practice, which says forthrightly that God is everywhere available…” I see a great deal of profundity here and want to unpack it a little bit.
Doyle’s initial claim is God is poured into us---and probably all of creation. I rather like the image of God as something that is poured into us. We are vessels in which the electricity of astonishing life is poured. That is a stunning way to see myself and you. You and I have electricity in us. I think I have read some of the science about how our hearts and bodies do have electrical pulses. But that somehow did not seem thrilling. Doyle puts it more poetically. We have the electricity of astonishing life. When I grasp the truth of that, I wonder why I ever complained or moaned about things.
Spiritually speaking, I suspect our ordinary lives wear us down and we lose any sense of having astonishing life within us. It is too easy to drape this astonishing life in the drabness of our routines, normalcy and ordinariness. We are tempted to assume we are not special. There is little of value in us. And so we get hooked on social media and tv and others venues to see people who are somehow much more electric than we are. We compare ourselves and come up short. And all of this is depressing and we make stupid conclusions from this sorry process. It is as if we have our own tails in our teeth and wonder why we are hurting!
Creation is profligate, announces Doyle. I know students would have no idea what that word, profligate, means. It means extravagant or wildly generous. It is appropriate extremism. It proclaims a model of abundancy. And this is such good news, it is hardly believable by all of us working with a scarcity model. This model worries there is not enough. The profligate model says not to worry…there is always more than enough.
God is everywhere available contends Doyle. Again, this seems unbelievable. But that is because we don’t yet have eyes of faith. We find it hard to trust this. We are cautious when we ought to be jumping for joy. We are tentative when everything in creation encourages us to go for it. Doyle gives us the clue. All we need to do is “remove beam from our eyes, and bow in humility and gratitude…” (9-10) And so it is, Doyle alleges, “I have seen God at the United States Post Office…”
It is in the very midst of ordinariness and routine. That where we are most likely to see God. Even more astonishing says Doyle is that God we all have. That God in poured into each of us. We beam and radiate, if we have not unplugged. Maybe we cannot actually unplug. We just think we can; we assume God cannot be seen. Maybe we just need to go to the Post Office again.
Maybe we just need to be humble and grateful. And then we can see again. We will see the everyday God all over the place.
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