What Am I Afraid Of?

I got to thinking yesterday, " What am I afraid of?" It's a long story on how I came to that question. Suffice it to say that the combination of my sister mentioning a life theory of fear vs. love, combined with a bus ride yesterday with a bunch of rather mean 8th graders got me first to wondering what they fear, which led me to wondering what I fear.  I took some time out to think about that question. I think there are specific fears for various situations, but one overriding fear that seems to dominate over all the rest is the fear of failure. What if I mess up? What if I screw up so bad that someone else has to deal with it?

I thought of death or of being in a situation like Joanne, where she had a debilitating stroke several months ago and is taking slow steps down the long road of recovery. But neither of those things scared me. What scared me was that if I died, someone else would have to come in and go through the piles of stuff I haven't gotten through in my office. (It also makes me very sad to think of what my family would go through. But that's because of my love for them, not for any fear of what they'll experience. I know they'll find a way to carry on without me, even if they miss me a great deal.) I fear messing up when I'm talking to someone - of saying the wrong thing or not saying what I want to say in a way that the other person will comprehend in the way I want it to be comprehended. I guess when I boil it all down, I fear that I'll get it wrong. I fear that I'll do or say something that impacts someone else negatively, in a way that they'll be left cleaning up my mess whether it's physical or emotional or maybe even spiritual.

My fear might seem very silly to you, but it's very poignant to me. It's pretty central to how I think about myself. I am a person who orders things. You might not think that from looking at my house or my back yard. But when I write a newsletter, I'm not only organizing words into a coherent and hopefully interesting portrayal of information, but I'm also organizing the blocks of text and images on the page. When I do the book keeping for the church or for CFHL, I'm ordering numbers - moving them in and out and keeping them all lined up in a row as I do so. I organize my kids schedules. I order the morning routine so that the kids can sleep as late as possible and still get to the bus stop on time. I take in and organize information for the kids school and send it out to the PTO and other parents. I take in, I rearrange and organize and then I send out. I wish I had a more ordered house and yard, but that one gets away from me, which I'm sure is why it comes at me in my fears.

So yesterday, while I was lying on my bed thinking this stuff through, I managed to ironically do what I feared. I messed up. Nathan had a 3:30 doctor's appointment and I entirely forgot about it. I had remembered it yesterday morning. But by afternoon I was exhausted and the appointment wasn't on my radar. When the office called to see what the deal was, I lost it. I broke down. That was it. I'd messed up. My greatest fear came rushing over me to overwhelm me.

It hasn't left me there. I've tried to walk myself through some of the things that I have been encouraging Nathan to do when he hits something that throws him for a loop. I've tried to look at the bigger picture. Sure, this happened and I screwed up, but what will that matter a year from now? Five years from now? It won't. It really wasn't that big of a deal. But it felt like a big deal. I'm still holding on to that feeling of it being a big deal, even if it wasn't.

I'm at Everyday Joe's right now sipping on my new favorite tea, Margaret's Hope Darjeeling, and reading Resident Aliens (Hauerwas and Willimon) and I hit this bit, "True freedom arises, not in our loud assertion of our individual independence, but in our being linked to a true story, which enables us to say yes and no. Our worst sins arise as our response to our innate human fear that we are a nobody." That, combined with several other bits that I'll probably share in another post, helped me to see that looking at the long term regarding my mess up wasn't really looking at the entire big picture. There's more that, if I really want to heal from this, I need to do. I need to allow for grace.

When I missed Nathan's appointment yesterday I was frustrated with Rob because he just didn't seem to get it. He didn't get that this was a major mess up. He wasn't as upset as I thought he should have been about it. He didn't jump in to be my superman, fixing the screw up that I had made. But looking back on it, I see it a different way now. Rob saw the situation with more grace than I did. He knows it's not the end of the world and he treated the situation as it deserves. He didn't get bent out of shape. He shrugged it off and moved on. Granted, it wasn't his mess up. But even though it was mine, that doesn't mean I need to hold on to it.

