The video below is priceless. It is an impromptu performance at the Mayo Clinic of Marlow and Fran Cowan. The husband is in his early 90s, and Fran is in her mid-80s. According to the title of the video, they had been married 62 years when this video was recorded. This isn’t a new video. It was posted in April 2009, and it has had over 7 million hits. But its new to me, and it made me smile. I thought I’d share:
There are a couple of more links you can follow for more of the Cowans.
There is so much to learn from this 2 minute song. It speaks so much about faith, healing, music, longevity, love, marriage, and joy. I can only imagine how many times these two people have played that song together over 62 years.
I think my favorite part of the video is when they start switching places. She stumbles once and has to sit on the bench, and he stops playing to make sure she is okay. Then they get right back into the song, barely missing a beat. Then they switch again, and he sneaks a pat on her bottom while she feigns surprise and indignation.
I could go on and on about this video, but this is one perfect case when the music tells more than my words could. Plus, if you follow the link to their encore performance, you will see Mr. Cowan address the audience. He sums it all up perfectly, “Keep a song in your heart. Keep singing. And God bless you all.”
The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don’t have any. (Alice Walker)
The trailer below begins with this quote. It reminds me of an anecdote I heard in seminary. I don’t remember the exact details, so I cannot properly attribute the story. My professor said (something like), “C.S. Lewis once said that, ‘Man’s greatest sin is pride.’ In other words, it is believing that being ‘made in the image of God’ is equal to that of being God. This might be true, but another theologian said, ‘The greatest sin of man might be pride. But the greatest sin of woman is lack of pride.'”
The video is about eight and a half minutes long. It is worth watching. Make no mistake, this is not a girls issue. It is not a liberal issue. It is a human issue. The objectification of women is damaging to both boys and girls. Treating anyone as less than a precious child of God does harm. It is the act of ignoring what is fundamentally true of all people: That we are ALL created in God’s image.
So God created humankind in his image,
in the image of God he created them;
male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:27, NRSV)
This is an issue that I’ve written about before in my blog Princess Paradox. As a father of two daughters, I obviously have a lot of interest in how the media will affect their lives as they grow up. As power as the media is, it is not more powerful than a loving relationship. The movie is a warning. It can help provide a sense of urgency, and a better understanding of what we’re up against. Itcannot be an excuse. It is my duty as a father to make sure that my daughters know that they are smart, strong, courageous people that were created in the image of God.
I hope you take the time to watch this and go to the Miss Representation website to learn more.
You probably don’t recognize the name Derek Redmond. You might recognize his story though. He was a sprinter in 1992 Barcolona Olympics. He was the British record holder and a contender to do well in the 400m. He had an injury-plagued career, but as he prepared for the most important 45 seconds of his life, the announcer claimed that he was in the “best form he’d shown.” About 15 seconds into the race, he tore his hamstring. He crumpled to the ground in pain. If that was the end of his race, no one would remember Derek Redmond, but as a trainer started to attend to him, Redmond got up and started limping around the track. He was determined to finish what he had begun. He was determined to finish the lap.
As he limped around the track, fans started to cheer. Several attendants approached him, but he waved them off. He was alone on the track. A wide shot of him in the video below reveals a strange scene – one man hobbling and barely able to stand, not the usual group of amazing athletes speeding along the curve. As he comes around the turn, the crowd is cheering him on. They understand what he is trying to do. They admire him for it. But then something else happens. Something extraordinary. Something that until recently, I don’ t think I really understood. Watch below.
A man comes out on the track. We don’t see what he had to do to get on the track. We do see him push past one person that tries to stop him. He puts his arm around the wounded athlete, and the recognition on Derek Redmond’s face helps us understand. This is his father.
This is his father who he drapes his arm around. Suddenly, the emotions of the moment catch up to the pain and Derek Redmond buries his face in his father’s chest. His father is now literally holding him up as another attendant comes. This time the guy is more adamant, but there is nothing that is going to take the boy from his father. You can almost read his lips, as he waves the man away, “Get the hell out of here!” is what I think he says.
