Anna, Texas, with a population less than two thousand, has been rocked by a series of suicides and suicide attempts. Three times in a sixteen-day stretch the police responded to calls involving apparent suicides or suicide attempts. Churches in the city urged residents to gather at Slayter Creek Park in Anna on May 19 to pray for the city, its residents and for its leaders.
Sooner or later suicide becomes personal for each of us. Someone we know, or someone close to us takes their life. A number of years ago, my cousin’s husband, a psychologist with a doctorate from SMU, wandered out into the woods behind their home, sat down at the base of a tree and shot himself.
Suicide, whenever and wherever it occurs always leaves a wide swath of emotional destruction among family members and friends leaving in its wake feelings of confusion, anger, guilt and grief. Like all wounds, time helps, but the shadows of suicide never completely disappear in the lives of those closest to the victim.
Suicide is a global problem. According to the World Health Organization, the United States is 40th in the world with 11 suicides per 100,000 persons per year. In every country, the rate of suicide is far higher among men than among women.
The primary symptoms leading to suicide appear to be depression and hopelessness. Almost everyone gets depressed at one time or another. Some of the greatest personalities in history have battled depression, including Abraham Lincoln. But when depression slips into despondency and hopelessness, an irrational moment can result in the shocking headlines we read in the newspapers.
As human beings, each of us faces a difficult moment at some point over the span of our lifetime. In today’s connected world we can span the globe on our keyboard and, at the same time, not know the name of our neighbor next door or across the street. Individuals come and go in such a hurry that the support network of family and friends has shrunk in today's society and some feel they have no place to turn.
None of us can read the minds of those around us, but each of us can resolve to be a better friend, a better listener and simply be there for others. Suicide is never God’s plan for anyone’s life. God always offers a future and a hope. He can remove the guilt that often leads to despair. “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the Lord. Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be white as snow.” (Isaiah 1:18) Even when circumstances are darkest and the future seems impossible, God has a way forward that we cannot see. “For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope.’” (Jeremiah 29:11).
If you are despondent and have had suicidal thoughts or if you know someone who is in need of help, call the suicide and crisis center for help at 214-828-1000. You can visit their site online at www.sccenter.org. Talk to your local minister or your physician. Never give in to hopelessness. There is always hope in God. (Romans 5:1-5).
Monday, May 17, 2010
Monday, May 10, 2010
20/20 Faith
Myopia. I learned the word when I was ten years old. I learned it from the optometrist who checked my eyes and told my parents that I was nearsighted. I didn’t know I was nearsighted. I thought everyone saw everything the way I saw it. Trees were green blobs. The landscape blurred into blotches of pink, green, brown and blue, like an Impressionist painting. (Maybe Claude Monet created Impressionism by painting what he saw). I have to admit I wondered how other kids could catch and hit a baseball. I never saw the ball until it was on top of me. I could see some vague arm motion in the distance and then, wham! The ball was in my face.
My first pair of glasses changed my world. I discovered leaves on trees. I could see people’s faces inside their cars. I could read the blackboard from the back of the room. As a teenager I became the clean up hitter on the all stars, and could catch a fly ball over my shoulder while galloping toward the centerfield fence like Joe DiMaggio. When I returned to the dugout, I heard the coach say, “I always knew if he could see it he could catch it.”
Myopia is not only physical. It is spiritual. We are all born spiritually nearsighted. Like my childhood years, we think we see things clearly, but we don’t. We are unaware of what we don’t see. The only person who ever had perfect vision was Jesus. That is why He said, “I am the light of the world; he who follows Me will not walk in the darkness … if anyone walks in the night he stumbles because the light is not in him.” (John 8:12; 11:10)
When the prophet Elisha and his servant were surrounded by an enemy army at Dothan, the servant was gripped with fear. But Elisha told him, “Do not fear. Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” When God opened the servant’s eyes, he saw that “the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.” (2 Kings 6) When we are gripped with fear and despair we need God to open our eyes so we can see clearly. “If God be for us,” Paul said, “who can be against us?” (Ro. 8:31)
Jesus once met a blind man in the village of Bethsaida. Jesus laid his hands upon him and asked him, “Do you see anything?” The man responded, “I see people; they look like trees walking around. Once more,” the Bible says, “Jesus put his hands on the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened … and he saw everything clearly.” (Mark 8:22-25). Many of us are like that blind man. We may be religious. We may attend church. But we need a “second touch” from God so that we can see clearly.
