Faith Venture

The economist John Kenneth Galbraith on the challenge of being open-minded: “Faced with the choice between changing one’s mind and proving that there is no need to do so, almost everyone gets busy on the proof.”

That’s not a generational thing. Don’t think Boomer or Gen X or Millennial. It’s a human thing. We hate to be wrong. Jungian psychologists who love the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator would say that there is perhaps one personality type out of 16 that is open to changing their mind.

And now the Instagram / TikTok / YouTube striving for notoriety age is upon us. When one has established a persona outlandish enough to attract a following of hopefully millions, changing becomes impossible. You could lose millions of followers. That’s millions of little endorphin strokes a day. That’s potentially loss of power and/or money.

Some people say they wish to change others when in reality they just want to build little clones. Find something to cling to that agrees with your group so that proof is handed to you and the uncertainty of openness is avoided.

Others find the tradition of the flowing spirit. Opening themselves to God daily, they seek where they have gone the wrong way and seek that change back into the spirit. Oh, Lord, I have done it again. Made a wrong assumption. Thought I knew better. Listened to the wrong advisor. Help me change direction and get back on the way.

The sin doesn’t lie in changing your mind; it lies often in not changing your mind.

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun.

Eccliastes 1:9

Reading thought-inducing serious books juxtaposed with detective novels became a life-long habit begun in high school. Since the beginning of the pandemic, I’ve read (actually read again) the Robert Van Gulik series of ancient Chinese murder mysteries, the entire Perry Mason series by Earl Stanley Gardner, and the entire Nero Wolfe detective series by Rex Stout. John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee series constitutes the latest addiction. He, by the way, is by far the better writer, although Stout is also excellent.

Published in 1965, A Deadly Shade of Gold delves into some political topics.

Today’s media in the US (the British tabloids are another ball game entirely) is completely built around sensationalism. It may be “liberal” or “conservative” or “objective”, but the objective is all the same. They must capture as much attention as possible to keep viewers/readers with them as long as possible in order to sell more advertising. The only difference with trade press, where I lived for a time, is that the writers are “encouraged” to write only about advertisers for the same reason–that is where the income flows.

Read today’s hype and you’re told that everything is new and everything is going to hell and you’d better get scared. Oh, and keep watching.

Then I read MacDonald’s book. The political backdrop to the story (which is always about McGee leaving the comfort of his houseboat in Lauderdale, FL to help return stolen goods to its rightful owner while getting beaten to a pulp) of Gold from 55 years ago reads just like a current headline. It’s the same injustice, the same battle lines, the same fears. There is nothing new under the sun.

Except, there is. There is a chance for each of us to renew ourselves by deciding to develop daily spiritual practices that bring our mind, heart, and soul into constant communion with God. The Kingdom of Heaven that Jesus proclaimed. It doesn’t have to be the same, the elderly Solomon’s lament notwithstanding.

Has it ever struck you that those who most fear to die are the ones who most fear to live? Life is flexible and free, and you are rigid and frozen. Life carries all things away, and you crave stability and permanence. You fear life and death because you cling. You cannot bear the thought of losing a relative or friend; you dread losing a pet theory or ideology or belief. When you cling to nothing, when you have no fear of losing anything, then you are free to flow like a mountain stream that is always fresh and sparkling and alive.

Anthony de Mello

Your orthodoxy or theory of life can be like an anchor that provides certainty. You know where you are. You can compare to others and know how to relate. But it, ahem, anchors you to one place.

Or, it can be like your home marina. You know where it is and know you can return, but you are free to sail, experience others, grow, learn.

Some approach God as an anchor to which cling. Sometimes desperately. I have always opened myself to God, to see where the experience may go, to see where I need to learn. But also to allow healing and understanding to infuse. Therefore, I am not afraid of facing the need to change my mind or attitude. I am not afraid to learn and experience other people and cultures. Leave fear behind to replaced by excitement of the stream of life.

Martin Buber wrote, “Once they told Rabbi Pinhas of the great misery among the needy. He listened, sunk in grief. Then he raised his head. ‘Let us draw God into the world,’ he cried, ‘and all need will be quenched.’ God’s grace consists precisely in this, that he wants to let himself be won by humanity, that he places himself, so to speak, into human hands. God wants to come to his world, but he wants to come to it through men and women. This is the mystery of our existence, the superhuman chance of humankind.”