The two finish the race together while the stadium rose to its feet in appreciation for what they had witnessed. Afterward, the father says, “Whatever happened, he had to finish. And I was there to help him finish. I intended to go over the line with him. We started his career together. I think we should finish it together.”
Derek Redmond is now a motivational speaker. On his website, he gives an interview where he describes his father as “My motivator, my hero, my pal, my bodyguard, my physio and my masseur some days.” I have seen this video of him and his Dad before, but the other day I watched again – perhaps for the first time as a father myself. I started thinking about Derek Redmond’s Dad.
My girls are too young to participate in competitive sports, but I’ve already began to dream about what their future holds. I think about their lives as dancers, athletes, students, friends. I think about the relationships they’ll make, the people they’ll know, the places they’ll go, and the accomplishments that await them. Is the Olympics in their future? Who knows?
As a father I can dream with them. I can dream for them. I can imagine myself watching my daughter in the biggest moment of her life. I can already be nervous, waiting for her chance to shine. I do not know what her dreams will be, but I can imagine being at the cusp of them, ready to emerge victorious.
What would it be like to be watching your son or your daughter run in the most important 45 seconds of their life, and then come up injured. How much would it hurt to see her body lying on the ground, broken; her race over; her career over; her dream over? How much would it hurt to think of the hours of practice, the trips to the gym, the diets, the training, the injuries, the coaching, the sacrifices that had all come to this point, and end with her crumpled on the ground waiting for the stretcher to carry her off the track so they could keep the schedule of the rest of the event?
Then, what would it feel like to see her get up? I remember the first time she fell off of her bike, and I remember with pride the moment she got back on her bike and kept going.
As I watch this video of Derek Redmond hobbling around the track I can see my daughters, struggling to finish something that they set out to achieve. When I dream their future, I don’t dream of them victorious. I dream of them courageous. I don’t dream of them with accolades and fame and money. I dream of them with conviction and perseverance and strength.
And when I see Derek Redmond collapse into the loving arms of his father, I dream that someday I will be able to be there for my daughters. I hope beyond hope that when they face a obstacle in their life that feels bigger than they can handle, that I will be able to be there for them. I hope this in part because I know what it feels like to collapse into the loving arms of my Dad.
The fact remains, I might not always be there for them. So I live every day teaching, praying, reading, dancing, laughing, and crying with them so that they know, and that they will always know that their Daddy loves them. More importantly, I do these things so that they know, and that they will ALWAYS know that our Father, Son, and Holy Spirit loves them. Amen.
When facebook changed its layout the other day, it caused quite a stir. All over my news feed people were crying foul, posting pictures like this one. It all seemed a little over the top to me. I responded by posting a picture that read “I am appalled that the free service that I am in no way obligated to use keeps making changes that mildly inconveniences me.” I’ve been on Facebook since 2008. It has added much to my life. It makes it easier to share pictures of my kids with family. I have reconnected with cherished friends that I would have thought were lost until the next reunion.
It has given me a platform to voice political opinions, informative articles, and to seek out readers for this blog. I have gotten infuriated over other’s rants, and have probably caused others to wonder, “what is that guy’s problem?” I have 468 facebook friends, whom I can now group into distinct lists. Some of the 468 I barely even remember meeting the first time. Some I never really wanted to reconnect with – they just sort of “appeared.” All the while I have scoffed at those that mocked facebook.
All of the complaints against the big blue F seemed silly and uninformed. I had my security settings mastered. I could spot a virus video link a mile away. I changed my password frequently to avoid spammers. Now however, I am starting to have doubts.
Insecurity is starting to creep in. I think it started for me when I watched the movie “Social Network.” No longer was Facebook some anonymous website with a clean logo. It suddenly had a face – with insecurities, faults, and frailties. Are you telling me that Facebook was created because some nerd wanted to impress a girl? This did not bode well. But then I realized that almost everything awesome ever created by a man was probably done to impress a girl.