We are born with spiritual near sightedness so that we only see things close up, our own self interests. As a result we are often filled with fear, doubt, anger, resentment and despair. When we turn from our sins and place our faith in Christ, He is able to touch us so that we see clearly and walk in the light. Only Christ can cure the spiritual myopia that afflicts us from birth and enable us to see the world as God sees it.
My first pair of glasses changed my world. I discovered leaves on trees. I could see people’s faces inside their cars. I could read the blackboard from the back of the room. As a teenager I became the clean up hitter on the all stars, and could catch a fly ball over my shoulder while galloping toward the centerfield fence like Joe DiMaggio. When I returned to the dugout, I heard the coach say, “I always knew if he could see it he could catch it.”
Myopia is not only physical. It is spiritual. We are all born spiritually nearsighted. Like my childhood years, we think we see things clearly, but we don’t. We are unaware of what we don’t see. The only person who ever had perfect vision was Jesus. That is why He said, “I am the light of the world; he who follows Me will not walk in the darkness … if anyone walks in the night he stumbles because the light is not in him.” (John 8:12; 11:10)
When the prophet Elisha and his servant were surrounded by an enemy army at Dothan, the servant was gripped with fear. But Elisha told him, “Do not fear. Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.” When God opened the servant’s eyes, he saw that “the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha.” (2 Kings 6) When we are gripped with fear and despair we need God to open our eyes so we can see clearly. “If God be for us,” Paul said, “who can be against us?” (Ro. 8:31)
Jesus once met a blind man in the village of Bethsaida. Jesus laid his hands upon him and asked him, “Do you see anything?” The man responded, “I see people; they look like trees walking around. Once more,” the Bible says, “Jesus put his hands on the man’s eyes. Then his eyes were opened … and he saw everything clearly.” (Mark 8:22-25). Many of us are like that blind man. We may be religious. We may attend church. But we need a “second touch” from God so that we can see clearly.
We are born with spiritual near sightedness so that we only see things close up, our own self interests. As a result we are often filled with fear, doubt, anger, resentment and despair. When we turn from our sins and place our faith in Christ, He is able to touch us so that we see clearly and walk in the light. Only Christ can cure the spiritual myopia that afflicts us from birth and enable us to see the world as God sees it.
Monday, May 3, 2010
Fragile Planet 5-3-2010
The first sheen of oil from the BP oil spill reached the wetlands of Louisiana on Saturday, May 1. Many predict it will soon coat the Louisiana coast replacing the scent of surf with the stench of crude. Sunday, May 2, President Obama curtailed all commercial and recreational fishing between New Orleans and Pensacola. Millions of fish and birds could die. Driven by the shifting winds and prevailing currents, the oil slick threatens to stretch to the coasts of Florida and enter the Atlantic. The potential devastation is unimaginable.
My first reaction was grief like I would have felt had someone spilled an oily stain on my daughter’s wedding dress. But the analogy falls far short. This catastrophe is far more serious and devastating. The repercussions could last for decades. We are reminded that we live on a fragile planet.
I grew up in Corsicana, Texas where the first oil was discovered west of the Mississippi in 1894. The city fathers hired a company out of Kansas to drill for water. Instead, they struck oil. The city was incensed. Oil was worthless and messy, far less valuable than water. The internal combustion engine was in early development and automobiles were virtually unknown. The twentieth century changed all that.
My perception of earth changed dramatically on Christmas Eve, 1968. That was the day Apollo 8 reached the moon as the first manned mission. We watched as the space capsule sent back a moon’s eye view of the earth, a brilliant blue-green ball of life set against the background of space like a priceless jewel delicately placed on black velvet. Just before the lunar expedition lost radio contact and disappeared behind the moon, astronauts, Frank Borman, James Lovell and William Anders, took turns reading from Genesis 1:1-11. “In the beginning God made the heavens and the earth …”
The Scripture writers somehow sensed thousands of years ago that the earth was fragile. Without the tools we have for understanding the cosmic universe with its vast dimensions, they nonetheless knew that this place was special and that its beauty could be spoiled. David wrote, “You founded the earth, and the heavens are the work of Your hands. Even they will perish, but You endure; and all of them will wear out like a garment.” (Psalm 101:25-26). Isaiah wrote, “And all the host of heaven will wear away, and the sky will be rolled up like a scroll; all their hosts will also wither away as a leaf withers from the vine.” (Isaiah 34:4).
