These are my shoes…kind of quirky, kind of fun. You can design your own on the Adidas website. I had my name added, not because I was living in fear that someone would steal them, (although they are cool), but as a reminder that it is my feet that are walking this path. I am the one putting one foot in front of the other, or standing still, or even on the occasion walking backward. These are my shoes, no one else’s. Only I can get myself where I need to go. It’s true that at times, others have given me direction, cleared obstacles and smoothed the way and some have even put obstacles in my path to trip me up…but I am responsible for how I move forward. Regardless of what is ahead, I can choose to dance or drag my feet. I can stomp my feet in a tantrum at the unfairness of it all or simply let it go and run forward as fast as I can. I am the only thing that can stop me. When I allow chatter like “You can’t do that”, or “You’re not worthy” to impede my steps, I can’t blame anyone but me. No one can limit me, but me. The intent of the universe is for each of us to achieve our highest purpose.
This is underlined even more for me as a woman of faith. When God is for me, who can be against me? The boon of spiritual assistance gives me no excuse. As I look to my future and I walk in my shoes, I remember that blame will stop me in my tracks, and will never get me where I need to go, as will lending an ear to those who want me to fail. I walk in my shoes…no one else. While my journey may be a singular affair, the upswing is that I don’t have to walk alone. I can choose companions to walk along side me, which does abate the loneliness of my life’s adventure. I’m better now than when I was younger at avoiding those who slowed me down or confused my sense of direction, yet I still have to remind myself once in a while when it is time to move out of a crowd and forge ahead on my own. And while my journey may include walking in step with fools at times, there are many times in hindsight where I realize that I myself was the fool. I am thankful for those angels God put in my path when it was most needed, and I hope I’ve been an angel to others in their time of need too.
My steps may not be as quick as they used to be and my shoes have taken on a more practical nature, but I embrace the adventure of every new day…I forge on happily, just me and my shoes.
So, while this may have started as a note to my sons, I think it is a message that everyone can take away something from. Nothing drives the need to focus on health like watching someone else lose theirs. Our bodies are the only tool we have to empirically bring our purpose for being on this planet to life. Scripture tells us that our bodies are temples…except not as something to worship, like so many do in this body-conscious world we live in, but because our bodies hold our spirit, our soul. It is the greatest part of what makes us human. For those of us who were born with a body that is in tact, functioning, and whole, it is our responsibility to take care of it to the best of our ability. When I think of how much more information is available today than when I was a child, it is almost mind-boggling to me to see how much more unhealthy we are. We have developed a keen ability to rationalize away our poor choices. We have taken short-cuts to avoid changing our life style by using quick fixes, focusing on short-term results, and popping pills to cover symptoms, or achieve weight loss, or bigger muscles or just to defy the aging process.
We have a health care system that is broken. We can’t fix health by focusing just on disease. We have to ask better questions about what are the root causes of ill-health. Then, we have to be willing to hear the answers. You would be surprised how many people don’t really want to hear the answer to what they need to do to be healthy. I have watched many people turn away because the thought of actually having to change their lifestyle is just too daunting. I hear phrases, like “I can’t sign up for this because my insurance won’t cover it.”, “well that’s just my genetics”, or “it costs too much to be healthy” and it literally makes my blood boil. I would like to say to them, “if your car broke down would you pay to fix it?” “what good is saving for retirement if you’re dead?’ “do you really think your insurance company gives a crap about doing what’s best for you?” and I usually don’t, because I know that they are just not ready to accept the truth yet. Why is it that people find it so hard to take responsibility for their health? Is the answer more frightening than the disease? Please, if you think it comes down to philosophy…that isn’t the problem. I hear the same frustration from all different kinds of doctors all with different philosophies. We do not see our bodies as temples. If we did, we would avoid all packaged, GMO altered, trans-fat- to empty calorie fake foods (for weight loss). We would make the necessary changes to our priorities, that put our bodies ahead of recreational purchases (your car should not cost more than the food you’re willing to put in your body). We should not subsidize the foods that we should avoid, rather, we should subsidize the foods that our bodies need to thrive. We have given in to what is quick and what feeds that pleasure part of the brain to the point that we disregard what we may know to be true…that what we’re eating just isn’t good for us.