Jackie, Nathan's doctor, also dealt with me with grace. She talked to me on the phone about how Nathan's doing and she got us set up with an appointment on Wednesday next week. Though I'm sure it was frustrating for her to wait for us and we didn't show, she didn't express any anger with me. She didn't even show her frustration. She dealt with the situation and moved on, according it only what it required and not pouring extra meaning into the event that it didn't have.

And God forgives my screw up. When I stand before him at the end times, he's not going to pull out his notebook and say, "Dang, Meg. What's this about you forgetting that doctor's appointment?" There are much deeper heart issues that he's concerned with, and me messing up isn't a central issue. He knows I'm human. He knows I'm fallen. A central issue is that I let my fear of messing up define me. I let my belief that I can hold it all together, and that if I don't I'm worthless, be a driving force in my life. That's the heart issue. That's what's important. And I can't let go of that belief until I start to see the grace that is being offered to me by those around me and accept that grace from them, most especially God's grace.

God hasn't set me on the planet with some directions and then nudged me out to do it or fail. He has set me on this planet and then he's put himself beside me. We walk together. Even when I forget to let him lead (He's the one that knows the way after all. He should be the one leading.) and I try to take over with my own map and my own agenda, he's still there beside me. He's committed himself to get me through this. Some would say he's covenanted himself. This is one of those footprints in the sand times and I can choose to let it reinforce my fears. Or I can acknowledge that now is when there's only that one set of footprints in the sand and they sure aren't mine. I can't do this on my own, but then again, I don't have to. Thank God.

What if life began with a single cell

What if life began with a single cell. 

And what if life multiplied when that cell divided into two cells (mitosis). 

And what if you were around six or seven thousand years ago and you knew that life started with a single cell that divided into two cells, but you were trying to explain that to someone that didn't even know that cells existed (and who probably still wouldn't get it even if you explained it since the microscope hadn't been invented yet to show them what you meant). So how would you explain it to them? What would you say to get that idea across while still being comprehensible? 

In other words, how would you describe mitosis to an ancient Sumerian or Akkadian in a way that they might still get the main idea of what you're saying? 

Memorial Day - What's the point?

Memorial Day has come and gone, but I wanted to reflect on a couple of posts that showed up in my Facebook feed over that weekend. My goal isn't to point fingers at specific people but to explore a connection that other people seem to see but that I'm at a loss over. Here are the two status updates that I am particularly referring to:

Thanks to those who courageously sacrificed their lives for us, pointing to the ultimate sacrifice given for us, Christ on the cross."

"What a Blessing to live in the USA- May everyone have a wonderful Memorial Day weekend and remember those men and women in uniform who fought to keep the Blessings coming from the Lord Jesus Christ!!!!!"

Memorial Day, as I understand it, is an American holiday, made official in 1868 by General John Logan, in which we remember those who have died in the nation's service. When I look at the Department of Veterans Affairs page on the day, I see no mention of Christ, the cross, or even Christianity. In fact, from looking at that page, one might even get the impression that this is a day to honor and remember the death of any soldier who died in the service of the United States of America, no matter what their religious affiliation and no matter what their purpose was in fighting. 

So why is it, then, that someone might think the death of an American soldier, of unknown religious affiliation (if any), in some way points "to the ultimate sacrifice given for us, Christ on the cross"? If that is the case, then isn't any death, of any sort, by any person anywhere, also pointing to the ultimate sacrifice of Christ? Or is there something about Memorial Day that makes the death more pointedly Christian that it would be otherwise?

And why is it assumed that soldiers are fighting with the united purpose of keeping "the Blessings coming from the Lord Jesus Christ!!!!!" Didn't some soldiers fight because they were drafted, or because they wanted to end slavery, or to protect their economic situation, or because they wanted to go out and "prove themselves"? Or perhaps the poster on Facebook is trying to focus on the blessings the United States enjoys with the assumption that all of those blessings are directly from Jesus. If that's the case, did Jesus need these soldiers to fight and kill other people in order to maintain a divine system of giving blessings to the nation? Couldn't he have blessed the nation without the bloodshed? 