We now know, after centuries of scientific exploration and development, that our planet is indeed unique: a tiny speck in the galaxy unlike any other, teeming with life. While physicists like Stephen Hawking remain convinced by sheer logic that other intelligent life must exist somewhere in the vast cosmic universe, there is, so far, no evidence.
Our best source of knowledge for our uniqueness remains the source to which the astronauts turned as they disappeared behind the moon. We are reflections of the living God who gives us life and entrusts to us the care of His creation. His first instruction was “Be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth.” (Ge. 1:27-28). We have done pretty well on the multiplication part. How well we will do in the “replenishing” remains to be seen.
My first reaction was grief like I would have felt had someone spilled an oily stain on my daughter’s wedding dress. But the analogy falls far short. This catastrophe is far more serious and devastating. The repercussions could last for decades. We are reminded that we live on a fragile planet.
I grew up in Corsicana, Texas where the first oil was discovered west of the Mississippi in 1894. The city fathers hired a company out of Kansas to drill for water. Instead, they struck oil. The city was incensed. Oil was worthless and messy, far less valuable than water. The internal combustion engine was in early development and automobiles were virtually unknown. The twentieth century changed all that.
My perception of earth changed dramatically on Christmas Eve, 1968. That was the day Apollo 8 reached the moon as the first manned mission. We watched as the space capsule sent back a moon’s eye view of the earth, a brilliant blue-green ball of life set against the background of space like a priceless jewel delicately placed on black velvet. Just before the lunar expedition lost radio contact and disappeared behind the moon, astronauts, Frank Borman, James Lovell and William Anders, took turns reading from Genesis 1:1-11. “In the beginning God made the heavens and the earth …”
The Scripture writers somehow sensed thousands of years ago that the earth was fragile. Without the tools we have for understanding the cosmic universe with its vast dimensions, they nonetheless knew that this place was special and that its beauty could be spoiled. David wrote, “You founded the earth, and the heavens are the work of Your hands. Even they will perish, but You endure; and all of them will wear out like a garment.” (Psalm 101:25-26). Isaiah wrote, “And all the host of heaven will wear away, and the sky will be rolled up like a scroll; all their hosts will also wither away as a leaf withers from the vine.” (Isaiah 34:4).
We now know, after centuries of scientific exploration and development, that our planet is indeed unique: a tiny speck in the galaxy unlike any other, teeming with life. While physicists like Stephen Hawking remain convinced by sheer logic that other intelligent life must exist somewhere in the vast cosmic universe, there is, so far, no evidence.
Our best source of knowledge for our uniqueness remains the source to which the astronauts turned as they disappeared behind the moon. We are reflections of the living God who gives us life and entrusts to us the care of His creation. His first instruction was “Be fruitful and multiply and replenish the earth.” (Ge. 1:27-28). We have done pretty well on the multiplication part. How well we will do in the “replenishing” remains to be seen.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Waiting 4-26-2010
When I married Jackie we repeated the customary wedding vows promising to cherish one another “in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth.” Perhaps we should have added an additional line. Something like. “I promise to wait for you.” Since we married we have waited for each other. We have waited at airports, train stations and bus stops. We have waited outside of public restrooms too many times to count. I have waited on her to put on last minute make-up and she has waited on me to put down my book or close my computer. When she gave birth to our children, I waited. When I had a motorcycle accident, she waited. In too many ways to enumerate or remember, we have waited on each other. If we added it all up it would be a huge chunk of our lives. And now, it makes me happy. She is worth waiting for.
When we had children, we waited. We waited for their birth. We waited for them when they got out of school. We waited late at night in dark parking lots for their buses to return. We waited for them in the car, the motor running, the clock ticking, knowing we were late to church. We stayed up waiting for them to come home from their first dates. And we waited for them to come home from college.