Yet my fortress of certitude that I had built around facebook started to crumble. When I read about how difficult it is to delete a facebook account, I started to get worried. My fall-back argument to every facebook criticism was always “I could always delete it.” Now I am not so sure. Yes, you can delete your account, but is it ever really deleted? Recently a friend of mine announced he was getting off of facebook. He asked if there was a way to backup what you have stored on FB. It turns out that there is a program to backup everything that you have ever put on FB. Every picture, every comment, every note, every link. EVERYTHING. Which begs the question. If I can back it all up, then where is it all stored?
Yet it is hard to say they are invading our privacy when everything that we put on facebook is completely voluntary. I know that there is no such thing as privacy on the internet. It is an illusion. I operate understanding that everything I put on faceboook is permanent. This unfortunately, is not an assumption I had for the first couple of years on facebook, but live and learn, right? Then a couple of weeks ago I saw my own cell phone number on my facebook profile. I am positive that I never entered that. How did that happen?
So now I am looking at the new facebook. And I am seeing everything that everyone of my friends does, and I’m starting to think – “Do I need to know that?” Or more importantly, “Do I want all of my friends knowing everything I do on facebook?”
So now this is popping up on people’s statusses.
Please do me a favor and move your mouse over my name here, wait for the box to load and then move your mouse over the “Subscribe” link. Then uncheck the “Comments and Likes”.
I would really rather that my comments on friends and families posts not be made public, Thank You! Then re-post this if you don’t want your every single move posted on the right side in the “Ticker Box” for everyone to see!
I’m posting this not only for myself, but also so that my friends and family will know to ask others to do the same if they would not like their every move on facebook!
Then I read somewhere that this really doesn’t do any good. It is all so confusing. And that is my point. I don’t think any of us really know what is going on.
It seems like things are moving incredibly fast. Laws haven’t caught up. Social mores are being created as we speak. What’s too much on FB? What does it mean to be in community while sitting at a computer? I guess what I’m trying to say is that I no longer see Facebook as a benevolent entity helping people get connected. It is what it is – a multibillion dollar business designed to streamline advertising and gather consumer information. Am I okay with that? If I know that I’m being exploited, is it really exploitation? The problem is I just don’t know.
In five years, what are we going to say about 2011? Are we going to laugh at those that had worries about Facebook the way we now chuckle at those that refuse to buy things on amazon? Am I going to regret photo-documenting my family’s life? Is something I said, did, or posted going to cost me? hurt my family? get me in trouble?
I don’t know. I don’t think any of us do.
I’m not deleting my facebook account. For better or worse, it has become a part of my life. I can’t in good conscious encourage others to join though. But if you are on facebook, do me a favor and “Like” the Fat Pastor. I have 65 fans, and I’d really like to get over 100.
Photo taken by my good friend Rev. Scott Elliott. This is part of a mural in a Sunday school room. The original art is by Steve Selpal and the gifted artists who painted it were Steve, Anita Knapp Kidney, Lizzy Knapp and Emily Knapp.
I’m wondering. Did our world change, or just our perspective of it? In many ways, the answer is obvious, and it runs deeper than longer lines at the airport and more flags flying from front porches. Two wars have been fought. Thousands have died. The lives of the families of those that were lost were changed in ways I cannot even fathom. Billions have been spent. Countless tears have been shed. There are many ways the world has changed. We live in a more fearful era. There is less trust. There is more resentment.
Yet at the same time I can’t help but wonder if the world really changed, or just the way we see it. There was terror on September 10, 2001. There were people that hated America. There were people that feared Muslims. There was injustice. Innocents died. People mourned. We have a tendency to look back at our country before 9-11 and glamorize it. Listening to the accounts of the day makes me wonder if people think that economic turmoil, political upheaval, and fearful lashing out with violence are new to the world.
We live in a September 12 world, and we are keenly aware of this world’s problems, but they were not invented on that terrible day. We continue to struggle with the events of September 11 and wonder when we may get past it. We wonder how long we will live in fear? How long will we live with resentment? How long will we live in suspicion? When will September 13 come? When will healing come? When will peace come? Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord. Lord, hear my voice! (Psalm 130).