Martin Buber entered my life through his book I and Thou (Ich und Du) when I was yet in high school. That was my introduction to Jewish thought aside from the Christian interpretations of Hebrew scriptures (the Old Testament).

The Associate Pastor of the church we left when we moved last year has a favorite phrase about being “the hands and feet of Jesus.” Same idea.

Which raises today’s challenge for living life with-God. How today am I bringing the grace of God into the world around me? How are you?

When the Apostle James tells us to listen quickly and speak slowly, there are several applications that come to mind.

One could be a tendency to jump to a conclusion too quickly and speak too soon only to discover how wrong we are.

That makes me a fan of “philosophical razors” that “shave off unlikely explanations.”

For example, try:

Occam’s Razor: Simpler explanations are more likely to be correct.

or…

Hanlon’s Razor: Never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity. (I find that one useful when scrolling through social media threads.)

or…

Hitchen’s Razor: What can be asserted without evidence can be dismissed without evidence. (Useful for avoiding arguments that will go nowhere.)

Some philosophy for staying out of trouble.

I wrote yesterday about how I need to learn to ask better questions.

There is another type of question. “What should I do? What is the best path I should take? Where should I go?”

I reflected on a few of the decisions I’ve made. I see where there were people to whom I could have gone to ask advice. Most of our personality derives as a reaction or defense to our early childhood. Certainly circumstances from my early family life drove me to the defensive posture of looking inward and being a bit of a loner. For other people, there are other reasons not to ask for help.

We moved to a new city last year. Even during the pandemic we would see neighbors at times. Asking for advice on shopping, doctors, restaurants, and the like constitute a natural response.

A saying in the book of Proverbs in the Hebrew scripture tells us to make use of many advisors to become wise.

Many times, I have been the advisor. But sometimes, I must seek for advisors of my own.

Another way to ask.

I am remarkably poor at asking questions. I remember chemistry class in high school. Instead of asking “will this be on the test?” I asked “how do they know this?” The former question gets you on the path to an A. The latter sets up a path toward learning, but not toward a good grade.

Later in life, I became a magazine editor. There would be press conferences. I didn’t learn much about asking questions. There were always those who asked the obvious question that had actually already been answered in the presentation but the presenter was thrilled to have the opportunity to expand. There were a couple of people who answered the question they were about to ask (surely an art form). I, if interested, would want to dive deeper into how the new product worked. And…I didn’t want all my competitors to hear the question. So, I kept my peace.

I still have a problem asking good questions.

So, I heard about a book which is now on a delivery truck heading to my house, The Book of Questions by Gregory Stock.

And I will answer your question. Yes, when I receive it and digest it, I will share it.

Now, I have two interviews with CEOs this afternoon about manufacturing topics. Can I come up with some questions before the book arrives?

Three social network apps reside on my iPhone/iPad. Facebook, LinkedIn, and Twitter found homes in a folder marked social. I open them perhaps twice per day. Most days, I browse at most about five minutes each. LinkedIn is (mostly) business, so I may get into a conversation there. I block all political opinion mongering on Facebook and mostly look at “Pictures of a Beautiful Life” and notifications of birthdays and the like.

I have three Twitter streams–technology/manufacturing, soccer, spiritual life. Oh, and that’s where I get my local news.

They all want me to visit and stay. They will “promote” a couple of new people or relevant posts to suck me in. Because I follow some national church leaders, I’ve been seeing “tweets” from people who have been greatly damaged from the fallout of the demise of some prominent church leaders. These are painful stories of hurt, bitterness, unkindness, personal attacks on them.

You have to wonder how an organization that was supposed to be celebrating the resurrection of Jesus, making disciples, loving one another get to such a sorry state?

Has any DMin or PhD researcher ever looked into the ration of people helped versus people hurt by churches?

Then I turn to the Christian Bible–the letters from Paul, James, Peter. Within 20 years of the beginning of the movement, people were bickering, hurting one another, discriminating against one another.

I guess it’s not a church problem. It’s a people problem.

A people problem means our problem. We must search into our own hearts from whence all good and evil flow. It lies with each of us to decide–am I someone who heals or someone who hurts?

I can’t fix the world. I can work on fixing me. And then trying to be a healer.

But my heart still aches for all those I see on Twitter and elsewhere who have been so torn apart by the people in a church.