Waiting is a part of life. We choose to wait for those we love.
That is why God waits for us, because He loves us. Isaiah says, “Therefore the Lord longs to be gracious to you, and therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you for the Lord is a God of justice; How blessed are all those who long for Him. (Isa 34:18). In Jeremiah, God says, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.” (Jer. 1:5). God has waited an eternity for you.
We often miss God because we haven’t learned to wait on Him. We blast through busy schedules making quick decisions without taking time to connect with God’s better plan for us. The Psalmist said, “My soul waits in silence for God only. From Him is my salvation.” (Ps. 62:1) “I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined to me and heard my cry.” (Ps. 40:1) The prophet Micah said, “But as for me, I will watch expectantly for the Lord. I will wait for the God of my salvation.” (Micah 7:7)
Waiting on God involves prayer and finding time to be quiet before Him. Sometimes it includes fasting. But waiting isn’t always about sitting still with our arms folded. The Apostle Paul waited on God by remaining in motion. Acts describes his efforts to discover God’s plan for the next chapter of his life. While he was moving through the regions of Phrygia and Galatia, the Holy Spirit forbade him from entering Asia. He then sought to go into Bythinia, but the Spirit of Jesus said no. Only after his visit to Troas did God make it clear to him he was to head west toward Macedonia. (Acts 16:6-10).
Jesus said, “Seek and you shall find. Knock and it shall be opened.” The secret is to remain open to God’s direction and to listen to His voice while we remain in motion constantly seeking and knocking. When we “wait upon the Lord” in this way, He will direct our paths.
When we had children, we waited. We waited for their birth. We waited for them when they got out of school. We waited late at night in dark parking lots for their buses to return. We waited for them in the car, the motor running, the clock ticking, knowing we were late to church. We stayed up waiting for them to come home from their first dates. And we waited for them to come home from college.
Waiting is a part of life. We choose to wait for those we love.
That is why God waits for us, because He loves us. Isaiah says, “Therefore the Lord longs to be gracious to you, and therefore He waits on high to have compassion on you for the Lord is a God of justice; How blessed are all those who long for Him. (Isa 34:18). In Jeremiah, God says, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.” (Jer. 1:5). God has waited an eternity for you.
We often miss God because we haven’t learned to wait on Him. We blast through busy schedules making quick decisions without taking time to connect with God’s better plan for us. The Psalmist said, “My soul waits in silence for God only. From Him is my salvation.” (Ps. 62:1) “I waited patiently for the Lord; and He inclined to me and heard my cry.” (Ps. 40:1) The prophet Micah said, “But as for me, I will watch expectantly for the Lord. I will wait for the God of my salvation.” (Micah 7:7)
Waiting on God involves prayer and finding time to be quiet before Him. Sometimes it includes fasting. But waiting isn’t always about sitting still with our arms folded. The Apostle Paul waited on God by remaining in motion. Acts describes his efforts to discover God’s plan for the next chapter of his life. While he was moving through the regions of Phrygia and Galatia, the Holy Spirit forbade him from entering Asia. He then sought to go into Bythinia, but the Spirit of Jesus said no. Only after his visit to Troas did God make it clear to him he was to head west toward Macedonia. (Acts 16:6-10).
Jesus said, “Seek and you shall find. Knock and it shall be opened.” The secret is to remain open to God’s direction and to listen to His voice while we remain in motion constantly seeking and knocking. When we “wait upon the Lord” in this way, He will direct our paths.
Monday, April 19, 2010
Acts of Kindness 4-19 2010
Most of us are inspired by great acts of heroism. Sully Sullenberger, the captain who skillfully landed US Airways flight 1549 on the Hudson River on January 15, 2009, has become a household name. After striking a flock of geese that disabled the engines, Sullenberger flew the plane like a giant glider and landed safely on the Hudson River saving the lives of 155 people on board. For thirty years Sullenberger flew airplanes in an uneventful career. This one act made him a national hero.