As Christians, none of this should come as a surprise. We live most of our lives in a Saturday world. Saturday is the day of waiting. It is after the terror of Friday and before the joy of Sunday. It lies in the midst of fear and speculation. Most of the disciples responded to Jesus’ death as most humans would. They ran. They hid. They locked themselves in a room and wondered, “When are they coming for us? How long will we live in fear? How long will we live with resentment? How long will we live in suspicion?” They might have remembered the promises of Jesus while he walked with them, but all they could see were the lashes on his back and the crown of thorns on his head. All they could hear were his cries of pain. All they could taste were their own tears. All they could touch was the cold and lifeless body of their teacher, their friend, their Messiah.
How long must we live in Saturday? How long must we live in September 12?
I’m not sure I can answer that question. I know this: The disciples didn’t come out of that locked room on their own. It took the resurrected Jesus to break through the barriers that men built. It took the risen Lord to overcome their fear and their doubt. It took the loving arms of the Son of God to set them free and send them into the world to set others free.
In the few days that followed the attacks on 9/11, none of us really had a choice. We were deep in the shock of sadness and fear. I remember being glued to the TV for hours on end with tears dried on my face. I remember coming to grips with the fact that my freedom and safety was in jeopardy. My world changed that day, or was it just my perspective? Did I finally awaken to the reality of the world that had so long been easy to ignore?
Ten years later, we all have a choice. The shock has long worn off, so now we have the ability to choose. With what perspective are we going to look at the world? I have lived through the pain of Good Friday. I have waited through the despair of Saturday, and I have risen with Jesus in glorious resurrection on Sunday. I know there is much to do. I know we are not there yet, but I have been shown the way.
So now, in the midst of our September 12 world, we must choose. In your own September 12 world, which do you choose? Hope or despair? Understanding or ignorance? Mercy or vengeance? Reconciliation or bitterness? Grace or judgment? Justice or oppression?
Pastor: As you go back to college, we pray a special blessing upon you.
All: We have enjoyed your presence with us this summer. Your youth and your faith give us hope for a better future.
Pastor: We call now upon the Holy Spirit to raise you up and keep you strong, safe, and secure.
All: We pray for your safety and for your growth. We thank God for your gifts and for this wonderful time of adventure and excitement in your lives.
Pastor: We seek the Holy Spirit to keep your parents confident and at peace.
All: We pray for your parents and families, for we know there is no greater risk than to allow children to grow. We will do our best to support them with our presence and our prayers.
Pastor: All this we pray in the name of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Savior, Amen.
A childhood friend of mine, and self-professed “geek” and football fan created this picture. She has a funny blog called Geekaroni, which is now the featured site (I’m hoping to make the butter beer cookies soon). This has got to be the greatest collection of playmakers since the ’00 Rams. To read about the full team, go to my blog called Fantasy Draft.
Back row (L-R) LG Donkey Kong, WR The Flash, RG E. Honda, LT Grape Ape, TE Goro. Front Row: WR Wile E. Coyote, FB Kool-Aid Man, WR Sonic, QB Superman, C Violet Parr, RB Walter Payton. Seated: Coach Professor Xavier. Not pictured: RT The Iron Giant, Bench: He-Man and Uncle Rico.
This is the time of year when people across the country are planning their fantasy football draft. Fantasy Football is the place where geekiness and sports intersect, but I’m cranking up the geek factor with this fantasy draft. I’m taking the term “Fantasy Draft” to a new level. Three rules for drafting this fantasy team:
1. All fictional characters (with one exception)
2. No one is allowed to bring weapons/tools/special outfits.
3. Flying is not allowed – even if it is a natural ability of the character.
Quarterback: The number one draft pick has to be Superman, right? I remember in the movie he can really punt the ball. I can only assume he can throw pretty well too. (I also considered Uncle Rico, because he could throw a pigskin a quarter mile).
Running Back: Walter Payton (So this breaks two rules. One, he is not fictional, and two, he can clearly fly. Still, he’s my guy).
