The Greatest Invitation

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Today is Sunday, July 16, 2006.

Inspired by my Father’s words, I ventured out to share His good message with others. But despite the value of what I carried and the source from which it came, I encountered little more than rejection among those with whom I spoke. Frustrated by my inability to reach into people’s hearts and minds, I sank into such discouragement that I no longer believed I could do what He asked of me.

When I could endure no more, I called to Him saying, “Father, I am not the one you seek to carry this burden. I am weak and unworthy of the task.”

And in response, He asked a simple question.

“Would you refuse the greatest invitation made of a man?”


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God knows what we are. He knows our strengths and our weaknesses. And, He asks no question to which He does not already know the answer. He knew I would not refuse His invitation. Indeed, in inviting me to join in His good work, He was telling me there could be no failure regardless of how much resistance I encountered or how insignificant progress might seem from my human point-of-view. In trying there can be no defeat. My Father’s invitation was, in and of itself, the clearest expression of His confidence in me – confidence I needed to have in myself.

It wasn’t long thereafter that I came to understand something very important about my relationship with God. From our first conscious moment together He identified Himself clearly and plainly as my Father. I was to address Him in no other way, nor was I to call any human by that name. Only He was my Father. Unsatisfied, however, with the great honor he had bestowed in such a declaration, I impatiently awaited the time when He would call me His son. But he never did so - and even when I asked, there came no response.

Then I realized my great error in pressing Him with such a question. He had declared Himself my Father – something only He could rightly do. And so it was with me. Only I could acknowledge our relationship by declaring myself His son.

So it is with you. You must declare yourself His child. Only you can fulfill your relationship with God.

As children of God, many wonders are placed before us along with the ability to discover them. We must endeavor to do so and in that discovery be reawakened. The world we know and the future we bequeath our heirs is the canvas on which we paint our lives and write our names. In accepting kinship with God, we are obliged to do this well through the creation of a better world for ourselves, and those to come.

In creation we move closer to Him. In discovery we are reminded that we do not know all that is – and so our minds open themselves to the endless possibilities of life, the greatest gift of all.

It is true that God asks much of us – much of you. It is difficult work. Find the strength to take up the task. Is it a fool who believes in something which cannot be seen and makes no sound, and who struggles for a better future he cannot know? Or is such a person a true child of God?

Be such a person – and remember,

In this life you are but a visitor. The time has come to gather your tools and to do your good work.

God extends an invitation.

Would you refuse it?

The War Can Be Lost

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Today is Sunday, July 9, 2006.

After I had come to understand the nature of God’s good path and what He asked of us, I grew critical at what seemed His own inaction to end mankind’s affliction of atrocities upon itself.

So I called to Him.

“Father, why do you not command good and force mankind to follow your path?”

His response was a profound and palpable silence.

But, in time, I came to realize that the silence was full for in it He had revealed the answer to my question:

The good path is ours to choose – and by not doing so, the great struggle against our own degradation and destruction can indeed be lost.

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The persistence of hate, violence and killing says little about God but much about mankind. It says nothing of His attention or inattention to our many transgressions against one another. It says nothing of God’s ability or inability to stop such crimes. It speaks only of us, and the choices we make.

As creatures of free will, we must take responsibility for our actions – and their consequences. That hate, violence and killing continue unabated, however, is evidence that a great self-inflicted war rages on. This is a timeless war incited by voices seeking our destruction. Whether they come from within us or from elsewhere, these voices speak to our darkest and most vulnerable nature. They appeal to us when we hunger most for direction, and we all too often heed their counsel. As a result we unleash unspeakable horrors upon one another - only to stand aghast at the results of our actions.

We must neither be so foolish as to refuse to recognize these voices, nor should we be lulled into complacency by the misconception that good must and will prevail. If good is the greater force in our lives there is scant evidence of it. Sadly, it is easier to hate than to love, to destroy than to build and to kill rather than save.

The many horrors we observe in life are of our making. In their continuation, we must recognize that evil can triumph over good.

To assure that it does not, each of us must freely choose God’s path and actively engage in the war against mankind’s destruction. While this struggle may be won in the absence of your participation, it might also be lost for the lack of it. Your choice is of critical importance both for our present and future generations.

