How to be kind, practice kindness.
How to be more spiritual, practice spiritual disciplines.
How to be more like Jesus, practice loving your neighbor.
When we choose our actions, we choose who we seek to become.
As we act, so we become.
(Still thinking about how Paul led us into forming our spiritual life in his Letter to the Romans.)
We are attending an small event to honor or remember someone. We begin to overthink details—what clothes should we wear, how the hair looks, jewelry (for those who indulge), and the like.
This could be what is called using university terms majoring in the minor.
We remember—it’s not all about me.
Just don’t wear or do something to detract from the event and the other.
The major is—it’s all about them. It’s not all about us.
I’ve long contemplated rewriting Noel Paul Stookey’s song Hymn to update to today’s experience. This was a Jesus Movement song of a person critical of organized religion. It includes the phrase, “They passed a basket with some envelopes; I just had time to write a note; And all it said was ‘I believe in You.’“
The net result of the Jesus music of the late 60s and early 70s was the capture of the music by music producers leading to the rock and roll mega church model.
My take on that movement is that people want to be entertained—a rock concert with a TED talk. Not much community. Some have bustling missions service, but other do not.
Yesterday’s daily tip from Seth Godin re-energized my thinking when he said, “Most people in our culture would like to be entertained not transformed, lectured at instead of learning.”
What about you? What about me? Are we like that?
My wife and I vacationed in Scotland for a bit longer than a week. While experiencing Edinburgh and perhaps a Scottish ale or a Scotch whisky, we also toured areas and heard many stories of the history of the land.
Several guides recounted the tales of Mary, Queen of Scots, a Catholic clumsily beheaded by her Protestant cousin Queen Elizabeth I of England. About the same time in Scotland appeared a Protestant preacher called John Knox. (Presbyterians should know who he is.)
And once again as in many vacations in Europe we heard stories of devastating violence and bloodshed as Christians took up arms against Christians.
Even in America today, while we have only a little blood shed, we experience Christian v Christian strife.
Andy Stanley recently spoke on finding out what breaks your heart.
One thing that breaks mine is this strife and bitterness between groups of people each professing to follow Jesus. There is some sort of paradox with this.
I’ve studied theology. It can be a way to challenge the thinking power of the brain.
I’m much more interested in developing the practice of experiencing God and following Jesus’s instructions to act out love toward the neighbor—wherever or whomever they happen to be. Why go out of our way to make things complicated?
I remember the date, place, people with me, and cause the last time my anger overcame me. To be honest, anger was often lurking just below the surface looking for a trigger event to take over. From the time I was a youth, I could flip from quiet to not quiet, so to speak.
Ancient wisdom tries to teach us about becoming the master of our emotions.
Science meets wisdom. In a recent newsletter on health and fitness, Arnold Schwarzenegger writes:
When stress hits, most people think they need to shut down their emotions to stay in control. But real control isn’t about avoidance—it’s about awareness. Emotions are messengers, not marching orders. The goal isn’t to feel nothing. It’s to learn how to feel without losing yourself. If you’ve ever been told to “just let it go” when you’re stressed or upset, you probably rolled your eyes. But there’s actual science showing that accepting difficult emotions — instead of fighting them— rewires how your brain works. Accepting your emotions activates completely different brain networks than trying to suppress them, leading to less rumination and self-criticism.
Some people let go—much to their later recriminations. Realizing that expressing that emotion may not be appropriate, we try to suppress it. Schwarzenegger paints this picture:
Think of it like this: suppression is like holding a beach ball underwater—it takes constant effort and energy. Acceptance is like letting the ball float on the surface—no struggle required, and your brain can redirect that energy elsewhere.
I often turn to the wisdom of ancient Christians. In this case, the master of psychology, John Clymacus, aka St. John of the Ladder, who wrote The Ladder of Divine Ascent.
He says:
The first step toward freedom from anger is to keep the lips silent when the heart is stirred. I say, Amen to that, brother. The next, to keep thoughts silent when the soul is upset; the last, to be totally calm when unclean winds are blowing.
Achieving this calm can only come if we have practiced becoming calm through meditation and intentional prayer.
And another thing from John—All anger and bitterness disappears before the fragrance of humility.