To start, I would say nature made is best…which does not include genetically altered foods, or livestock that isn’t raised humanely and is full of antibiotics. Fruits, vegetables and lean meats…avoiding grains which are inflammatory foods (and genetically altered). Move every day, get your heart rate up and drink a lot of water. Change your life-style to avoid stress, which may mean living simpler lives, but I guarantee you will sleep better, which is also a necessary part of health. Make taking care of you body, mind and spirit the top priority of your life. It will make you better able to share your unique gifts to the world.
When it comes to influence, sometimes I think we underestimate the simple things, those simple gestures that may not seem so significant at the moment, but whose gentle influence has somehow altered the path we walk in life. My father-in-law is like that. He is a central figure in our small hamlet of St. Croix Falls, Wisconsin. My husband’s family ran the funeral home in town, and everyone knows his father John. I always laugh when my husband answers the phone with the phrase “Who died?” because I know he is talking to his father, who mentally keeps record of the people in his community. He’s the kind of guy, you could meet once, and I don’t know if it was because he was a mnemonic master, but he would not only remember you but have pertinent details about your family and life events as well. We’d travel all over the country and, it happened all the time, we would be at a gas station in Texas, or some other far out place and someone would come up to him and say, “Aren’t you John Edling?” and talk about how he had helped them, or how he knew a family member of theirs. When I was in Law School, my torts professor had to miss a class because of the death of his mother and when he came back and found out I was married to an Edling, he told me that my father-in-law had arranged the funeral and what a wonderful person he was…(his father had been the butcher in town). Things like that happen a lot. John was voted the best athlete of all time in St. Croix Falls a couple of years ago, his high school basketball team still holds the record for the greatest point spread in Wisconsin state high school tournament history. He in turned passed that passion forward through his children, and countless other town athletes. Even after he stopped driving, he would still find a way to stand on the side lines of every varsity football game.
Right now, John is sick, and he is moving closer to the Kingdom of God. His mortal life may be coming to a close, but the ripples of his influence will go on and on forever. To him, it is effortless to help and comfort people, which is why he is so beloved. Simple gestures are what make him a great person, gestures that touched more hearts than he will ever know, and will ripple outward through others who learned how important those gestures can be to someone’s life. I hope it makes him happy and gives him comfort to remember that. I also know it will give comfort to My mother-in-law Rayola, to Steve and his siblings, Jude, David and Barbara to remember how many lives he has influenced. He is a true character, and in many ways, Steven is just like him…generous to a fault, kind and altruistic, passionate about sports and feels totally comfortable in hanging out in boxer shorts. Blessings John, fear not…I see a heavenly ticker tape parade in your future soon.
I’ve been working on a dramatic piece called “Stations” about Jesus’ final walk to Golgotha for a while now, and it’s had many incarnations. Lately, though, I keep coming back to the agony Jesus felt in the Garden of Gethsemane before the culmination of his great act of sacrifice. How deep was the agony he felt that it would cause him to sweat blood, to panic so deeply, that even after all his miracles and raising Lazarus from the dead, he asked his Father to release him at the last-minute? So, as I often do, I prayed to God for some insight into those few hours underneath the tree…and this is what came to mind. Music is part of my process, and this piece in particular from Eric Whitacre peeled away much of what I was afraid to see, invoking such grief and deep emotion that I was almost too embarrassed to write this post. So I add it as a context, while you read that hopefully it will add a dimension to my words.
I see a solitary figure under a tree, with sleeping men laying a short distance away. His loneliness is palpable and He prays out to His Father for assistance and comfort. An angel appears and quietly sits beside him, and I draw closer. The solemnity of the angels’ presence is palpable, his tone somber as he speaks to Jesus. What transpires between them is an understanding of what is about to happen in the next few days, that agony has begun. The angel shows Jesus the sinfulness of humanity throughout the ages and his fury grows blinding hot, more than he ever did at the scribes and pharisees, or any other behavior we have witnessed thus far. In his rage, he turns away and tells the angel that perhaps humanity is beyond saving. The thought of sacrificing himself for such an abomination is unbearable to him. The angel than takes his hand and shows him the victims of that sin…the beauty of God’s creation destroyed in the darkest and most heinous fashion and then racked in anger and despair he begs his Father to release him from drinking from this cup.