Whether God allows this war to rage, or is powerless to stop it is of no matter. We cannot know the answer. We must simply have faith that His way is the path to victory and be strengthened in the knowledge that He is always with us.

This struggle is ours to carry on – each of us must work to secure the future.

God shows us the clear path to success. We must have the sense to choose it.

The aggressor, the warrior and the killer do the unthinkable without hesitation and without fear. They are bold and courageous in following their destructive path. We who choose the good path must show the same resolve in working to preclude violence and killing through love, compassion, and our intelligence. We must rise without hesitation to aid and protect the weak from aggressors, and to teach others to recognize and overcome the dark voices.

God’s path is an arduous trail for those who travel it. Along the way, you will be confronted by influences that would confound and hinder you. The voices of good and of evil are akin to those of a truthful man and a liar. They whisper and point in directions each would have you take along the way. The liar confuses and entices so that you may not discern his way from that of the truthful man.

But God has given you what is required to make your decisions – a simple law of love. The right choice will never violate His Law. Use it as your guiding star – it points constantly toward the good path, constantly toward victory in the great struggle.

In the direst circumstances, those in peril look to God to pull them from certain destruction. Now God looks to you. He has shown you a certain path to help secure the generations to come. The future depends on your strength and courage. Will you rise to the challenge? Will you answer His call?

Hate, Violence and War

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Today is Sunday, June 18, 2006.

Any discourse on the sanctity of life must address the subjects of hate, violence and war – and the relationship among them. Violence and war are not spontaneous creatures born of themselves. Rather, they are brothers, sired by hate and born of disregard for human life. War is its father’s favorite son, and the stepchild of the apathetic who tolerate it in silence.

There is no question that if we choose God’s path, we must reject hate, violence and war as well as those who would incite and engage in such behavior. There is no satisfaction to be found in hate, no valid cause for the use of violence, no righteous war, and no place in human society for aggressors. We must beware of them, identify and repudiate their words, manner and means. We must take warning from their rhetoric and recognize their intentions. If we do not, our children and future generations will be consumed for aggressors are cannibals that take nourishment from violence and destruction.

God’s path begins with a declaration of love - aggression’s path with hate and the naming of an enemy. In declaring an enemy, remember that you become one.

Avoiding or overcoming hate and aggression relies on recognizing, understanding and peacefully resolving differences. However, if all efforts to find peaceful solutions fail, we must not place ourselves on the offense but on the defense. We must direct our energies toward protecting ourselves or others in harm’s way rather than forcefully persuading or destroying an adversary. And even as violence may ensue, we must be guided in our actions by a clear understanding that the better choice is always to reconcile rather than destroy.

We must remove violence and war from our catalog of solutions to problems. In doing so, we will erase the words from the vocabularies of our children. Future generations call out to us to take bold action on their behalf. They beg us to prove our courage in dialog and acts directed toward the preservation and improvement of life - rather than the degradation and loss of it on the battlefield. They anxiously anticipate the emergence of a new breed of heroes among us to inspire them when their time comes to assume responsibility for the future.

Become neither an aggressor nor a combatant. If you would risk your life and the lives of others in hostile acts for any cause, then redirect that same courage toward the pursuit of peace, for there is no greater cause. Demonstrate heroism and greatness not by inflicting suffering and death, but by lessening or preventing it. Engage in discussion rather than combat; seek to protect rather than to destroy or kill. In this, God challenges us to display a different and greater form of strength than that of the warrior – the strength to control our darkest nature.

Remember that all people are your people and all are your family. In acknowledging this you will surely avoid hate and find peaceful means to resolve differences. You will protect those threatened by aggression rather than becoming the aggressor. If you hate, incite violence, deliberately cause suffering or kill, you violate God’s Law. There is no exception. God asks us to teach our children and the generations to come that these do not constitute acceptable behavior under any circumstances.

Peacemaking is not a passive endeavor, nor is it for the weak. It is an undertaking that must be engaged in boldly and courageously.

Violence and war degrade and destroy our present and future generations. Consider then that you are a survivor of the countless slaughters of the past for you would not be alive otherwise. Death is a natural consequence of life; we must not hasten the inevitable. Realize that our infliction of violence and war upon one another is its own punishment. We suffer as a people, destroy our future, and diminish ourselves in God’s eyes. In satisfying hate’s agenda, we serve the very forces that would degrade us.