Backup Running Back: He-Man
Fullback: Kool-Aid Man. Have you seen the way this guy opens holes? He would be great in the power running game and on goal line. Probably wouldn’t be very good at catching passes.
Wide Receivers: The Flash and Sonic the Hedgehog on the outside. Wile E. Coyote in the slot. The Flash definitely has the speed on the outside to open the field. Not really sure if he has the hands, but he’s worth the risk. Sonic might be a little under-sized, but he can carry a bunch of rings at a time, so he can probably catch. He must have great hands. The Coyote has speed – not road runner speed, but he’s still fast and he clearly has a better chance of catching a football than a road runner. Plus, he can clearly take a pounding, so he’ll have no fear going across the middle. And finally, football fields have no cliffs, so I’m expecting 80 catches from this guy.
Tight End: Goro, the main bad guy from Mortal Kombat. He has a great physique, and is athletic enough to be a martial arts expert. And even though he only has three fingers on each hand, he has four hands, giving him two more fingers than the average tight end.
Offensive Line: Grape Ape at left tackle. We’ll give Grape Ape a simian buddy and put Donkey Kong at left guard. Violet Parr at center (she would be great at pass blocking). I’ll put the 6-2, 304 pound, and extremely athletic E Honda from Streetfighter II at right guard. The Iron Giant at right tackle.
Off. Coordinator: Professor Xavier. He would always be one step ahead of the defense.
Defensive Tackles: The Hulk and The Thing. It is possible that Hulk could get out of control. If he started to get too many penalties, he could be pulled for Optimus Prime.
Defensive Ends: Wolverine and Steve Austin (this one, not this one). Wolverine would have to be careful. Impaling left tackles would be considered a fifteen yard penalty. I would love to hear the Shh-na-na-na-na play as Steve Austin approached a quarterback in the pocket.
Linebackers: Panthro on the strong side. Tygra on the weak side and Lion-O in the middle. That’s right – a Thundercats linebacker corps. They’ve got (dare I say) cat-like quickness, strength, agility, and toughness. Not having the Sword of Omens limits Lion-O, but he’ll be all right. Cheetarah can come in as a Nickelback on passing situations. For years there have been rumors about a Thundercats movie. I hope they are more than rumors.
Strong safety:Sideswipe (the Transformer) has speed, strength and a little bit of cockiness. If he transformed into the sports car, it might be a tell for the safety blitz, but I wouldn’t want to pick him up.
Free Safety: Mr Fantastic. Can you imagine how valuable he would be in pass defense. It would be almost impossible to get over the top of him.
Cornerbacks: Spiderman and Silver Surfer. Spiderman would be an interception machine – even if he couldn’t bring his web shooters. The Surfer is sort second-class in terms of popularity, but apparently he’s kind of a bad-ass.
Defensive Coordinator: Darth Vader. There will be no holes in his defense – not even a small hole the size of a wamprat.
Kicker: Anton Lubchenko, before this happened to him.
So there you have it – the truly great Fantasy Football Team. By the way, if these guys played the ’85 Bears, the score would be Bears 46, Fantasy Team 10. Do you have any substitutions to suggest?
An Illinois country road. Photo by DeWayne Neeley. Click on the picture to go to his Flickr site.
A long time ago I wrote a sermon about a bike ride through the cornfields of central Illinois. It was one of my favorite things to do when I lived in Chenoa. I would turn left out of our driveway and just keep going. It wouldn’t take long before I was on a road that looked a lot like the one pictured.
When the corn was high, riding a bike down a narrow road like this was a slighltly harrowing experience because I couldn’t really see where I was. When you’re in the middle of one of these corn canyons, you can see where the road leads – at least until the next hill – and that’s about it. When the corn is high, you can’t really see anything but corn and sky.
That is partly why I loved those bike rides so much. It was so peaceful and so calm. I spent a lot of time in prayer on those country roads. The reason I said it was harrowing, however, is because I could be riding along with cornfields on boths sides for quite some time. And while country roads were usually straight, they were not always a dependable grid. Some were deadends. Some veered in directions I didn’t really mean to go. Some took me to the highway (and if you ever want a lesson in white-knuckled prayer, ride your bike on a busy country highway – with semi trucks passing you at 60 miles and hour).