I try to empathize with Jesus, and though I haven’t seen all that the angel has shown him, I hope I have seen enough evil in my life to maybe create a speck of understanding. Who would die for them? The angel then turns to me and brings Jesus attention to where I am standing. Up until this point I am an unknown presence, a simple voyeur watching a play. As I am drawn in, fear wells up inside, I am exposed…in all my fallibility it is me that Jesus sees now in his deepest agony. The angel points to me and says…”It is for her that you must bear this burden, so that she might live.” Jesus turns to me and immediately the anguish in his face dissipates for a moment and he sees me, purely, flaws and all. I am no longer an insignificant one of millions who is graced because of something that happened 2000 years ago. I am removed from that safety of history and stand right before him, weak and pathetic. The angel wants me to be the reason that he follows through with what will be the most painful, demoralizing and fearful moments of his life. Completely shocked and appalled and before I can run away to avoid the guilt of being the reason for his pain he turns to heaven and says “Father, let your will be done.” He turns to me resolved and with such eyes of love that I fall on the ground weeping. I scream at him, “Don’t make me the reason, I am not worth going through what you about to go through.” I fall with the weight of this realization clear in my heart to the ground…the phrase “He died for my sins” blaring into my head, and I am unable in that raw moment to safely intellectualized anything. My soul in broken, I see that now.
Jesus pulls me up, and the moment I look into his eyes, my burden is lifted and the weight of my sins are gone. In an instant, I know that it wasn’t only just my face that he saw but every face seen singularly, yet all at once. His appearance becomes a bit heavier and darker and I understand the transference of my sins and all whose eyes he gazed upon has begun. The aura of his purity is blackened…I know now that it will be easy for him to be handed over for crucifixion. The blackness of our sin becomes like a cloak…hiding his true nature by reflecting back to those that gaze upon him their own sinfulness. Magnified by a millennium of sin I see now how they can hate him. Every Good Friday service, at the part in the story when the crowd screams “crucify him!”, I am certain I would have stood up to the crowd and fought for him. Now, seeing him with the weight of that darkness, I don’t think I could. It is so easy to hate the sin worn by others, when we can’t see it in ourselves.
My once broken soul has been made whole by his sacrifice, the cloak of my sin is gone. The light of his grace can shine unfettered and bring healing to the world. It can shine through me if I choose to be his instrument of love and peace. And as often as I may fail, this visit to the garden will inspire me to keep trying…every day until I die.
This one is hard for me. Not because I have trouble voicing my opinion…but because this issue is so rooted in fear and hatred of the gay community. Strip away all the rhetoric and what is left is fear at its weakest and hatred at its strongest, neither of which is an acceptable motivation in my book. Scripture teaches that the opposite of love is fear, so that is where I stand first and foremost. Regardless of where anyone of you stand on the issue at this moment, which is a freedom richly fought for and celebrated in this country, level heads must prevail…which is easier said than done. I know that. I’m not the one fighting for my self-respect. What I do know, is that I have many dear and beautiful friends who are gay whom I see as naturally no different from any of the other dear and beautiful heterosexual friends I have. Sexual orientation isn’t something I even recognize so by extension regarding love, marriage and children I see no difference. Period. Except I know that in society there is one. I know social media is rife with profile picture changes and scripture quotations making a clear unwavering stand for their positions on the issue. So how do we come together? We talk, we discuss, we challenge old judgments and work together, and for my part as a Christian…work together as the body of Christ.
When I hear people quote Scripture as an indictment against homosexuality, I wince. Most often because the words are taken literally out of history and out of context. For example, I did question someone when they quoted the first chapter of Romans to me about the literal word of God, but balked when I challenged them on their view on gun control. Jesus did tell us to love our enemies and turn our swords into plowshares after all. I really wasn’t trying to be a smart ass…really I wasn’t. I did want to support the notion that it is dangerous when you use scripture to justify a bias literally on one issue and disregard it in the next. I also challenge all of you who use Romans 1:24-32 to continue reading to the next chapter where Paul admonishes people for judging…you will be judged by the same measure with which you judge others. Never mind that Paul in the first chapter was talking about the state of Rome under Nero, after the edict of Claudius expelled all Jews and converted Jews out of Rome…that he feared for converted Gentiles who lived there that they were falling into old pagan practices. Never mind that the wickedness that Paul lays out in verses 29-31 could describe any one of us…so to heap all those horrible qualities on just gay people is ridiculous…period. I also believe that to take Jesus words in Matthew as an indictment against gay people is just short of blasphemy… yeah, I said it. Jesus was being tested by the pharisees about divorce as a means to find something to use against him, as they often did. Jesus spoke to the hardness of the people themselves as a reason for divorce. He went on to make sacred a union that in his time was often unfair to women, who had no voice, were considered chattel, and who could be dismissed by her husband if the marriage was unsatisfactory. To use the beauty of a verse that celebrates love into a tool that indicts gay people renders its message void, especially since the verses that follow have Jesus blessing the children, entering the kingdom of God by loving God and your neighbor as yourself and concluding with how hard it is for a rich man to get into heaven. It’s curious how few take the verse “Go and sell all you have and follow me” literally…not that I would either, I’m just saying.