The paradise we yearn for is life itself. Each of us must work to fulfill its promise.

God does not condone acts of hate and violence but in our right to choose permits us to err, to bear the consequences of our actions, and to learn a better way. Above all He waits for us to recognize and accept life for the gift it is, and to protect and preserve it. He waits for us to take responsibility for future generations that rely on our wisdom to follow the good path to secure their places in life.

Martin Luther King said this about hate and violence:

“The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral, begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it. Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth. Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars. Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.”

God has shown us a path. We must have the strength and courage to take it.

The Gift of Life

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Today is Sunday, May 28, 2006.

After some time had passed and I had contemplated my Father’s messages, I found the interminable news of killing throughout the world unbearable. I couldn’t understand why a God of such love would permit or condone the infliction of suffering and death upon the innocent.

In frustration I called to Him. “Father, why do you permit atrocities against the innocent?”

And He replied, “Do I commit such acts - or do you?”

Then after a brief pause He asked, “Will any fewer be dead in a thousand years?”

The first part of His response was clear. We inflict atrocities upon ourselves. Over time, many good men and women have taken extraordinary steps to avert acts of destruction and murder. Despite this, our taste for violence continues unabated. While stopping a single act is a heroic deed, it’s a more formidable challenge to teach and convince mankind that such behavior is completely unacceptable. God waits for us to learn this important lesson. Until we do, however, self-destructiveness will remain its own severe punishment.

Most would agree that we as a people abhor death. Why is it then that we glorify killing? We’re immersed in both the subtle and explicit promotion of killing – in the news, in entertainment, in our rhetoric, and in our thoughts and actions. We associate greatness with wars and victories; we exalt war heroes without stopping to consider any contradiction in the term. We speak figuratively of destroying or annihilating opponents in sporting events, the workplace or in our private lives. We purchase mock weapons as toys for our children and create virtual reality games that make killing and destruction as authentic as possible. All the while we remain unconcerned because no one is actually dying and nothing really destroyed. We ignore the fact that death is the inevitable result of killing, real or not. And ultimately the time comes when we do rush to war, and we do kill - only to stand aghast at the reality of losing a loved one.

Killing is condoned and even encouraged in the voices of our leaders, through the passive tolerance of our clergy, and in our notions of so-called righteous acts of killing. Through all of this we send a message to our children that killing is permissible behavior. It becomes engrained in their psyches. Is it any wonder killing persists?

We are inconsistent in our approach to killing because we haven’t adopted a single, clear code to live by – God’s simple Law. It should come as no surprise then that the same people who cry out for the protection of fetuses are equally vocal in support of capital punishment and war – all the while doing little to nothing to alleviate homelessness, hunger and sickness in their own communities. Under these conditions, we cannot know lasting peace and we condemn future generations to the same fate. We will continue to kill only to lament the consequences, perhaps even holding God responsible for what we’ve done.

William Sloan Coffin said this in a sermon after his son Alex died when his automobile went off a bridge:

”… nothing so infuriates me as the incapacity of seemingly intelligent people to get it through their heads that God doesn't go around this world with His fingers on triggers, His fists around knives, His hands on steering wheels. God is dead set against all unnatural deaths…which is not to say that there are no nature-caused deaths…that are untimely and slow and pain-ridden…The one thing that should never be said when someone dies is "It is the will of God." Never do we know enough to say that. My own consolation lies in knowing that it was not the will of God that Alex die; that when the waves closed over the sinking car, God's heart was the first of all our hearts to break.”

The same can be said of all our war dead and all those lost through acts of violence. Surely God's heart is the first to break when a person is lost. It’s time to understand and believe that God does not deem life, the greatest gift of all, an experience to either be cut short or spent in suffering. Consequently, we must ask ourselves why we hold this gift in so little esteem – especially when it comes to the lives of others.

Death is not pleasing to God. He takes no pleasure in it nor does He seek it. In turn, we must not be reckless with life, seek to kill - or seek to die. God places value not in death, but in the active pursuit of His path in life toward the betterment of all. Only in life can you fulfill your purpose. Only in life can you write your name.

