Category: God stuff

It’s hard to extend forgiveness if you don’t accept it

My entire faith tradition is wrapped around forgiveness and the desire for a relationship. God could’ve stayed in heaven, whatever that is. Instead, he chose to come be with us–not in a modern air-conditioned palace with servants and rich food. He came at a time when life was difficult and uncomfortable, to a place that’s not forgiving.

And he forgave us for what we did to him and what we do to each other.

Godly kindness is countercultural in this world. While the Bible may say the meek inherit the earth, our view is more like the villain from The Magnificent Seven, who said, “If God didn’t want them sheared, He wouldn’t have made them sheep.”

Though we all pine for forgiveness, for we’ve all screwed up, its a concept that’s hard to believe in. I struggle to believe in forgiveness for myself. I know what I’ve done through life. I know what I deserve. And I struggle to believe that anyone would want to untie me from that judgement.

Yet, as a Christian, that’s what I’m supposed to believe. If I don’t believe in forgiveness, it’s hard to truly forgive others for the their wrongs, both real and imagined. For me, it’s not an angry force field that repels any trespasser. To borrow a phrase from Simon and Garfunkel, I build walls, a fortress deep and mighty, that none may penetrate.

It’s a bleak, lonely way to live.

It would be better if only I believed in forgiveness. You can’t really extend what you can’t bring yourself to believe in.

I want to forgive. I want to tear down the walls of separation. I want to believe in that miracle. Because if I believe in it, I can extend it to others–and maybe help them have the courage to chip away at their walls.

Maybe this is why people ditch Christianity

This is a tweet from Marjorie Taylor Greene, publicly saying she believes in the entire gospel message.

This is Marjorie Taylor Greene, talking about those who support aid for Ukraine, specifically saying that she hates people who support Ukraine, then doubling down to say she seriously hates them.

This is Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew: “You have heard that it was said, ‘Love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, that you may be children of your Father in heaven.”

This is a big part of the reason Christianity is losing its foothold in this country. People like Representative Taylor Greene wrap themselves in Jesus, proclaiming themselves to be de facto arbiters of what God wants. Then they turn around and proclaim hatred for anyone who doesn’t see the world the way they do.

If Marjorie Taylor Greene is the arbiter of proper Christianity, count me as part of the nones when it comes to religion.

Blessings so plentiful you don’t recognize them

Last night, I slept fairly well in a climate-controlled house. On a comfortable bed. I woke up this morning and took my time easing into the day. Then I got up and exercised. It was warm out, but not overbearing. I couldn’t do as much as I wanted, but I was able to get out there. My Garmin tracked my distance, speed, steps, and number of calories.

Then I came home to my climate-controlled house and jumped in the shower while my sweaty running clothes were in the dryer. I drank potable water from one of the six places I can do that from in my house.

Then I settled in for the first of two days off in a row.

No matter what happens the rest of the day, I’ve been well and truly blessed with things I typically overlook.

I’m not alone in that.

We all have our own struggles. Sometimes the things that weigh us down bring us to our knees. Just existing causes what feels like unbearable pain.

But that’s not the only part of the story. We also have an almost infinite number of blessings, as well. They don’t make the difficult things easy–struggle is struggle. But they balance things out over time.

It’s something for me to remember the next time I get a Fibro-based ass kicking or have a difficult period in life–as we all do.

God, Mr. Miyagi, and Fibromyalgia

Remember in The Karate Kid, when Daniel-san went to Mr. Miyagi for help because William Zabka kicked his ass? To help him, Mr. Miyagi puts him to work painting the fence, sanding the floor, and doing the wax-on, wax-off thing. Daniel-san goes along to a point. After all, Mr. Miyagi kicked Zabka’s gang’s ass.

But he’s not feeling great about himself already, and as the menial labor goes on, he feels like he’s been taken yet again. Then Mr. Miyagi shows the muscle memory gained by painting the fence, sanding the floor, and waxing the car.

I woke up this morning with pain. It’s been kind of an on-going thing since last August. The experience doesn’t seem to end. I’ve gone to God about it and tried to trust in his approach to the whole thing. After all, if this is happening, God either ordained it or allowed it, so I have to believe there’s purpose.

Yet sometimes I feel like Daniel-san, just going through another long day of painting the fence, or sanding the floor, or waxing the car. I don’t understand it and it seems like it’ll never end. And, in the darkest moments, I wonder if I’m a sucker.

If I truly believe that there’s a purpose to all this, then what seems menial and unrelated to anything is actually preparing me for something important. And it’s not to kick the Cobra-Kai champion in the face and win Elisabeth Shue’s love.

You can withstand almost anything if there’s purpose behind it. And if you try to find purpose and somehow there isn’t any, but you make it through anyway, what’s the harm?

I hate that my body hurts. I hate that I can’t do the things I want to. I hate that I have to chose between a massage therapy appointment and an evening work dinner because the massage therapy is likely to kick my ass.

If there were no purpose behind this–if it were random and arbitrary–I’d struggle even more just to make it through the day.

