Try this as you sit for a few minutes each morning in the quiet of the early dawn. Each time you breathe in know that you ARE. Each time you breathe out smile back to life.
Things in life come and go—just like your breath. Learn to let things come and then go.
When we experience even a bit of calm with breath, we also experience a bit of the Spirit in us. We let in the light that illuminates everything and never goes out.
The story of the three men walking from Jerusalem to Emmaus captivates me to this day.
Evidently things had settled down a bit after Jesus’ execution. Although the stories of his subsequent appearances had spread through the community of followers leaving more questions than answers.
We don’t know why these two, only one named in the story and we don’t know really who he was, decided to walk from Jerusalem. They did not seem to be fleeing in haste. They were simply walking and talking.
A brief aside—this activity should become part of our routine. This walking and talking. We don’t walk enough. We don’t discuss deep subjects enough. I heard of a program where a guy organizes trips to places like Thailand for a week of walking and talking. But I bet the neighborhood park would do just as well.
So, they were discussing all they had heard and seen. A third man joins them, seemingly from nowhere. But, perhaps there were many other travelers along the road, so it wasn’t that surprising.
And this man seemed to know the Law and the Prophets more thoroughly than anyone they knew. And he explained from the beginning to the end how all the words of the Law and Prophets pointed to Jesus as the Messiah, not the warrior king as David but as the one Moses predicted who would be greater than he.
They stopped and ate. When the stranger broke bread and gave thanks, they recognized him as Jesus. And the man disappeared.
What was it about the act of breaking bread (it came in little loaves back then, not sliced in a plastic bag) that was so distinctive? I can picture a man taking a loaf of flat bread in both hands, breaking it, and giving thanks to God for the bread. But my imagination falters at that point.
I think about that story often. I wonder if I would recognize Jesus if he were to come alongside me during my daily walks. I wonder if I would allow him to show me things I thought I knew (depend on it, those two men had also memorized the Scriptures) in a new and better light. I wonder what Jesus actually told them, word by word.
The woman told me, “People give us nasty looks as we park in a spot marked for handicapped people. However much on the outside my husband looks healthy, he has a heart condition that restricts his ability to walk far and fast.”
Sometimes we criticize people who appear healthy yet have a debilitating illness hidden from our accusing eyes.
Sometimes we must have an experience to nudge us toward empathy.
This past week, I suffered an allergy attack that sapped most of my energy provoked considerable congestion. I am prone to certain attacks from pollen, but seldom this bad this long.
Couple that with an abnormally busy schedule—meeting, early a.m. Blood draw, doctor appointment for regular checkup, dinner meeting, early meeting, breakfast meeting, finally two Zoom calls Friday afternoon to cap the week. It was all good. But when I wasn’t meeting, I was sleeping.
I thought, most people would not know how devoid of energy I was on the inside while meeting on the outside.
Further, I thought, how often am I guilty of judging someone on the outside unaware of the struggles going on deep within?
The class at the university taught management of public organizations. I don’t remember why, but that class introduced me to a psychologist called Leon Festinger and the idea of cognitive dissonance.
When I am introduced to new information, sometimes as I digest it I experience some amount of stress figuring it all out. Of course, that’s my personality type. Some people solve that problem by just rejecting any new information. That’s their loss.
Try out these thoughts, for example. Don’t we all think in terms of ourselves? Seems natural.
Today, Jon Swanson pondered as he leads us through this part of Lord’s Prayer, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done.” He notices, “Not my kingdom. Not our kingdom. Your kingdom.”
The pastor of the church we now attend likes to say as he institutes the Lord’s Supper, “Not my table, not your table, but God’s table.”
Cognitive dissonance? What? It’s not my table to decide who and what? It’s not my kingdom to rule over this and that?
Who is this God who thinks he’s in charge? Oh, I guess he is. Whether I like it or not. And I’d better digest that piece of information for my own well being.
They were a group of five middle-aged women. Friends. Meeting at the downtown hotel lobby bar after work, maybe. Having drinks and appetizers. Boisterous without being obnoxious. And in my line of sight when I looked up from my laptop.
I noticed one got up and walked about 10 feet away to take a picture. I usually offer to take the picture so that they can all be in the photo of the moment. I was about to get up when a guy got off his bar stool and loudly offered to shoot the photo. Then he took about 15 or so more. Loudly having them pose in different ways.
He was so loud, I couldn’t help but watch for the next half-hour as he gradually moved in on their table. Soon he pulled up a chair at the high top, bought a round of drinks, and established himself in the group—sort of. He talked. I could hear him from 30 feet away. The women were still paying attention to their friends, but quieter now.