I do want to honor those who have died in the service of this nation of which I am a part. Whether I agree with the war in which they died or not, that in no way diminishes the extent of their sacrifice. But I want to honor their death because it was the moment at which something honorable, something lovely, something marvelous ended. Every life is valuable and the end of life should always be treated with respect and honor in recognition of that which is lost. But to intimately connect death in battle with the sacrifice of Christ, or the continued blessings bestowed on a nation, seems to only diminish the death of a soldier rather than to honor it. Is a person's death only to be honored if it can point to a spiritual sacrifice? Is a person's death only to be honored if it can mean more good things for me as a citizen? I believe the answer is "no" to both of those questions. 

Waiting for the Lion's Roar

I came across another old notebook from 1996. It had several poems in it, most of which were rather drivel-ish. But I still rather like this one.  I assume the lion mentioned is Aslan. 

Waiting for the lion's roar,

  we go about our business.

Occasionally we remind ourselves

  that the roar is coming.

But we must continue to live

  until it comes. 

And we get caught up in the living.

I wonder if there is a way

  to be always expectant

  and always living.

Planting a tree when you're 70 years old...

Sojourners' email newsletter today included the following quote:

You must take living so seriously that even at seventy, for example, you'll plant olive trees -- and not for your children, either, but because although you fear death you don't believe it, because living, I mean, weighs heavier.- Nazim Hikmet, Turkish poet, persecuted during the Cold War for his communist views (1901-1963)

I have two questions:
1) What do you think of his reason for planting a tree.  Do you think that living weighs heavier than death? and
2) Would you plant a tree when you're 70?

Death is a Donne Deal

I think I'd be remiss in talking about death if I didn't mention what I believe Death's fate is in the end. John Donne (one of my favorite poets) summed it up far better than I ever could:

Death Be Not Proud

by John Donne
(1572-1631)

---

DEATH be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadfull, for, thou art not so,
For, those, whom thou think'st, thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poore death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleepe, which but thy pictures bee,
Much pleasure, then from thee, much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee doe goe,
Rest of their bones, and soules deliverie.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and sicknesse dwell,
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then;
One short sleepe past, wee wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; death, thou shalt die.

(copied over from About.com)

End of Life Discussions

OK, so perhaps we can't prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that we're all gonna die, but I'd venture to say that it's pretty likely to occur. It's going to happen to me. It's going to happen to you. Whether we want to talk about it or not, it's one of those pieces of life that we get to undergo whether we ever talk about it or not.

But why don't we talk about it? Why does the inclusion of "end-of-life counseling" in the president's health care proposal stir so much acrimony? I can understand where people have concerns about a government run health care system or they might have issues with the increased cost to the nation or other similar issues.  But fighting the inclusion of counseling to help people know what their options are when making a living will? What is it that we're really fighting there? Is this a means for the nation to channel Dylan Thomas in raging against the dying of the light? It's not the counseling we're afraid of. It's that bit about death.

The older sister of one of Nathan's former classmates died last Thursday. She was 14. She was hit by an SUV as she biked across a crosswalk and her body was thrown 60 feet. I heard that her mother spent most of the day thrown across her body crying. I can't get that image out of my mind. I ache for her loss and I imagine myself similarly prostrate across one of my children's lifeless forms if the same were to befall us. And that leads me to appreciate and love and cherish my kids all the more. They're not dead, yet. I'm not dead, yet. But all of us will be one day. Recognizing and being aware of that fact enables me to be more thankful for the life we have today.