It could be really easy to get turned around amidst all the fields and right angles. Yet no matter where I rode, I always knew that I could see the water tower. As long as I could see the water tower, I knew I could get back home. The water tower is the tallest thing poking out of the grove of trees that is Chenoa. Whenever I rode – I knew I could make it home if I could see the water tower. That is why those moments in the corn canyons were a little unsettling.
In life, we can go down a lot of roads. Sometimes were are heading away from home. Sometimes we are meandering around aimlessly. Sometimes we hit dead ends, or go on courses we didn’t intend. Sometimes we get turned around. Sometimes we hold on white-knuckled just praying that things will be okay. That is why it is so important to have that water tower – raising over it all, showing us the way home.
To me, that is church. It is the place to which I can always turn. It is not perfect. The church has made mistakes – some historic, some personal. The church has hurt people, hurt families, hurt nations. Yet as far as I’m concerned, it is our best hope. It is the best hope we have of finding our way. It is the beacon that calls us home.
At its best the church is a place of love. If the church is being what Christ intended it to be, the church is a place of forgiveness, grace, invitation and mission. It is a place to be fed, empowered and sent out. It is the oasis of the Kingdom of God. When I think of the churches I have been a part of, I don’t think of buildings or decor. I don’ t think of great sermons or well-organized Bible study. I don’t think of perfect liturgy or music. I think of love.
I think of people that cared for me as a child. I think of people that loved me as an adult. I think of people that helped guide me into ministry, that picked me up when I failed and allowed me to grow. I think of people that loved me like parents and were grandparents to my daughters. When I think of when the church has hurt me I do not think of wrong theology, or boring sermons, or bad music. When the church has hurt me it has been when people failed to live up to the commandment Christ has given us – love one another as Christ has loved us. Yet before I let the anger, resentment and hurt feelings get the better of me, I remember that I have failed to love as well. I am in need of forgiveness for my carelessness, my thoughtlessness and my selfishness.
Through it all, I have found love in the church. My heart breaks for those that have been wronged by the church. My heart yearns for those that seek and do not find. I don’t know where you are on your journey. I don’t presume to know the path you need to take. All I know is what I have found. I have found a place to hold onto. I have found a water tower in the bike ride of my life – showing me the way to get back home. I pray you find your way home too.
The Starry Night, by Vincent van Gogh from the NYC MoMA
On a beautiful evening in northern Michigan, I was laying on the beach. I was surrounded by most of the people I love in this world. My daughter lay asleep on a towel. My other daughter was wrapped in the loving arms of a family member. The sun had set. The sky had done its marvelous shift from blue to red to purple. The stars were beginning to appear and slowly. Almost imperceptibly, more were making their debut. It is a scene that has been repeated since the dawn of humanity. A group of people, surrounded in love, adoring the awesome specter of a night sky.
I don’t know about the rest of my family, but I knew that I was participating in the oldest form of religious ritual. For as long as humanity has been walking, eyes have turned skyward at night. The seemingly endless chaos of stars in the sky has inspired awe and wonder a thousand generations. My little human mind started to do what little human minds do – I started to label and categorize. I remembered little snippets of my Astronomy 101 class and was able to identify the Big Dipper, the North Star, Cassiopeia. I thought to myself, “I think that might be Mars.” We strained to see satellites, and were envious of those that caught a glimpse of a shooting star. Even though my analytical mind knew that was not a shooting star, but a piece of space debris being burned in our atmosphere, my wondering mind wished I could catch a glimpse of one. I was lost in a sense of wonder and astonishment, and couldn’t help but ask myself that age-old question, “How many stars are there?” I tried in vain to count, but gave up quickly. “I wonder what that bright star is?” I wondered. “Is that a constellation?” I thought to myself.