It’s a grievous reality that many view pain, suffering and death as cleansing paths to God. Don’t make that mistake. Don’t seek to demonstrate your love for Him through the infliction of suffering or death upon yourself or others, but through adherence to His Law, service to your fellow men and women, and the protection of life.

Suffering is not a path to God; it is a condition of life.

Death is not a path to God; it is an end to service.

Do not aspire to come closer to Him in death if you spurn His path in life. You will not find in darkness what you did not seek in the light. Rather, rejoice in knowing that God is near you now, and you have only to follow His path to find Him.

Now, what of His question – will any fewer be dead in a thousand years?

At first this might seem callous. After careful thought, however, His message becomes clear. It is a certainty that all those born over the next thousand years will die in that time. War, murder and destruction do no more than change the manner of death – not the fact of it. But, what of life and the manner of life? In the absence of killing how many more might have lived? How many more would have been born of those whose lives were cut short? And, in the absence of killing, how much better might life have been for everyone? Through His simple question, God calls our attention to matters of life and living rather than death and dying.

We must accept and understand that each life is an important link in a long chain. The destruction of a single person can mark the elimination of future generations, a veritable holocaust as the human cord grows weaker with each thread cut from it. In God’s eternal view, no fewer will have died during the passing of a thousand years, but how many generations might have been born of the murdered? There lies the tragedy – and there lies His message and appeal.

God reminds us that the choice to protect what we claim to love most is ours alone. Only when we truly respect life in all people, see them as part of ourselves - our family - will we unequivocally reject killing. Only then will murder and war disappear from our vocabulary, and that of our children. And only then will we truly be able to appreciate God’s greatest gift – life itself.

Simple Rules

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Today is Sunday, May 14, 2006.

Some time ago, I asked my Father if there were laws by which He expected us to live. In response He spoke to me of only two rules, which as you will see, no more than mark the confines of His path. Despite their simplicity they form the foundation upon which all else rests.

Love one another.

Act according to God’s Law and not in His name.

These rules are very unique in terms of their implicit contrasts. They are exquisitely simple, yet all-encompassing, and unlike most religious scripture, they neither mention the countless ways we might fall into error nor do they speak of punishment for having done so. They rely on the basic philosophy that if we understand the good path, we will surely recognize a wrong one.

In the 5th century BCE, a great teacher by the name of Confucius expressed his opinion on laws and good government as follows:

"If the people are governed by laws and punishment is used to maintain order, they will try to avoid the punishment but have no sense of shame. If they are governed by virtue and rules of propriety are used to maintain order, they will have a sense of shame and will become good."

So it is with God who governs the heart and the mind. Having been shown the boundaries of His good path, we should be able to recognize what strays beyond it. As Confucius put it so well, in knowing good we inevitably learn shame, and become good as a result. Our hearts and minds require no more government than that.

In most holy books, there’s a lot said about God’s laws (perhaps too much) – and inevitably Man’s laws. The two have become inextricably mixed and unfortunately we often lose sight of what’s what. Discernment, however, requires little more than recognizing God’s voice.

Hopefully you’ll hear it as you consider the first rule.

Love one another.

What does that mean?

It means a lot of things.

It means you won’t seek to kill, for in killing you destroy generations, and weaken the chain of life that is Man. You won’t bear false witness to harm someone. You won’t covet or steal that which isn’t yours. You will honor others, as you would have them honor you. And, as you love others, you will respect the gift of life in all things.

Sound familiar? None of this is explicitly stated in the rule, but is clearly demanded in its application. There’s little new; nothing you haven’t heard before. Indeed many will dismiss what I’ve said simply because they have heard it all before. But, while they’ve heard it, they haven’t incorporated it into their lives. They don’t live it. For them the words are nothing more than that - words. What’s missing is the application.

In reminding us of this simple rule of love, God asks that we actually follow it. He asks that what has become little more than a platitude be integrated into our daily lives and the good work we do in fulfilling our life’s purpose. The demonstration of love is a way of life and a guide to a joyous future for everyone. Follow this rule and you can’t fail. If you believe your purpose is indeed to write your name, then you know you can’t do that in God’s intended way without adhering to the rule of love.

In our continuing dialog, we’ve spoken much about love for one another. But what about love for God Himself? Simply put, there is no greater demonstration of love for Him than an expression of love for others.