Jesus spent his whole ministry challenging the notion that we get to pick and choose who we love, and who we should treat with respect. He spent his time with those whom society rejected and he often berated those that held positions of esteem…because it is wrong to use position and power to keep others out. He is the corner-stone whom the builders rejected. He championed our eternal destiny by bearing our flaws. I can’t help but think, as Easter our most sacred day comes near, that we do him a dishonor when we focus more on judgement than we do championing love. Love, as I’ve stated before is so much bigger and more powerful than our limited comprehension of it. When it comes right down to it as Paul goes on to say in Romans…”There will be joy, honor and peace for everyone who does good…there is no partiality with God.”
So, what does perfection look like? The dictionary defines it, in part, as the full growth or development of anything, or a completed state. So beyond all the traditional trappings…I ask this question, “Given that God is perfect what does God look like? Avoiding the easy traps of artists portrayals, I start with the old testament when God was always shrouded somehow, because to look upon God physically meant certain death. The metaphor that came to me as I was struggling to find something completely unique, was that of God as a flasher–God revealing the deeper realities of life, for God’s pleasure, and our limited ability to see God in full glory. NOW WAIT INTERNET, DO NOT FREAK OUT, KEEP WITH ME FOR JUST A MINUTE! I have waited for enough time after writing this draft to validate that I have not caught on fire, I have not turned to stone and my head hasn’t turned all the way around once…so just bare with me, if God’s OK with it, so should you. First of all, the reason I use the flasher image is that God has been clothed in so many different layers over the centuries, it’s about time to challenge many of these historical notions. So when all the layers are stripped away, what do we have left? I don’t have that answer yet, but and this is a big one, BUT I certainly had to ask this question first? Am I willing to see God naked?
Culturally, nakedness is far more associated with sexuality and porn than personal knowledge and perfection. The kind of exposure from someone who reveals themselves out of pleasure without being asked to do so is not only uncomfortable, many times it is a criminal offense. Perhaps it is our discomfort and limited capacity for understanding perfection that God chooses to show us only so much at a time. It can be more than a little daunting to entertain the possibility that many of the fundamental assumptions we have about God are really ill-fitting costumes that not only hide, but distort God’s very essence. I say this, in part, because if we were so clear about God’s true nature, wouldn’t our world be in a much better place? So let’s go back to before being naked was an indecent thing.
According to the book of Genesis, when Eve, then Adam ate from the tree of knowledge, bringing sin into paradise, they recognized their nakedness, tried to cover themselves up and hid from God. Note that being naked was a good thing until they sinned and they began to see themselves differently as a result. It certainly doesn’t imply that being naked was intrinsically a bad thing does it? We are created in God’s image, after all…free of any wardrobe malfunctions. Isn’t it more likely that the need to cover ourselves up as a result of recognizing our imperfection naturally flows to why we try to cover up God as well; we don’t want the constant reminder of how imperfect we really are. History certainly says so, for Christians anyway, look how humanity treated Jesus. If we are truly created in the image of God, and by our own choice moved away from that image, it seems to make sense that in order to discover God’s true nature we deal with our own nakedness…and the neurosis that comes with it first.