The New York Times had an article on end-of-life care and counseling yesterday entitled, "At the End, Offering Not a Cure but Comfort." The article touches upon different people's ability to cope with the fact that they are nearing the end of their life. It described a cancer patient whose response to the tragic news that her cancer was terminal was to state matter-of-factly that she's rather live, thank you very much. Her response echoed the statements made by a gal in our church who passed away several years ago from a brain tumor. She "just wanted to get on with life." ... Isn't that what many of us would say when faced with death? "No thank you. I'll pass on that. I've got better things to do." And yet it comes anyway.

Why is discussing death left to the goths and morbid teens who have more life in them than the death they love to ruminate on? Why are we not more aware of death in our day-today lives? Rob and I both remind our kids that we're not going to be around forever.  We don't know the day of our demise, but we recognize that it's coming. We know that each day we have in which we can be with our kids and love them and raise them is a gift. We try hard not to take that for granted. As much as I'd love to promise my kids that I'll always be here for them, I'd be a fool to say that. There are no guarantees.

I would have thought that Terry Schiavo's situation would have taught us all a lesson. Death is coming and it's not always as clean and definitive as one might hope. Talking about death with our family members might seem like a real downer, but if something like what happened to Terry happened to us, wouldn't that downer of a conversation take on a whole new light? Wouldn't our family members feel relieved that we'd written down our wishes? The pain of the death might not be diminished, but at least it wouldn't also be shackled with the doubt, guilt and other issues that can come with trying to decide about pulling that plug.

The beautiful thing when talking about death is that it proves to be such a perfect foil for life. It illuminates and highlights the precious nature of that which we often take for granted. As Natalie Babbitt said in Tuck Everlasting, "Don't be afraid of death, be afraid of the unlived life."

Objective, Absolute, and Universal Truth

“The idea of truth as objective is simply that no matter what we believe to be the case, some things will always be true and other things will always be false. Our beliefs, whatever they are, have no bearing on the facts of the world around us. That which is true is always true — even if we stop believing it and even if we stop existing at all.” -- atheism.com

“An absolute truth, sometimes called a universal truth, is an unalterable and permanent fact.” -- wisegeek 

It's popular in Christian circles to talk about Absolute Truth.  It's spoken of as one of those defining features that sets us apart from the rabble. While all the world is going to hell in a hand basket because they're a hedonistic bunch of Relativists, the Christians sit smugly upon their stack of Absolute Truths which, conveniently enough, can only be deduced directly from the their own religious text, the Bible. So if you were ever to come to the point that you agreed with Christians on their absolute truths, you'd have to first except the absolute truth that the Bible is the only source for absolute truths.  (This has been my experience, at least, when it comes to discussions among Christians on Absolute Truth.  I'm not trying to say this is absolutely always how the topic is approached.  I'm just giving a relativistic (and snarky) description based on my own personal experiences.)

And yet, if there is objective truth, shouldn't those truths, by definition, be evident, not only to Christians, but to all people? For example: “All people will die.”  This is a basic and objective truth that I think you would be hard pressed to find someone who would disagree with you on. (Of course, Rob's answer was a prompt, "But you can't prove that." I suppose that just because everyone that's gone before us has died doesn't mean that everyone now or to come will also die. So yeah, I can't prove that. Ironic, isn't it? Something that I'm pretty sure everyone would agree to as an absolute truth can't be absolutely proven beyond the shadow of a doubt. No wonder discussions of truth often end up sounding more like squabbles than revelations.) Though the Bible addresses the mankind and death issue ("There is a time for everything... a time to be born and a time to die..." -- Ecclesiastes 3:1a, 2a), I think you can find those who have never once read the Scriptures who would also agree with this truth. In my mind, the fact that you could find people of all ages, cultures and religions who agree with this statement is a strong indicator that the statement is a universal truth (even if you can't prove it). 

In fact, as much as Christians love to try to prove that there is absolute truth (even to the point of proving that what someone hasn't said is wrong), I think the real heart of the matter is not that there are those who believe absolute truth doesn't exist, but that there are those (most of us, in fact) who simply forget these absolute truths.  