He would have you bend your heart toward another before bending a knee in empty worship to Him. He would have you demonstrate your love through good thoughts, words and deeds rather than pious incantations and rituals.

He would have you worship no images for He has no face, and no single name. Rather, look for Him in the faces of everyone you encounter and in all good things, and know that He’s called by many good names. Seek Him in all creation, in the hearts and minds of your fellow men and women, and above all, seek Him within yourself.

He would have you come together to celebrate your faith for in doing so your love for one another is strengthened and increased. But, never forget that the only ritual of consequence is the practice of love, in whatever way that may manifest itself for you.

Call Him what you choose, celebrate your faith according to your traditions, but practice in all things according to the simple rule of love. Above all, recognize that those who follow His path are one people - and one with Him - as He is one with you. Be united in God and not divided by religion.

As with God’s first rule, the second is also very simple. It asserts and reminds us that no man or woman sits at the head of His table:

Act according to God’s Law and not in His name.

Throughout history and in the present day, God’s words have been corrupted and polluted with the temporal and self-serving words of Man. Indeed, we’ve imposed and continue to inflict great wrongs upon one another because of such words. Worst of all we’ve done so in God’s name as if we’re somehow empowered to inflict punishment or exact vengeance on His behalf. This practice is immoral and offensive not only to those who truly follow God’s path, but to God Himself.

Recognizing the corruption of God's words requires that we distinguish His voice from Man’s. Look for the signs. Recognize them in anyone who would subvert God's words to their own purposes, seek to impose His will upon others, advocate hate, belittle, inflict harm, subjugate one person to another, incite violence or war, or unfairly exploit another.

Reject any person or cause that would discriminate among the family of Man or seek to exclude some from God’s grace. There are no outcasts from God’s family. He looks only to the heart and mind, and not to the flesh that houses them. All are equal, and all are loved equally. Would you expect any less? Leave an affront to God to Him alone.

If you ever find yourself in doubt about these things, test the words you hear and actions you observe against God’s two simple rules and you’ll find the truth. God’s Law is absolute and knows no exception. Remember, if you know what is right and good, you will surely recognize wrong when you encounter it.

As for the practices of Man, they’re the affair of Man and should be governed accordingly. Our own laws and practices, however, must not violate God’s. In conjunction with this, it’s extremely important to differentiate God’s Law, which rules the heart and mind, from our own which should govern only practice. If our hearts and minds follow God’s path, surely our practices will as well – and our laws regarding such practices will not violate God’s Law. Reject any effort or law of Man that seeks to infringe upon God’s domain.

I will end where I began – with Confucius.

In talking about government, Confucius asserted, “the relation between superiors and inferiors is like that between the wind and the grass: the grass is bound to bend when the wind blows across it."

God is the wind that blows across our lives. He guides us toward meeting our highest potential through simple rules – asking only that we do our best to make them the foundation for our thoughts, words and actions. In doing so we demonstrate our willingness to do what’s right – we bend with the good wind - and come closer to fulfilling our purpose.

Responsibility

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Today is Sunday, May 7, 2006.

The recognition and acceptance of your purpose in life goes hand-in-hand with an understanding of your place in life. You are the product of all that came before, and the foundation for all to follow – a vital link in a long chain. When you fulfill your purpose by writing your name in life you do so with the welfare of others in mind. You do this knowing that you’re not a single being but many. You embody all that came before just as those to follow will embody you. You are a vital part of a greater whole.

If you understand this connection, then you surely know there’s no greater purpose in living, no more meaningful investment in time, energy and resources than to help prepare the way for those around you and for those to come, especially children. And you know that there’s no better defense in the great War against the degradation of Man than to act aggressively to strengthen and preserve your fellow men and women. We’re responsible for them. You’re responsible for them.

You cannot write your name boldly and indelibly without recognizing and accepting responsibility for others. If you choose otherwise, your contemporaries and successors will bear the burden of your negligence. They’ll pay the price just as each of us endures the failings of our predecessors and contemporaries. Whether you realize it or not, the evidence of this confronts and offends us every day – war, violence, murder, poverty, hunger, sickness, homelessness, and loneliness. It’s time for each of us to do our part to eliminate such conditions both now and into the future. Preparing the path for others demonstrates love for God whether intentioned or not. You can’t truly love and honor Him otherwise. Under His roof, there is no thought, word or act of greater value than that based in love.