A couple weeks ago New York City was captivated by the heroic act of a French tourist who plunged into the river to save a two-year-old child. When Julien Duret saw Bridget Sheridan slip through the guard rail and fall into the East River, he did not hesitate. He immediately jumped into the river to save her. Later, amid all the commotion, he took a taxi and disappeared without waiting to be thanked.
Few of us will be given such significant opportunities to perform heroic feats that make the news. And even if the heroic opportunity were given to us, we might miss it.
Celebrated heroic actions make a difference. They burst upon us like a torrential downpour that sweeps us off our feet. But it is the little known acts of kindness that often make the greatest difference. They are like the raindrops that pool into fresh water lakes and nourish the earth.
Jesus recognized the importance of heroic and sacrificial actions. He said, “Greater love hath no man than to lay down his life for his friend.” Of course, this is what he did when He went to the cross and laid his life down for us. But he also taught the importance of little acts of kindness. In fact, it might very well be that the little acts of kindness we choose to do every day have a far greater impact in transforming the world than a few famous acts of heroism.
All of us have opportunity every day to perform little acts of kindness. We all have opportunity to let someone else in line before us, to hold a door open for a stranger, to speak a kind and encouraging word to the cashier who wearily scans countless items at the checkout counter. We can all be kind to a waitress who works for a minimum wage to support her child, or a student working nights to pay for college. The little acts of kindness change a culture.
A friend recently recounted his visit to Arby’s. Completing a cell phone call, he watched from his car as a large woman frantically searched the back seat of her car. He asked if there was a problem. She told him she had a roll of quarters she was going to use to buy lunch, but she could not find them. He pulled out a $10 bill and asked, “Will this help?” She refused. He insisted. Inside he stood behind the rattled woman as she thanked him profusely. She said, “God sent you, you know.” When the cashier delivered his order she said, “The manager was watching and he went ahead and gave you a free sandwich.”
Little acts of kindness add up. All put together, they can change the world.
A couple weeks ago New York City was captivated by the heroic act of a French tourist who plunged into the river to save a two-year-old child. When Julien Duret saw Bridget Sheridan slip through the guard rail and fall into the East River, he did not hesitate. He immediately jumped into the river to save her. Later, amid all the commotion, he took a taxi and disappeared without waiting to be thanked.
Few of us will be given such significant opportunities to perform heroic feats that make the news. And even if the heroic opportunity were given to us, we might miss it.
Celebrated heroic actions make a difference. They burst upon us like a torrential downpour that sweeps us off our feet. But it is the little known acts of kindness that often make the greatest difference. They are like the raindrops that pool into fresh water lakes and nourish the earth.
Jesus recognized the importance of heroic and sacrificial actions. He said, “Greater love hath no man than to lay down his life for his friend.” Of course, this is what he did when He went to the cross and laid his life down for us. But he also taught the importance of little acts of kindness. In fact, it might very well be that the little acts of kindness we choose to do every day have a far greater impact in transforming the world than a few famous acts of heroism.
All of us have opportunity every day to perform little acts of kindness. We all have opportunity to let someone else in line before us, to hold a door open for a stranger, to speak a kind and encouraging word to the cashier who wearily scans countless items at the checkout counter. We can all be kind to a waitress who works for a minimum wage to support her child, or a student working nights to pay for college. The little acts of kindness change a culture.
A friend recently recounted his visit to Arby’s. Completing a cell phone call, he watched from his car as a large woman frantically searched the back seat of her car. He asked if there was a problem. She told him she had a roll of quarters she was going to use to buy lunch, but she could not find them. He pulled out a $10 bill and asked, “Will this help?” She refused. He insisted. Inside he stood behind the rattled woman as she thanked him profusely. She said, “God sent you, you know.” When the cashier delivered his order she said, “The manager was watching and he went ahead and gave you a free sandwich.”
Little acts of kindness add up. All put together, they can change the world.
Monday, April 12, 2010
The Master's 4-12-2010
Sports are never just about the performance on the field or the final score at the end of the day. It is always about the story behind the competition. That was true this past week, once again, at the Masters golf tournament in Augusta, Georgia.
The Masters has become a highlight of the year for me. Like millions of other golfing duffers, I look forward to this unique week in sports. The spectacular fairways lined with brilliant azaleas and dogwoods mirrored on the surface of glassy pools mark the beginning of spring. It has become the setting where some of the great stories of sacrifice, hope and devotion have unfolded.