Maybe I’m a sucker. Maybe God doesn’t care. Or doesn’t exist. Or has smited me for my transgressions. But I’m better than I was, and that ain’t nothing.

Sometimes it’s enough to get through a hard day.

Still worrying and trying to believe in a better approach

If I really believed, I’d think differently.

I woke up this morning earlier than I wanted to. I fiddled around a little. Checked the Mets score–they lost. Checked the socials and my news sites. Then I dove into my devotionals for the day. It was pretty rote this morning. I went through the motions with the dawning understanding that a relationship with God is about faith, not feelings.

When I set out for my walk, I’d already missed my internal deadline for when I wanted to start–based on when I woke up. As I walked, I realized just how many things I’m regularly anxious about. There’s work–there’s always work. There’s health and whether I’d have a good Fibro day. Then a dozen other things followed.

It’s not like I lack a track record. I’m successful enough that I’m still here and doing pretty well by most standards. I’ve been challenged and persevered through those challenges. I’m the best person I’ve ever been.

And I’m still concerned that’s not good enough.

If I really believed what I profess on Sundays, I’d handle it all differently.

I don’t know what it’s like to live without some level of anxiety. Through my adult life, I’m not sure I’ve ever really relaxed and been comfortable with what I was and what I bring to the table.

And yet, Jesus was pretty clear about worrying. We’re not to worry. If God takes care of the birds and the lilies of the field, then he’ll take care of us.

Ultimately, I worry that I’m not good enough–that when I die, what lies beyond won’t be what I want, but what I deserve. That’s perhaps the ultimate sacrilege, given that Jesus came to take care of that.

Meanwhile, I scrape today together and hope tomorrow won’t feature a crash. I ignore the fact that between my own resilience and God’s blessing, I’ve been successful with the Fibro for the past few years.

I also ignore the fact that if I really dove into faith, it would be easier not to worry. And I’d have less to be concerned about with the Fibro.

But I want to do better. I hope that leads to improvement down the road.

What, me worry? Unfortunately, yes.

Sunday afternoon crankiness is no stranger to me. The weekend is already almost over and work dawns tomorrow. The crankiness is born of anxiety and it’s a leftover from the time when my head was up my butt when it came to work.

A lot has changed since those days, the result of some wonderful mentoring and a bit of work on my part. I’m not that guy anymore, and yet the Sunday jitters still remain, though not as forceful as they used to be. When it happens, it’s latent crankiness and magnification of what might go wrong (but hasn’t and probably won’t).

Since I profess to be a Christian, that’s a faith issue as much as it’s a head-up-my-butt issue. If I trust that an all-loving God is truly in charge of everything, faith in his omnipotence is supposed to take the pressure off. I’m taking a test I’ve already passed. Condemnation has been mathematically eliminated. I literally have nothing to be anxious about.

And yet, there I was, thinking about tomorrow morning as a low-level fog of dread started to roll in. (And I checked my Garmin–again–to make sure my pace was acceptable.)

It’s an irrational set of feelings. I’m really good at what I do. I have the trust and support of the people I work for and the majority of my internal customers. People whose job is to put events on trust me to get the best possible situation for their event technology. That’s not a tiny thing.

I haven’t had a brutal meeting or phone call in months. There’s literally no reason for me to be anxious.

More than that, with the Fibro, anxiety increases the chances of a flare or even a crash. There’s enough that can cause problems without my baseless fears putting their finger on the scale. In a way, my lack of emotional discipline is self-sabotage.

So now I have some homework. I need to pray and think and practice changing my point of view. If I can remove that layer of garbage from the person God made, I’ll be better for myself and for others.

And that’s where you live a mark in life. Being comfortable with yourself so you can be present for others.

The hard stuff is real, but so are the blessings

This morning, I got up from my comfortable bed, walked into the spare bedroom and jumped on the rower for 45 minutes. Then I took a heated shower, shaved, dried off, and dressed in decent-looking clothes that fit me well. All in a lovely, climate-controlled house two-tenths of a mile away from a supermarket that has everything I need in it.

After I write this and have some coffee, I’ll drive fifteen minutes to church and worship there without worrying that anyone will assault me, take away what I own, jail me, or kill me because of my faith.

No matter what else happens today, I’ve already been blessed real good.

When things go poorly, it’s human nature to concentrate on the difficult parts. While the last couple months have had thrills, they’ve also had stress and unplanned difficulties. Work’s been a little harrowing. We had an accident that totaled one of the cars (no one was hurt). There have been unplanned trips to doctors. And I’ve had a couple really difficult Fibro days. All of those things are real and take attention.

They aren’t the only things. They must always be seen in a bigger context and overall blessings I’ve been given. Even if I had half the comforts I currently enjoy, by historical standards, I’m incredibly blessed.

In this life, I will know trouble, but I’ll know more blessing than I can ever measure.

That’s worth remembering.