Humility may be a tough path for us Americans. Maybe for other humans, as well. Yes, another practice—putting others before ourselves.
While on vacation in Scotland last week, I saw news that crossed my technology professional side regarding Artificial Intelligence with my spiritual formation professional side about being able to say any hateful thing without repercussion. (I really don’t know the whole “woke/anti-woke” non-debate. I really don’t want to know! Being me, I would probably not endorse either camp.)
When politicians speak, I use a translator like the Babel fish in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. Some people call it a BS filter. That’s a little different. I use that often listening to marketing people.
But something I do know—because of long, hard, bitter experience. Words matter.
Used properly they build up, heal, guide. Otherwise they spread hate, hurt people, demotivate.
It’s easier to slow down and choose the right ones than it is to try to take the wrong one back.
At least four books have come my way recently about the importance of holding civil conversations with people with whom you may disagree.
Most would go along with my previous post about Be Curious, Not Judgmental. Ask questions and listen—honestly, really, listen. Not to argue. But to understand. It’s not noises in the ear canal. Engage brain, engage heart, focus on the other.
Kindness, care, gentle spirit, accepting (even if not agreeing).
Like the Youngbloods sang in 1967, “Come on people now, smile on your brother, everybody get together try to love one another right now.”
[Note: The Babel fish is a small, bright yellow fish, which can be placed in someone’s ear in order for them to be able to hear any language translated into their first language. Ford Prefect puts one in Arthur Dent’s ear at the beginning of the story so that he can hear the Vogon speech.}
This is becoming a mini-series on curiosity.
Let’s see…a student for 17 years, teacher for one, school board member for eight, wife taught in elementary school for 35.
Some people dislike public schools (meant to provide a common education for everyone in a democracy) because they want to see teachers’ salaries reduced. Some because they don’t teach political or religious philosophy they espouse.
I side with Seth Godin. He calls it the industrial-education complex. Schools, public and most private ones (and most universities) exist to churn humans through the system such that they can provide bodies in industrial-type jobs. Not thinking or creative jobs. Assembling things, entering data/writing rote reports, attend meeting after meeting (sort of just like school).
In this post called Why and How from a couple months ago, Godin tackles science non-education. (Interesting that my copy of Burn Math Class arrived today. I’ve had the same feelings about math class as science class—and I like both things.)
Let’s get rid of science class in school.
Instead, beginning in kindergarten, we could devote a class to curiosity and explanation.
A class that persistently and consistently teaches kids to ask why and to answer how.
The unacceptable single-word answers are “because” and “magic.”
Curiosity is a skill, and it can be taught.
I learned biology when my parents bought a microscope, and I began exploring. I read about planets, and relativity, and dinosaurs. I learned electronics math while learning how to assemble and analyze circuits. I bought a 22-scale log-log slide rule (still have it) and an electronics math slide rule in the early 60s while in high school.
I was frustrated by chemistry. I kept wanting to ask Why. He kept saying to memorize the balance equations or whatever. The only math class than kept me interested was geometry. The teacher said what I’m really going to do is teach you to think. And he did. Solving proofs for theorems was pretty cool.
Everything in school could be taught as an outgrowth of curiosity instead of ramming down a curriculum devised by people far away who haven’t seen a classroom for decades.
Turn the teachers and kids loose and let education happen.
(By the way—works for spiritual topics, too. Curiosity led me to mediation, which led to studying the “mystics” and Desert Fathers, which led to studying the Christian thinkers and leaders of the first 300 years of the movement, which led to deeper understanding of the New Testament, which led to deeper meditation awareness…)
For Jarrod and my Ted Lasso-loving friends.
Axios Finish Line evening newsletter always brings a brief, insightful nugget into my inbox—sort of like the cherry atop the sundae of the day. Axios is one of my two main news sources. They are journalists and a business, so they do drop into click-bait headlines at times and have too much “he said, she said” reporting with occasional speculation rather than strictly reporting facts. Even so, they are brief and even handed. Finish Line tops off the day.
CEO Jim VandeHei riffed off one of the best scenes in TV history from the Ted Lasso show. This is the dart contest scene (Oh, I forgot I was left handed). As Ted explains to (villain) Rupert, “If you were curious instead of judgmental, you would have asked if I had ever played darts.”