Bobby Jones, the original designer of the Masters, somehow left a legacy that has made this tournament different. An amateur golfer who won all the major championships, Jones never accepted a check for his victories.
I have watched the Masters legacy unfold across the years: Jack Nicklaus making a surge on the back nine to become the oldest winner of the tournament at age 47 with his son as his caddie; Ben Crenshaw doubled over in tears on the eighteenth green after winning the tournament one week after he buried his life-long coach and friend, Harvey Pinick.
This week, the tournament ended with Phil Mickelson tearfully embracing his wife, Amy and claiming his third green jacket. For more than a year Amy has been battling breast cancer. Phil has limited his appearances in order to be by her side, and, as a result his golf scores had suffered. But this week was different.
Perhaps Phil learned something from Payne Stewart in 1999. Standing on the green at the final hole of the US Open and playing with Stewart, Phil had a chance to win his first major tournament on Father’s Day. Amy was at home expecting their first child at any moment. Phil fell one stroke short when Stewart sunk his par putt. Payne Stewart had wasted much of his early career partying and carousing, but he had given his life to Christ and discovered the values that truly count. Stewart walked over to Phil, took his face in his hands, locked eyes with him and beamed as he said, “Phil, you’re going to be a father!” The next day, Phil’s daughter, Amanda, was born. Four months later Payne Stewart was killed in a plane crash. His funeral at First Baptist Orlando inspired the golfing world and his wife Tracy wrote a biography of her husband’s golfing journey to faith. Phil Mickelson wrote One Magical Sunday (But Winning Isn’t Everything).
Most of us will never attend a Masters golf tournament. The tickets are carefully guarded and difficult to obtain. Fewer still will ever compete in the event and only a handful will be able to claim victory. But all of us have the opportunity to win at what really counts: the relationships that make life meaningful. Jesus taught that all of life is summed up in relationships: to love our enemies, to lay our lives down for our friends, to love our wives as Christ loved the church, to care for our children and to love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength.
The real question for all of us is not whether we ever make it to the Masters as an observer, a player or a winner. The real question is whether we belong to the Master.
The Masters has become a highlight of the year for me. Like millions of other golfing duffers, I look forward to this unique week in sports. The spectacular fairways lined with brilliant azaleas and dogwoods mirrored on the surface of glassy pools mark the beginning of spring. It has become the setting where some of the great stories of sacrifice, hope and devotion have unfolded.
Bobby Jones, the original designer of the Masters, somehow left a legacy that has made this tournament different. An amateur golfer who won all the major championships, Jones never accepted a check for his victories.
I have watched the Masters legacy unfold across the years: Jack Nicklaus making a surge on the back nine to become the oldest winner of the tournament at age 47 with his son as his caddie; Ben Crenshaw doubled over in tears on the eighteenth green after winning the tournament one week after he buried his life-long coach and friend, Harvey Pinick.
This week, the tournament ended with Phil Mickelson tearfully embracing his wife, Amy and claiming his third green jacket. For more than a year Amy has been battling breast cancer. Phil has limited his appearances in order to be by her side, and, as a result his golf scores had suffered. But this week was different.
Perhaps Phil learned something from Payne Stewart in 1999. Standing on the green at the final hole of the US Open and playing with Stewart, Phil had a chance to win his first major tournament on Father’s Day. Amy was at home expecting their first child at any moment. Phil fell one stroke short when Stewart sunk his par putt. Payne Stewart had wasted much of his early career partying and carousing, but he had given his life to Christ and discovered the values that truly count. Stewart walked over to Phil, took his face in his hands, locked eyes with him and beamed as he said, “Phil, you’re going to be a father!” The next day, Phil’s daughter, Amanda, was born. Four months later Payne Stewart was killed in a plane crash. His funeral at First Baptist Orlando inspired the golfing world and his wife Tracy wrote a biography of her husband’s golfing journey to faith. Phil Mickelson wrote One Magical Sunday (But Winning Isn’t Everything).