And so, when someone comes along and reminds us of some of those absolute truths, their words have the ability to strike us at the core.  They resonate with what we have already experienced to be true, and they spur us on to remember and live by those absolute truths. 

A friend of mine recently posted Steve Jobs' 2005 Stanford Commencement Address, which resonated with me not only because I think it was a well written and organized speech (and because I think Jesus would use a Mac (a computer that Steve Jobs invented)), but because it jived so well with the book that several gals and I have been reading and discussing in our Bible study group on being peacemakers. Here was a man who attributed nothing to God, who very well may never have read the Bible, and who didn't in any way claim to be a Christian, and yet what he said struck me as being true.  It agreed with beliefs (I think of them as "truths.") that I have found in the Bible.  It agreed with experiences I have had in life. In my opinion, Steve Jobs struck upon several Absolute Truths in his speech. 

He had three main points: 

1. The dots will connect.  Trust that and it will give you confidence.
2. Crap happens. Use those times to start over - to redirect yourself again towards what you love. 
3. We will all die. So choose well how you will live and don't get caught up in silly fears and pointless worries. 

OK, so point number one is the most shaky in terms of being "absolute."  Though many people believe in "destiny" or "karma" or "predestination," there are also many that believe life is random.  As a Christian, however, I find it interesting that Jobs would hit upon this point. Proverbs 3:5 says, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding."  In Steve Jobs-ese that would read, "Trust that something -- your gut, destiny, life, Karma, whatever -- is connecting the dots in your life.  Looking forward, you won't see how these dots are going to connect, but looking back, it will become clear." (That's not a direct quote from Jobs.  It's a rearranging of things he said into an approximation of the Proverbs 3:5 format.)  Jobs added that, "Believing that the dots will connect down the road will give you the confidence to follow your heart even when it leads you off the well worn path. And that will make all the difference."  

Jobs' second point, that loss can bring you around to seeking after what you love, is also something that can be found in the Bible.  Paul wrote that "when you put a seed into the ground, it doesn't grow into a plant unless it dies first." (1 Corinthians 15:36) The bounty doesn't come until after there's been the struggle that the seed must endure - burial, death, and new life from the husk that's left behind. Jobs also hit upon several other ideas under this second point: "Keep Looking, don't settle," "Sometime's life's gonna hit you in the head with a brick. Don't lose faith," and "You've got to find what you love." In other words, persevere, keep faith, and don't forsake your first love.  (Jobs sounds like a 21st century echo of Saint John as he wrote to the church in Ephesus (Revelation 2:1-7)).

Steve Jobs concluded with the point that I've already addressed above: We're all going to die. He says, "Remembering that I'll be dead soon is the most important tool I've ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything -- all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure -- these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart." This is wisdom.  Steve Jobs has stated quite eloquently here what even Saint Paul struggled to get across to the early Christians living in Rome -- "We were therefore buried with [Jesus] through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life." (Romans 6:4) 

When Saint Paul entered a new city and started speaking to the people there, he often began not by pointing out all the ways in which he disagreed with them, but by pointing out a truth that they could all agree upon. For example, in talking to the men of Athens, he referenced one of their own poets, giving support to his words not by sourcing his own religious text, but by referencing something of theirs. (Acts 17) I can only imagine what our own society would be like if Christians stopped trying to prove that they had the corner on the market for truth and rather started reminding others of truths that we all agree upon (as I feel Steve Jobs has done, heathen though he might be). From there could spring other discussions, such as trying to determine the source of those truths.  But rather than pushing a cultural debate founded upon disagreement, we'd be beginning from a point of unity.  How different would our conversations be then?

Absolute Truth shouldn't be a dividing point used by Christians to attempt to chasten the world.  Rather, Absolute Truth should be that which breaks down the boundaries between us and others and enables us to speak with thoughtfulness, respect, and well... truth.