Lasso quotes Walt Whitman (not exactly accurately sourced), “Be curious, not judgmental.”
VandeHei writes, “Those four words can radically shift how you think and feel about politics, social media posts, your employer, and even friends and family.”
It’s natural to react emotionally or defensively when people do or say things you think are wrong — or flat-out bonkers. But try the opposite approach for a week: Be genuinely curious why they do or say those things. Worst case: You’ll burn less and learn more.
He offers four possible arenas to test drive. I’ll offer a glimpse. Click the link above for the full thought (short read).
1. Politics: Stop assuming the “other side” is corrupt, inept or dumb.
2. Social media: Never in history have humans wasted more time getting more worked up over more topics than when doom-scrolling. Instead of taking the bait, take a break.
3. Workplace: One of the smartest things we did when founding Axios was to be extremely transparent about the business and our beliefs. This demystified things internally — dramatically reducing the gossiping and wonderment about what we really think.
4. Family & friends: Almost every time my wife, Autumn, is pissed at me, it’s because I didn’t take the time to ask one simple thing: Why do you feel that way?
Try asking and listening rather than judging and talking.
I haven’t missed two posts in a row in a very long time. We vacationed in Scotland for over a week. We returned from 67-70 deg F temperature to 92 deg F with high humidity and lots of pollen. I was congested, mistakenly took some Benadryl which enabled me to sleep all day Friday. I need to pitch that stuff from my medicine cabinet.
Yes, Scotland should be on your list of places to visit. Considering that the forts close to where I grew up were remnants of wooden outposts along the Ohio/Indiana border built by General “Mad” Anthony Wayne in the 1790s, walking through a Roman fort (OK, in England) built around 200 AD, multiple abbeys built around the year 1000, and accounts of the rich history of Scotland were memorable.
Also that the tour guides unanimously voted thumbs down on Braveheart. One guide generously allowed that Mel Gibson in no way was trying to be historical. For one thing, Lowlanders did not wear kilts in the time of William Wallace. And “Braveheart” referred to Robert the Bruce who died on a pilgrimage. It seems that they cut his heart out, put it in a box, intending to send it to (I believe) Jerusalem to finish the pilgrimage. The heart didn’t make it there. Was found some years later. They called it Braveheart.
You’re wondering about curiosity?
I may have mentioned before that I am almost infinitely curious. If curiosity killed the cat, as the saying goes, I’ve been burned. But I still want to know a lot about a lot of things. We are privileged to be able to make these trips. We began 2025 in New Zealand, have visited Nova Scotia, and now Scotland. In between we were in Charlottesville and Williamsburg, Virginia. Later we’ll have a vacation in Hilton Head.
Another bit of privilege—our son is a United Captain flying 757s. He flew our flight to Scotland. That’s also pretty cool.
Philosophers from ancient times have written about what constitutes a good life. I love it when modern science validates ancient wisdom. This link points to a report about a study that suggests having a life of curiosity, perspective-changing experiences leads to a well lived life. Certainly working with people from many countries and visiting more than 20 other countries changed a socially inept country boy into a slightly less socially inept, but more understanding, adult. It’s been good.
Be curious, not judgmental. (See the next post.)
My “virtual friend” Jon Swanson wrote in his newsletter, Finding Words in Hard Times, Do what you can. It’s enough.
He told this story:
Yesterday at the hospital, a couple came up behind me. The guy put his arm around my shoulder. I asked why they were there. It was a different person than usual that they were visiting, worrying about. I looked into her eyes and said, “Go home. Get rest. There are people here to watch by night.” And then I said, “Most of what I do is give permission. To stop. To breath. To not work so hard to measure up. To stop expecting so much.”
Our church had a weak leader once upon a time. I was on a committee but assuredly not a “leader” of the congregation. For some reason people would come to me with ideas for a ministry. I didn’t have any power, but I simply told them, “Just do it.” Like a presentation from General Colin Powell I had, “It’s easier to ask forgiveness then to ask for permission.”
I give you permission—to be kind, to be generous, to start that ministry. Just do it.
Gary Mintchell
Faith Venture 