Looking at my own naked flesh is mixed with many different emotions. At my age it is impossible to avoid gravity, period. I will never resemble those beautiful women in the magazines, and I guess I’m OK with that, but sadly, though, I never thought my body would ever resemble one of those prehistoric fertility goddess figurines comprised of sagging breasts and a marsupial like stomach either…and while spanks work miracles, they do have to come off some time. But at the same time, this body of mine has survived breaks, falls, injuries, childbirth, dancing, and the many things I have done for God…all that comes with living life. Our bodies are the empirical evidence of all that we have seen and experienced. So why is it that we worship bodies that bear no reflection of the greater lessons in life? Isn’t it true that most supermodels hit their peak before the reach the age of majority? Why focus on a blank canvas, or a body free of experience? I truly believe that God’s true nature is probably closer to the reflection most people see of themselves in the mirror–a body worn with experience. Let’s go back to the definition of perfection…the full growth or development of anything, a completed state. A life lived fully, should be seen as closer to being perfect than running away from it through growth hormones, plastic surgery or the other myriad of ways we try to look younger. I’m not saying that we allow ourselves to waste away, our bodies are temples after all…but the obsession with youth has to stop, especially since it sends an unfair message to young people that their bodies are the standard to which all perfection should be measured. Would I go back to the perky body I used to have? Ah, now therein lies the rub…the temptation would be great, but seriously no, I would not. I think I would focus on all the wrong things. As much as I struggle with aging, it is a natural part of coming to completion…and it is up to me, with the help of God to figure out how to wrap my head around it. Perhaps, it will mean for me that I am one step closer to seeing God.
I find it a little surreal talking about evil with any real clarity because it is so weighted in stories of fantasy, monsters, fallen angels, hell and brimstone, red demons etc. So, let me start with this: Christian Scripture is heavy on the notion that all things work out for those who love. Then where does the big “E” come into play? I’ve never met the prince of darkness personally, but my firsthand experiences of evil through perhaps his minions were good enough to convince me of its existence. In addition to be donned, the Father of Lies, I think another good moniker for Satan is the consummate actor and tailor: one who tempts us to layer ourselves in costumes and convinces us to portray ourselves as anything but what we truly are. We then, become so deeply confused that we lose the ability to ask for the right kind of spiritual help.
For example, look at the chaos that gun violence has brought to this country. There are those who think the government is evil because they believe their second amendment rights are threatened. There are those who think the guns themselves are evil and that they should be eradicated. I’m sure God has entertained prayers to abolish both. Where then, does the true root of evil lie? I would say the true root lies in the most fantastic misdirection of all. First, that God has not conquered Satan yet (in classic terms), and secondly, we think we know exactly what evil looks like and what fuels it. When Jesus died, and before he rose, we are told of a short trip he made to hell where he basically opened a big ol’ can of whoop ass. What does this mean? I think that the whole point of Christ’s sacrifice, essentially, is that for those who choose Him, evil cannot infect them…they have a spiritual vaccination, of sorts. Evil is like an opportunistic virus; it cannot survive on its own, and when we accept the grace of Christ, we have a spiritual armor to protect us. Without a willing human spirit to infect, it can never thrive. Think for a moment, what better way to create a foothold in human lives than for evil to skulk around shrouded in disguise in order to infect our perception and cloud our vision, especially when we are at our weakest, or just before we are ready to make a huge move forward in spiritual evolution. Evil, then, like a plague that spreads like wildfire, tries to paralyze us with us with fear so we become obsessed with how to combat it, even though we’ve had the cure all along. And we fight it, most often in the name of God and religion. Aldous Huxley, in The Devils of Loudoun (regarding the crusades) explains it like this:
“Those who crusade not for God in themselves, but against the devil in others, never succeed in making the world better, but leave it either as it was, or sometimes even perceptively worse than it was before the crusade began. By thinking primarily of evil, we tend, however excellent our intentions, to create occasions for evil to manifest itself…To be more against the devil than for God is exceedingly dangerous.”
So I say, the best way to combat evil in our lives is first and foremost to practice love, and never let fear take hold of how we live our lives. Then, and only then, will we develop the acumen to recognize, free from disguise the face of evil…I will save that for another post.
As it so happens, when I am able to articulate a bit of wisdom, or share a challenge of sorts… others may sit back and breathe a sigh of relief they were able to move a bit down the path of righteousness…I just close my eyes and wait for the karmic tumble that I know I’m about to take. Generally, it manifests itself in a couple of ways, 1) In the form of a shit storm, most often metaphorical, where I am barraged by spiritual excrement in the attempt to call “hypocrite” and make me take back what I said, or 2) In the form of a person who makes it almost impossible to put into practice what I’ve just put out into the vastness of cyberspace. This time, it was number 2…yes, pun intended. Mind you, rarely does anyone put my teeth on edge like this particular person…a person who at our clinic in a full waiting room, once showed me a disgusting souvenir that his Philippino “girlfriend” sent him and was just barely able to scream at him to put it away before I vomited in my mouth. This is a person who after bringing me to the edge of my fragile sanity so many times finally stopped speaking to me because I wouldn’t let him come over to our house and use our pool for “rehabilitation”. Finally, I was free…of course until I shared my words of wisdom about seeing everyone through the eyes of grace. HMMMM! Was it the devil or God who decided to test that notion? Whatever, it doesn’t matter…because I get it. Sometimes it’s HARD, so hard that when I picked up the phone with my bright message of, “It’s great day at Edling Chiropractic…” that horrible, horrible voice, forgiving me for being so inhospitable made my hand involuntarily rise to my temple and start pounding the phone against my head until the phrase, “See him through eyes of grace” popped in there. Lord of All, I love you with all my soul…but that, my deity, SUCKED BIG TIME! Ok, I tried. I was kind. I kept my boundaries. I wasn’t mean. I listened, even though he only called to talk about his bracket for March Madness. I am humbled, and now I need a shower.
