Finding and forgetting (Revised)

Lost in thoughts about the argument he had with his wife over breakfast and the disturbing call from the bank, he entered the elevator unaware of the woman cowering in the corner. Looking over as the doors closed, he asked if she was alright. No, she said, she wasn’t. Ever since her husband died, she’d been deathly afraid of riding in elevators. The man went and sat on the floor beside her until they reached her floor. Once she was gone, he realized he hadn’t thought of himself or his worries at any point while sitting beside the woman.

Of all the ways we get lost, getting lost in our thoughts and worries is the most frightening. Far from losing our way in the woods or taking the wrong road, getting lost in one’s thoughts and feelings is darker and more bewildering.

When I get lost, I often try to figure things out on my own, but I always become entangled in my own thinking, wrapped up in my feelings. The solution is never found within. Only when I’ve gone beyond myself and focused on someone else has the darkness and confusion been lifted. Like the man in the elevator, when I’ve sat beside another and focused on what was going on with them have I forgotten my thoughts and worries.

When I was hungry, you fed me .  . . when I was naked, you clothed me . . . and when I was in prison you visited me, someone once said. I always thought that was about the people who were hungry, naked and in prison. Now I see it’s just as much about us and how we can find ourselves by forgetting ourselves. 

All it takes is getting on the floor and sitting beside another.

Finding by Forgetting

Lost in thoughts about the argument he had with his wife over breakfast and the disturbing call from the bank, he entered the elevator unaware of the woman cowering in the corner. Looking over as the doors closed, he asked if she was alright. No, she said, she wasn’t. Ever since her husband died, she’d been deathly afraid of riding in elevators. The man went and sat on the floor beside her until they reached her floor. Once she was gone, he realized he hadn’t thought of himself or his worries at any point while sitting beside the woman.

Of all the ways we get lost, getting lost in our thoughts and worries is the most frightening. Far from losing our way in the woods or taking the wrong road, getting lost in one’s thoughts and feelings is darker and more bewildering.

When I get lost, I often try to figure things out on my own, but I always become entangled in my own thinking, wrapped up in my feelings. The solution is never found within. Only when I’ve gone beyond myself and focused on someone else has the darkness and confusion been lifted. Like the man in the elevator, when I’ve sat beside another and focused on what was going on with them have I forgotten my thoughts and worries.

When I was hungry, you fed me .  . . when I was naked, you clothed me . . . and when I was in prison you visited me, someone once said. I always thought that was about the people who were hungry, naked and in prison. Now I see it’s just as much about us and how we can find ourselves by forgetting ourselves. 

All it takes is getting on the floor and sitting beside another.

God Speaking

All she did was clear her throat as she slept in the loft above the kitchen, but the sound was as if angels were singing. Maybe I’m just a Dad who misses the sounds of his children, but because she’s my child and the sound could only belong to her, I listened with a heart filling with gratitude faster than my mug was filling with coffee.

One of the first theologians who stirred my soul was a man who awakened in the darkness of his own imperfect humanity and laid on the ground praying for God to speak. He only heard two branches hitting one another, but the CLACK CLACK was enough to stir his soul for years.

I often wonder why God keeps himself such a secret, but this morning I realized that the problem lies not with God’s silence but my listening. Too often I listen for God’s voice only in church or expect it to arrive in King James English. The fact is, God speaks all the time, in church and in the gutter, in poetic prose and broken English (and other languages), in the bright moments and dark. Whether it’s a piece of music or two branches hitting one another, a sermon or a clearing of a young girl’s throat, God speaks. 

The question is will I have the ears to hear and a heart to receive?