Then someone, perhaps wondering the same things as me, pulled out their iphone. In an instant they were using it to look at the stars, and it was telling them the names of each constellation, each bright star, each planet, each galaxy and nebula. It was an amazing little app (and it was free). There, on secluded beach in the midst of my naive wonder, technology came in to save the day.
My wonder was gone. And yet, it was really gone before the iphone appeared. I know that there are more stars in the sky than I can count. Google can tell me there are between 2,000 and 6,000 on any given clear night that we can see with no aid. I know that what we can see is but a tiny speck in the greater universe. There are about 100-200 billion stars in our galaxy, and we inhabit an average galaxy. Conservative estimates say there are about 100-200 billion galaxies.
In ancient times people gazed at the stars and thought that they must be hung in the sky from a firm dome that covers the earth. There were a few odd “moving stars,” and they just increased the sense of amazement. Today we know better. We know that stars are out in a seemingly infinite thing called “space.” We know that there are more stars than we could ever name or group into neat little patterns. We know that stars are not tiny pins of light, but instead are giant gaseous nuclear reactions. We know that the stuff from which we are made – elements – are created in the great furnaces of stars, and more are made in the cataclysmic explosions that occur when stars die.
There are thousands of other mysteries that we have explained, riddles that we have unravelled, questions that we have answered. All of our progress and discovery has taken us places that seemed unfathomable only a few generations ago. In the span of 66 years humans went from Kitty Hawk to the moon. As more and more is explained, there seems to be less and less need for God. The myths of our ancestors, used to explain things like sunset and sunrise, seem like silly childhood stories. More and more people ask, “Who needs God?” Besides being the title of a wonderful book by Harold Kushner, this is a question that has been on the minds of modern people for decades.
I cannot answer that question for you. Maybe you don’t need God. I think it is perfectly possible to live a full, rich life without ever believing in God. I also believe, however, that there is something in us that yearns for more. I need God because when I look at the stars at night I see from two distinct perspectives.
When I gaze up into the stars I may, at the same time, participate in two of the most basic human instincts. I desire to name, count, label and categorize. There is a part of my humanity that makes me want to know more. It is a driving curiosity that makes me want to get a star map. I feel comfort in being able to order the seemingly chaotic universe. I feel comfort in knowing that there is not pure mystery. Discovery and advancement is a holy work. Science, knowledge, technology have given us many wonderful gifts. I am in awe of the capability of the human mind to create and of the human will to advance. Yet there is something in me that is equally human that knows that there is more up in the stars than a vast collection of hydrogen gasses and nuclear reactions.
I stop and wonder at the sheer magnitude of it all. I wonder about my own place in this vast and seemingly chaotic universe. I am drawn into a deep conviction that there is more to all of this than one life. There is more to this world than even our collective lives. While at the same time feeling dwarfed by it all, I am strengthened in knowing that I have a place in it. There is something for me here to do. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but I know that it has a lot to do with loving one another. I lay down on a beach surrounded by people I love and know that there is something powerful and real that is surrounding us. I may not be able to name it. I may never understand it, but I know it is real.
And for me, this is the beauty of being human. You can call it the analytic and artistic – the objective and subjective – the intellect and the emotion – the yin and the yang. I call it the sublime paradox of being human. It is the mystery of faith – the drive to advance, to know, and to understand, held in juxtaposition with the humility of surrender, knowing that there are some places our intellect will not be able to bring us. Ultimately it is there – the place where humanity’s drive to be more, and our humility to seek God, that is our greatest hope. It is there – between the extremes of religious fundamentalist tyranny and amoral scientific advancement – that the Kingdom of God is realized.
5K 36:00 (Race for the Cure, Jun. '12)
35:15 (Firecracker Run, Jul. '12)
33:47 (Crimestoppers, Aug. '12)
31:40 (Lagomarcino's, Oct. '12)
26:52 (CASI St. Patrick's Day, Mar. '13)
26:28 (Railroad Days, Jun. '13)* *2nd place in age division
26:40 (Casa Guanajuato, Nov. '13)
30:30 (Modern Woodmen Knockout Hunger, Sep '14)** **3rd place in age division
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