My son asked me if you have to be a priest to be pope…The answer is no. Even I could be chosen, and while there is a greater chance of hell freezing over, I wouldn’t. But I might accept the challenge to teach those cardinals a few things. If I were to give an intro to Prophets class…it would start like this:
To be a true prophet, you don’t need a pedigree…in anything. You do, however, need to say this prayer: “Honoring all the talents I’ve been given, take me down the path I need to go to fulfill my greatest purpose in life and in turn I will promise to keep walking despite the fear that wells up in my throat, the overwhelming feelings of inadequacy that I may face and the desire to give into the temptation to run in the opposite direction.” If you can say those words then you are ready. Please note, however, that once you say them…God will take you at your word. Changing your mind is not an option.
The Oxford English Dictionary defines a prophet as the inspired or accredited spokesman, proclaim-er or preacher of some principle, cause or movement. A prophet is one who speaks for God as the inspired reveal-er or interpreter of divine will; one who is held or (more loosely) who claims to have this function; an inspired or quasi-inspired teacher. No where does it say that a prophet must have any greater handle on the truth or is better suited for it than anyone else. You must see a truth, be inspired by it and believe that it is God who is the source of that truth. What separates the prophet from a charlatan or someone of feeble mind? Nothing. Only time, commitment to the truth, and complete surrender to the divine will can keep you on the right path.
Is truth absolute? If it is, our human limitations probably keep us from fully comprehending it. Is the color blue still blue in the dark? Because color is dependent on light and the reflection and absorbtion of its waves to produce a color in the spectrum, perhaps it’s substance exists only in the realm of potential until light shines upon it. Truth, like color, depends on exposure to the light in the same way. The first challenge of a true prophet is to shed light into the darkest places in their lives. Sometimes the greatest truths lie hidden along side those things we try to bury in darkness. Before you begin this journey of exposure, let me comfort you by saying that things are far less frightening or threatening once you see them in the light.
Once light shines exposes your personal environment, you may be shocked. Life is not as clean and neat as one might expect. Initially, it may be a shock to see how one can live a midst such apparent filth. Life, however, is messy, as is growth. Embracing the fact that “shit happens” to everyone and it is a normal part of anyone’s journey is essentially the first step in understanding it’s importance in allowing the truth to take root and flourish in your life. Growth cannot occur in a sterile environment Dirt is essential, as well as fertilizer. The richest and most natural source? Manure. The simple decision to learn from the “shit” that is present in your life is what determines whether it will help you grow or turn you toxic. A prophet uses everything that happens to enrich their truth.
When you go through the often difficult process of uncovering and embracing a truth, you may have a tendency to tell everyone you know. In your zealous enthusiasm, you may want to strip illusion from the eyes of everyone you love, show them the error of their ways, and challenge them to change. But when you deprive them of the process, truth can be nothing but a bitter pill. Not everyone is ready to let go of illusion and face the truth. Many people may even be angry with you for judging how they live their lives…even though you both know it could stand improvement. The most effective prophet allows themselves to be transformed by truth, and then lives it. Talking about it is often too confusing. When others see the transformation in you and desire the same transformation, then it is time to talk…and yet whether or not they choose to follow the process is still up to them. A prophet is only as effective as the truth they live.
After the initial freedom of embracing a truth, there is often a period of time when you may look back with nostalgia at life shrouded in illusion. It may appear simpler and easier in many ways. This is absolutely normal. Elevating one’s reality brings change to every aspect of life. The brain is forced to work in a completely new and different way. The best way to handle this change is to free fall into it. The phrase, let go and let God is a necessity during this period…as well as remembering the prayer you recited at the beginning of this process. Don’t fight the changes that truth brings and the transition will be easier. You will also be better prepared to face what is to come.