Most of us will never attend a Masters golf tournament. The tickets are carefully guarded and difficult to obtain. Fewer still will ever compete in the event and only a handful will be able to claim victory. But all of us have the opportunity to win at what really counts: the relationships that make life meaningful. Jesus taught that all of life is summed up in relationships: to love our enemies, to lay our lives down for our friends, to love our wives as Christ loved the church, to care for our children and to love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength.
The real question for all of us is not whether we ever make it to the Masters as an observer, a player or a winner. The real question is whether we belong to the Master.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Listen 4-5-2010
I am not a great listener. I lose focus. One word can trigger any number of divergent thoughts. My mind will race off in pursuit of those thoughts suddenly deaf to the words being spoken. At other times I leap ahead, thinking about what I want to say rather than listening. I have to discipline myself to re-focus on what is being said, sometimes scrambling to piece together the gaps that I missed during my mental lapses. My wife knows this. She can see it in my eyes. Sometimes she will stop talking and the silence will awaken me from my temporary daydream. “You’re not listening,” she says. Of course she is right. But occasionally I am lucky enough to be able to repeat the last sentence that she spoke, retrieving it from some kind of digital recording in my head, even though it’s meaning was not being registered in my brain.
My wife, on the other hand, is a great listener. That is one of the reasons I married her. She listens intently, not just to me, but to anyone speaking to her. I once watched a total stranger stop her on the street in New York and spill out their life story. I have witnessed the same thing on subways, in train stations, at Walmart and, of course, at church. You can see it in her eyes. She focuses. She doesn’t glance around the room wondering if there is someone else she should speak to. She doesn’t look beyond you. Her eyes don’t glaze over in a fixed stare that pretends to listen while she thinks about something else. This is the reason she is so successful in what she does. She works with high school students in crisis. She has students of every race and religion, and she makes a difference.
Listening is a powerful gift. It is transformational. When someone listens to us without judgment or accusation we hear and see ourselves differently. Somehow the act of having someone truly listen enables us to sort through our emotions and confusions to reach better conclusions. Feelings of isolation and loneliness dissolve and melt away when someone listens to us. The listener, by listening, has the ability to heal.
Most of us are far more intent on being heard than hearing. When we pretend to listen, we are, more often simply waiting for a gap, a chance in the conversation to insert our already preconceived conclusions. We interrupt one another with conversations that often are running on different tracks.
The Bible says, “Everyone must be quick to hear and slow to speak.” (James 1:19).
How many times have we injured someone, or simply failed to help someone, because we were too quick to speak? How different our world would be if parents listened to their children; if bosses listened to their employees; if businesses listened to their customers; if politicians listened to the people; if persons in power listened to each other? Maybe if we were better at listening to one another, we might be better at listening to God.
My wife, on the other hand, is a great listener. That is one of the reasons I married her. She listens intently, not just to me, but to anyone speaking to her. I once watched a total stranger stop her on the street in New York and spill out their life story. I have witnessed the same thing on subways, in train stations, at Walmart and, of course, at church. You can see it in her eyes. She focuses. She doesn’t glance around the room wondering if there is someone else she should speak to. She doesn’t look beyond you. Her eyes don’t glaze over in a fixed stare that pretends to listen while she thinks about something else. This is the reason she is so successful in what she does. She works with high school students in crisis. She has students of every race and religion, and she makes a difference.
Listening is a powerful gift. It is transformational. When someone listens to us without judgment or accusation we hear and see ourselves differently. Somehow the act of having someone truly listen enables us to sort through our emotions and confusions to reach better conclusions. Feelings of isolation and loneliness dissolve and melt away when someone listens to us. The listener, by listening, has the ability to heal.
Most of us are far more intent on being heard than hearing. When we pretend to listen, we are, more often simply waiting for a gap, a chance in the conversation to insert our already preconceived conclusions. We interrupt one another with conversations that often are running on different tracks.
The Bible says, “Everyone must be quick to hear and slow to speak.” (James 1:19).
How many times have we injured someone, or simply failed to help someone, because we were too quick to speak? How different our world would be if parents listened to their children; if bosses listened to their employees; if businesses listened to their customers; if politicians listened to the people; if persons in power listened to each other? Maybe if we were better at listening to one another, we might be better at listening to God.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