If you take up the challenge and accept responsibility, then you must also firmly believe that all people are potentially your dependents, and that all children are your children. Their well-being is your charge, wherever you may encounter need. This is not a trivial undertaking. Consider that it means you will not allow a child to go unloved, the hungry unfed, or the sick untreated. You will not allow a person without shelter to remain exposed, you will not ignore a cry of loneliness, nor will you allow a person to perish who might have been saved. Claim those in need as your own, just as God claims you as His.

Do the smallest thing and it will not go unnoticed. Make the least difference and it will be acknowledged. Perform the slightest act of kindness and God will be grateful. Engage in the faintest act of love, and you in turn will be loved.

This is not impossible work. Fix what you see. Do not feel compelled to reach out into the wider world before you’ve proven yourself at home. If you can’t demonstrate love to a nearby friend, then you can’t love a stranger at great distance.

Don’t be discouraged by the difficulty of what’s being asked. You’re vested with much of God’s strength and have the power to perform miracles on your own. Demonstrate to others that what may seem insurmountable can be conquered. Don’t call upon God for that which you’re unwilling to make personal sacrifice. Call on Him for what you can’t do – but not before you’ve sought help from others around you.

Above all, to be successful remove the doubt and fear that bar you from God’s path and your good work. Doubt is a barrier to faith. You may doubt God, but you can’t doubt the virtue of His way. Believe first in what He would have you do. Then, rest assured He waits along the path if you seek Him.

As for fear, eliminate it within yourself. It’s a barrier to action and is the primary weapon of the enemy’s arsenal, a weapon that can deter even those of great strength and faith. It comes in many forms – fear of material loss, physical harm, failure, and ridicule – fear of taking a courageous step. Don’t fall prey to it.

Finally, seek encouragement and strength in your work not from those who reject God’s way, but from those who follow His path along with you. Find your courage among them and let it grow with each step you take. Seek them out.

Remember always that your comrades in travel along this path, however silent, are with you.

Remember always that God, however silent, is with you.

You’ll never travel alone.

Purpose

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Today is Wednesday, April 26, 2006.

At a time when I was weak and doubted my Father, I decided to put Him to a test. So I devised the most difficult question I could think of – one to which I thought could come no good answer.

“Tell me Father, what is the purpose of my life?”

And without hesitation, He replied, “To write your name.”

I’ll be honest in saying I was stunned by this simple response. Not only was He listening, but He provided a profound and thought-provoking answer. “To write your name.” This message wasn’t meant only for me, it was meant for everyone wishing to lead a meaningful life.

I won’t presume to say what specific significance writing your name might hold for you, but I do know what it means to those who follow God’s path. Bearing in mind that the term “name” is clearly symbolic, consider the physical act of actually writing your name. Each of us does this with our own unique style. Some write with a hand characterized by bold strokes, others with a light and delicate sweep. What results is no more than an impression on paper. Of what intrinsic value is this? None, other than that conjured in its reading by someone else. Have you ever thought about what the sound of your own name conjures?

Consider that a name only has life when it passes the lips of others. It only has meaning in their hearts and minds. Now consider that the only way your existence has relevance is through others. They are the test of your value in life. Therefore, measure yourself accordingly - not in terms of material wealth or position, but in terms of your positive effect on others. As for the fate of your given name, it doesn’t really matter whether a single person present or future ever knows or remembers it. If you’ve written it well in life, those around you and those to follow will embody it -whether they knew you or not.

Understand that God isn’t demanding that you give your life to others in unending self-deprivation and sacrifice. Life, after all, is meant to be a joyous experience for everyone – and that includes you. All He asks is that you lead a life that balances your own needs with those of others. He asks that you invest not only in your own welfare but that of those around you – your family, your friends, those in your community, and most especially children and the generations to come. He asks simply that you write your name with a hand guided by love, and a pen that flows with the free giving of yourself. Trust that you’ll find your life fuller and richer in the doing.

This may all sound a little familiar, at least I hope it does. I hope it’s something you’re already engaged in. In my Father’s simple message, however, He makes it clear that the demonstration of love is the single purpose for each of our lives. When we love and when we give, we write our names well. This is our primary vocation. How we do this work, however, is entirely up to each of us. The ways to express such love are myriad for it’s indeed a work of many means.