Once you begin living in higher definition, it may become easy to judge others who live with less clarity as stupid or having little to offer you on your journey. WRONG! Everyone and everything that crosses your path is an essential element on your journey. A wise prophet understands that the big picture is comprised of smaller, seemingly insignificant pieces. Even the darkest of characters can provide an opportunity to share the light of truth. Embrace each person or event as the greatest gift. Gratitude builds hope. Hope illuminates what comes next.
This concludes first series…since I’m sure we’ll see black smoke this evening…stay tuned.
I don’t know if it is God’s great humor or the hubris of Jonah that resulted in my isolation in the belly of my own metaphorical whale, but sans the fish smell it was no less cramped, dark, and completely uncomfortable. When it comes to the non-prodigal son and Jonah, I can completely sympathize with their tendency to mope over a last-minute save. Today, they are my brethren. Granted, I may be speaking in the voice of that petulant child that roars her ugly head once in a while, but the feeling of putting my ninja on and wreaking havoc on all the vipers and hypocrites and evil doers even has my rational, old soul, adult self jumping on board. I am tired of bad people getting away with bad things and coming to Jesus to make it all right. I wish omniscience was one of my super powers so I would have the ability to distinguish between who has really learned the hard lessons and has changed their ways and the liars who just pretend to. Then I could spontaneously combust the wolves with my Darth Vader like stare. But alas, that would make me no better than they are, focused so outwardly on the sins of others that I can’t see my own. I did despair a bit at this awareness because Jesus has taught me to keep forgiving the bastards seventy times seventy….which is how I ended up inside my whale. My internal rantings began to the tune of “Walking the Line” and all the difficulties that come with that when there are so many who appear to reap benefits from not only walking far away from the line but taunt the rest of us who do…only to descend even deeper to conclude with a chorus of “nana nana booboo” while I visualized the evil doers being herded off a cliff somewhere. The echo of all that whining bouncing off the blubber of my internal whale became so deafening that I told my internal petulant child that enough was enough already. The descent into emotional and spiritual retardation, became an invitation to revisit why it is I choose to live by a higher moral imperative anyway. It isn’t because I believe that I get to go to heaven, or avoid a heavy karmic backlash. Truly, I believe it is because it makes the most sense to me. Choosing a path of love demands certain behaviors laid out for me in the New Testament. Jesus did prescribe a way to live in the world that will build the Kingdom of God and in order to get out of the belly of the whale I had to figure out that holding others accountable is God’s job and not mine. The phrase, “it’s not fair” is wiped from my lexicon. That is not to say that I won’t continue to fight for justice, rather, I will trust that Jesus’ great gift is very much alive and well even when it appears that the line isn’t even visible anymore. I have learned a great lesson these past days and have regain a greater peace.
The events of this week challenged me to revisit some of the primary qualities of leadership that I studied for my Master’s degree in Organizational Leadership at St. Catherine’s University. At the time, I remember thinking how simple these qualities were and how perhaps unnecessary it was to pay all this money for an actual degree that rests on a lot of simple common sense. But after all these years, I’ve changed my tune. I’ve discovered that common sense isn’t necessarily inherent when it comes to those in positions of leadership, whether it be from the top or down to the bottom of small town America. The thing that struck me most this past week, is the seamless ability for leaders to pass the buck when faced with a crisis. When an issue exists that challenges the function of a group, it is a primary function of the leader to address any issue with honesty and integrity. To say, “It’s not my fault”, or “they just wouldn’t listen to me”, or “they aren’t good enough to be here”, or to simply point the finger in some other direction away from themselves isn’t an examples of acting with integrity or honesty. It is also a primary function of any leader to assess what action is essential for the success of the entire group, and not just themselves…even if it means being honest about a mistake made and accepting the consequences with integrity, be it the leader themselves or a member of the group. The kind of behavior that speaks so much louder than rhetoric, is embracing every opportunity to learn with humility and courage. The need to be right, or infallible often takes over the need to be accountable, embrace our imperfections and learn from the lessons that life brings.