I hate it when my self-awareness kicks in with the realization that I’ve talked too much. I wonder how often do we get caught up in a situation where we are simply talking at someone rather than conversing? Isn’t that a caricature of a Christian? Do we really want to be that guy?
Not I.
Sorry for the Greek word as the title of this meditation. I have been thinking on this word since I heard it on a podcast recently.
I shun as much as possible to use traditional Christian words due to the historical and emotional baggage that often accompanies those words.
What is the first picture or thought that comes to mind when I say
Repentance!
I immediately think of the preacher who comes to No Name City in the play and movie Paint Your Wagon. He hopes to convert all the heathen to Christianity by shouting at them.
In your Bible, you may see the word Repent or Repentance. Translators often render metanoia that way for principally historical reasons.
Perhaps a better rendering of the meaning involves the concept of changing the direction of one’s heart. Or changing the direction of one’s life.
Another concept would be transforming. This might mean becoming aware that our heart will not accept new things, new people, new ideas. It is “hardened.” Then it somehow becomes transformed into a generous, loving, peaceful heart.
Metanoia. I was once that way; now I am this way. And I, as well as all those around me, am better for it.
We were on the Greek island of Crete last week. It is winter in the Mediterranean. Cool, rain. The wind from the sea must have been gusting at 40 mph. Maybe there was just a glimpse of the stories of Paul and ships on the Mediterranean at the wrong time of year.
We walked along a fortress wall by the harbor at Souda Bay. Bad weather and rough seas changed our itinerary from Heraklion. No problem.
Here grew one lonely dandelion amidst the rocks. The dark spot on one flower is a honey bee. One plant struggling up from the rocks, yet seemingly successful against all odds.
One bee. Found a flower. Some juicy food to take back to the hive.
Sometimes we struggle against the odds in our spiritual development journey. Sometimes we find success.
Sometimes we do our job. Maybe alone. Against the odds. Yet, we find nourishment.
In the land where I grew up the oldest human structures dated from the 1790s. AD. Or CE if you are an historian.
We have just returned from a couple of weeks touring the western edge of Turkey (Turkiye) and the east of Greece. Once all Greece. Of course then Roman, Ottoman Muslim, then independent.
We visited Ephesus. The Apostle Paul walked those same marble streets that we just did. As did the Apostle John who accompanied Mary, the mother of Jesus.
Before travel all of this is theoretical. Just something I read perhaps in the Bible or other history. Perhaps taught in school.
Traveling we stood right there. We could see marble structures that were there more than 2,000 years ago. This is where history was made. This is where Paul spoke about one true God. Where the economic livelihood of many depended on selling silver trinkets to religious tourists to the Temple of Artemis. Where they led a riot to the auditorium trying to capture and kill him.
And where John brought Mary to escape the ravages of Jerusalem. Where John also spoke of the one God, also threatening the livelihood of the silversmiths. When he agreed to leave town to go to the island of Patmos, he provided a house for Mary out of town on the mountainside to offer a measure of protection from the mobs.
Here is a photo of her house and one of the streets of Ephesus.
My point is to encourage travel. Burst out from your preconceived ideas. Experience the world and other people.
I don’t know all of my weaknesses. But I know some important ones.
I can easily be addicted to computer games. I had a little handheld football game in the late 1970s. I was on that a lot. Gloria Mark in her recently released book Attention Span says that can be a good way to relieve cognitive stress. But, games have become so immersive that I’ve avoided them for many years.
My emotions are easily aroused. I’ve learned (mostly) not to reply to lies spreading around social media. But awareness tells me to severely limit my exposure. My mental health and stability have been greatly improved.
I am aware of the state of mind of people around me. I learned that at a very early age thanks to an emotionally unstable home life. That’s often a good thing. I can respond appropriately. On the other hand, sometimes I can misinterpret (see above about emotions).
Developing awareness has improved my life a bit at a time. I’m aware when I’m with God and when we’re apart. I’m aware when I’ve become too withdrawn and need to interact with others.
Awareness is a beautiful thing. It helps me live a better life and probably makes things better for those around me.
Nassim Nicholas Taleb wrote a series of books on preparing to survive random events. The book is part philosophy of life and part investing in the markets. I’m rereading Fooled by Randomness: The hidden role of chance in Life and in the Markets.
Reflecting on the book, I thought of all the random events in my life.
Perhaps you can think of random events from near and far that changed everything. But your preparations could make all the difference.
We purchased a coffee mug when we visited the Will Rogers estate a couple of years ago. It says, “Live your life so that whenever you los, you are ahead.”
Here are a few suggestions:
Faith Venture 