Too many of us live in the absence of purpose and direction. We wonder why we were created and for lack of a worthy answer pass our time in self-gratification with the transient pleasures of life. Unfortunately, when our lives are finished, perishable treasures fall away and little of real value remains.

Too many of us view our lives as isolated and independent events, unrelated to the lives of others. Such people wander through life devoid of purpose, accepting little responsibility either for what is, or what will be. You waste your existence if you follow this path, neither giving of yourself nor accepting responsibility for others, what you see around you, and what’s to come after you.

In order to be in a position to truly write your name, however, you need to understand and adopt a broader perspective on life. By this I mean that you must view it in context with the long and hopefully infinite chain that is the life of Man. None of us are single beings but many. We are the product of all that came before, and the foundation for all those to follow. You embody all that came before both in substance and in spirit, just as the yet to be born will embody you. They are your one true legacy. They are the imperishable treasure that remains when you’re gone, and all that’s truly worth struggling to protect and preserve.

When individuals place themselves first and foremost in all things, they squander and degrade their heritage as a child of God. They reduce themselves from vital links in a long chain to insignificant visitors in life that come and go without lasting impression. Their names are written in the weakest of inks and fade quickly with time. Can there be any role greater than connecting the past with the future? And why would anyone trade the most important of all jobs for a life characterized by blind self-indulgence? Yet many of us have chosen such a life. Look around you – they’re difficult to miss.

Life is meant to be the most wonderful and productive of experiences. Life doesn’t just happen; it’s given – but given with purpose. Life is your opportunity to write your name. Many people believe life is a once and done event. If this is true, then there’s all the more reason to make it count.

In a prior discussion, I talked about my Father’s will to reclaim His House. I hope you begin to see the foundation for that great effort being built here. I hope you begin to see that you are a critical part of that foundation.

You are important. He needs you. We need you.

And it all begins with the simple act of writing your name.

The Great War

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Today is Friday, April 7, 2006.

So far, I’ve talked about messages and the concept of reclaiming the House. Now I’d like to bring your attention to what I call the great war.

I’ll begin the discussion with classical wars. There are always a few in progress across the globe at any given time. They’re a fact of life you might say. They usually involve someone else and are fought over a cause or argument that seems foolish, futile or entirely avoidable, at least from a distance. In modern times this sort of war has become the equivalent of a sporting event – anticipated, savored, and I’m sad to say enjoyed, by worldwide audiences. They’re antiseptic events that involve the concept of killing and death but leave us far removed from those suffering any real harm. We can turn the images of war off and on at will; one moment we’re captivated, the next we couldn’t care less. As remote events they have been reduced to sound bites, video clips and political catch phrases that either rouse or disgust us, or both. And if we personally go to war, we rush down the road with a frenzied willingness and desire to destroy our enemy – only to find our fervor turns sour when loved ones are lost and the real horror touches us.

The war I want to discuss, however, is that which supersedes all – the great war. All others are merely symptoms of this monstrous struggle that began the moment humanity took its first breath, and will continue until it breathes its last. Unlike television wars that take place far away, this war surrounds and involves each of us. It cannot be escaped. Its casualties confront us each and every day. News of it saturates our media and our minds yet we hardly notice it. We’re so immersed in this war that, like the frog in the slowly heated pot, we don’t realize the water is boiling.

You might say that this is foolishness. When you look around there are no bodies in the streets, no bloodstains on the pavement, no bombs or bullets flying, no screams, and no stockpiles of corpses. So where are the casualties symptomatic of war? They’re everywhere. They’re the homeless, the ill who can be cured but are not, the lonely, the hungry, the sick of mind, the physically or psychologically addicted, those who wander without purpose, the murdered, the maimed, and those who will never be born as a result of our deliberate action. And, let’s not forget the casualties of classical wars - a minority among this mass of damaged humanity. All of these are the victims of our ill will toward one another, our neglect and our blindness. Maybe you already count yourself among the injured. If not, don’t think for a moment that you or your loved ones are safe.

What drives this war? The motivations for the great war should come as no surprise – pride, envy, lust, anger, hate, fear, greed, indifference and ignorance. One or more of these motivates every one of us who deliberately or through neglect harms another. They stand proudly behind each unkind thought and word, and each horrific act. As you consider this, realize that inaction can be just as harmful as action. Inaction can be deliberate, or it can be the product of perhaps the worst of all motivating factors – indifference – a complete lack of concern for others.