I don’t believe that leadership is an innate quality, it is developed over time in the simplest of ways…often facilitated by facing difficult challenges at the hands of those whose desire it is to overpower, rather than empower. I’ve tried to explain that to my sons after they’ve suffered the wrath of the hierarchy of power in school…they call them “douche-bags” I just call them bullies, that their influence won’t last beyond high school. Maturity brings clarity. I’ve told them if I were able to go back in time with a video-tape of what the “douche-bags” of my time looked like 30 years later and show my young self that this is why you don’t need to cry after being left out of the next big party, I wouldn’t have given them so much power to second guess myself. Making the choice not to drink and behave like a “skank” (also my son’s words) was the best choice in the long run for me. Time has a way of pulling back the curtain and exposing the true nature of those we handed our power; they really aren’t wizards after all. And while I may not have made those choices altogether because of my great leadership skills, I did have people in my life who gave me support for the choices I needed to make for me. More importantly, I learned to choose behavior that matched my belief system, whether or not I got support from the rank and file. Standing up for your beliefs is always hard, but it does get easier the more you do it
I wish there were more examples of the kind of men and women whose actions are void of condemnation but ripe with acceptance and high regard, who are honest and have courage enough to be imperfect and accept the necessary consequences, who don’t hide behind the spin of words that paint false perceptions of perfection, who have the foresight to lead us to a better place even though it may be difficult and most importantly, a leader with such commitment and belief in their mission that giving up in the face of adversity will never even be a remote possibility. I don’t care if it is the pope, or a president or the captain of a basketball team. The kind of qualities I just mentioned apply in any situation. I know there are plenty of examples of great leaders out there, I just want them to pushed to the forefront so they can expose how poorly those in positions of power are really doing when it comes to leadership. So, this week…share on your social media outlets, those great leaders who have influenced you in your life, whether they be Julian of Norwich, a favorite of mine, Martin Luther King, Einstein, or even a great coach. Show the world that there are good and true leaders in the world, whose honesty and integrity make them shine!
Please note: if I had multiple personality disorder, this post would belong to an emotional primordial element of myself that I blacked out into after walking downstairs into the man-cave and stepping on cat vomit on the carpet that has been there for months because it has literally petrified. I try to never go into the basement…for that very reason. Once in a while, though, I succumb to my optimist self, and believe the men in my house when they tell me the basement is clean and venture down into the pit. Well, like Charlie Brown keeps falling for Lucy’s football schtick I was blinded by my own optimism. The bastards lied. I didn’t lose emotional consciousness right away…I have dealt with all sorts of clashes with bodily fluids and wastes that are not my own, it was the array of filth, the biodegradable kind mingled with the non-recyclable kind and the ensuing stench rising up from the metamorphosis that pushed me over into blind rage….you know the kind that produces spittle from screeching unintelligible sounds like a she devil that has been caged way too long. I saw all too literally the remnants of all things tasteful and beautiful about our basement decor crumbling away and remember screaming something about acting like they were from the backwoods of Appalachia only to realize that I was insulting those poor backwoods people in Appalachia for using them in comparison to these animals. I know, by the look on their faces that I needed to put myself in a time out, so I opened a good bottle of white wine brought up some olives, salmon and almonds on a beautiful dish and locked myself in my room. After watching a mini Gilmore Girls marathon I felt my sentient self returning a bit…although I felt dizzy every time I heard them call me from the recesses of our house. I used to laugh at the antics of living in a household of boys. Now that they’re huge burgeoning men…I just think they’re stupid. The fact that their frontal lobes are non-functioning and they’re bombarded with hormones is of no comfort when their father mirrors the very things that are leaching away at my psyche. Pray for me.
These are my shoes…kind of quirky, kind of fun. You can design your own on the Adidas website. I had my name added, not because I was living in fear that someone would steal them, (although they are cool), but as a reminder that it is my feet that are walking this path. I am the one putting one foot in front of the other, or standing still, or even on the occasion walking backward. These are my shoes, no one else’s. Only I can get myself where I need to go. It’s true that at times, others have given me direction, cleared obstacles and smoothed the way and some have even put obstacles in my path to trip me up…but I am responsible for how I move forward. Regardless of what is ahead, I can choose to dance or drag my feet. I can stomp my feet in a tantrum at the unfairness of it all or simply let it go and run forward as fast as I can. I am the only thing that can stop me. When I allow chatter like “You can’t do that”, or “You’re not worthy” to impede my steps, I can’t blame anyone but me. No one can limit me, but me. The intent of the universe is for each of us to achieve our highest purpose.