When you can’t do what you want, do what you can and call it a win

The Fibro crash from the other day has mostly passed. But there’s still the healing cut on my wrist from where I fell sprinting into the garage out of the rain a week ago Wednesday. And then there’s what seems to be a pulled muscle in my side from when I tripped running last weekend. And I have a cut or something on my ankle that’s taking its time healing. And I sprained my thumb a week or so ago.

I’m just kind of broken all over the place right now.

The Bible verse of the day this morning was “Always be joyful.” That’s a tall order when the Fibro has to take a number to inflict its pain on me.

Given my age, it’s becoming clear that I don’t control my own body. The aches and pains seem to be mounting up and there’s not a lot I can do about it except give myself time to heal.

That leaves my reaction to all this. Always be joyful is a stretch for me right now. Pain makes that difficult. But it’s something to shoot for.

Beyond that, I have the power to do what I can. When I’m not in position to run, I stretch. And since I’ve have some back problems, I’ve added holding a plank to the stretching. This morning I held a plank four times for 90 seconds and once for a minute. It’s not a massive accomplishment, but it’s what I can do right now. Whatever back problems I take forward, a stronger core will make them easier to bare. And if I ever stay healthy and Fibro free for longer than a week or two, the stretching will pay off, too.

So maybe there is cause for joy, in that I’m not allowing this to victimize me. As they say in the Marines, improvise, adapt, overcome. I’m doing what I can, so when the storm clears, I have a chance to pick up where I left off.

There’s great power in that.

It hurts today. That’s the beginning of the story, not the end.

It hurts today. That’s not a shock. It hurt a lot a few Fridays ago. There were bad days before that. And there’ll be bad days after this, too.

It’s part of the hand I’ve been dealt. I’ve acknowledged it, so it’s not effective for me to be surprised, put off, or angry. Better to accept it as reality for today.

God has either allowed this to happen or he’s ordained it. It’s not random chance. There’s a purpose behind it, either for myself or someone else.

You can ask what possible purpose would a supposedly loving God have for afflicting me with body-wide pain, with making my mind work like a car with a slipping clutch. If he loves me, why would be possibly allow or ordain suffering?

There are any number of answers to that question. Maybe it’s because without this metaphorical thorn in my side, I’d be too full of myself. Maybe it’s to build my empathy and make me care more about what others go through. Maybe it’s so I would write this post on this day and someone who needs this message would see it. There has to be a purpose; otherwise, why bother?

That’s what faith is. It’s believing when you don’t know and trusting when you can’t see the overall plan.

I’ve tried to deal with days like this with grace. Sometimes I’ve managed, sometimes I haven’t. I’m learning to deal with the days I haven’t with grace for myself. Maybe that’s part of the purpose in this, as well.

In the meantime, I’ll do my best today. I’ll work to the extent I can, then check out if I can’t do the whole day. I’m blessed with the ability to do that. I’m blessed with the likelihood that today’s an aberration, rather than the new normal. I’m blessed to be able to hold down a job and to have people who accommodate days like today.

I’m blessed to have gotten past the part of life where I have to drive children places after work every day. And I’m blessed with a wife who understands and lets me wander off to be by myself, as one does on days like today.

So it hurts today. I can choose to make that the end of the story. Or I can make it the beginning. Either way, the day won’t be easy. But that’s okay, too. We’re not guaranteed a daily walk in the park.

That’s the thing about days–they always end. Perhaps tomorrow, there will be a stroll in the park. As for today, I start where I start. I can use this as an excuse to be crabby and insular. Or I can do the hard things and try my best anyway.

Though it hurts, that’s the ultimate power–my choice in how to deal with it.

Doing the right thing because it’s the right thing, not to feed the ego

This morning’s Daily Stoic journal entry was about avoiding the temptation of accolades thrown your way. Sometimes they’re valid and nice. Sometimes, they’re just a distraction, something to lead you down the slippery path that can come from ego-induced blindness.

There’s been a lot of stuff going on over the last several weeks. And while some of it’s been very good, it’s left me feeling like the gas tank’s empty. The litany of production issues at work hasn’t helped any.

It can all leave you feeling pretty damn unappreciated sometimes.

So I have to ask myself, why do I do the things I do? Am I doing the right thing because it’s the right thing and that’s what I stand for, or am I doing it so everyone can heap praise on me and feed my ego?

Scripture, which I’m supposed to use to guide my life, says that whatever I do, I should do it for the glory of God. That means sometimes I’ll do the right thing and the wrong things will happen. That I did it because I’m trying to live according to my ideals should be enough.

To be clear, no one’s been abusive or over the line. I’m just not at my best right now. And the more I look for relief, the more elusive it seems to be.

This gives me something to work on. My ego is like the big carnivorous plant in Little Shop of Horrors (or, for that matter, our cat). It only wants to be fed. It’s lust for recognition skews my outlook. It makes me take my eye off the ball.

So today, I get a day off. It’s a day to rest from the running, but it’s also a day to consider things and start working on the things that’ll make me better for myself and more useful to others.

And to put that ego on a badly needed diet.