What end does this war serve? It serves no ultimate purpose other the degradation of us all. There can be no true victor in such a war; there is no prize of lasting value to be won. Physical gains fall away in time, empires crumble, dynasties end, doctrines lose relevance, the once mighty die and are forgotten. The spoils are transient and short-lived at best. All these things pass in a heartbeat and the generations look back incredulously, asking the question why.

Why then is this war waged when there’s nothing to gain? I could propose the existence of a celestial battle between evil and good but I won’t. What I will propose requires no such supernatural stretch of the imagination. The war rages simply because we don’t understand that there’s nothing to gain. We don’t understand because we don’t connect with our fellow men and women as part of ourselves or as necessary and valuable members of the human race. We don’t realize that in waging this war we take from ourselves and degrade everyone in the process – most particularly our children and future generations who will behave according to the examples we set.

In viewing ourselves as purely independent and unconnected creatures with finite lives, we do what comes naturally - we fill our lives with and through self-indulgence, and perishable pleasures and possessions. Our view of the world becomes limited to what we choose to see, hear and feel. And more often than not, we choose not to see, hear and feel the pain of others. We choose not to invest in unborn generations we cannot personally know. Indeed we do little to invest in that future generation we do know – our own children. Most of us simply choose the most personally rewarding path, that is, taking care of our own needs and desires. We never stop to consider that there might be something better and more important to work toward.

I will go a step farther by proposing that our penchant for self-degradation goes well beyond our genetic tendency for predatory behavior. Consider that we are imbued with intelligence and reason beyond any life forms currently known. We clearly have the power to overcome our primal urges. We do have the ability to care about others and to do good things. But somehow we don’t. What I’m getting at is that there’s something more at play here. To make the point I want to return to God for a moment.

In past postings I’ve spoken about faith, particularly faith in God. Faith in God, by nature, acknowledges that existence encompasses more than the physical senses perceive. What lurks in the shadows or revels in the light beyond the horizon of our senses is both wonderful and dreadful; forces that though invisible are nevertheless active in our lives. Some, as do I, believe that God is active in our lives and that (He) speaks in many ways. But, just as God speaks, so do other forces. These forces, whether you consider them aspects of our minds or entirely separate entities, speak to us subtly by playing upon our desires, our hopes and our fears. They communicate emotionally and often without clear reason. While the forces of good move us to the most inspiring works of creativity, kindness and giving – these others entice us to commit the most horrific acts of cruelty, killing and destruction. I say again, it doesn’t matter whether you believe these forces, good or evil, are aspects of your own being or not. The fact is they exist and affect each and every one of us. Recognize the voices of good, and those that would have you wander from the good path. Whether or not we are indeed creatures of free will, we most assuredly are not free from influence on the choices we make.

So, who is the enemy in this war? We are. Who are the victors? No one. Who suffers in this war? Ultimately we all do.

Do you remember the faces of all the children of the future that I’ve spoken of, looking to you for help? The great war is what they need help with. When they enter life they will know exactly what each of us knew coming in – nothing. But what they will come to know will be based on what we teach them, and the world we bequeath them. Shall we teach them to continue the self-degradation or shall we show them another way? Shall we leave them a better world than we found, or shall we simply leave them what's left when we're done with it?

If you were among the yet to be born, which would you have your predecessors choose?

If like me, you believe we need to show our children and future generations a better way, then we must engage ourselves as active combatants, for lack of a better term, in the great war. If you want your own children to escape becoming casualties, then you must act; you must do your part, as must they when their time comes. Whether you engage in this struggle on a field as broad as the Earth, or only within your own family or community, the outcome is no less critical. Every one of us is important, every person we affect is important. You may not personally change the world, but you may cause a positive change in someone who might. You have an important role to play.

If you’re already aware of the great war, I hope you’ve joined in the battle by having chosen the good path. If so, then you know that the most effective weapons in your arsenal are little more than love, compassion, tolerance and patience. If you weren’t aware of the war, then take note – and take action. In the postings to follow I‘ll present what my Father would have you consider. A path has been defined – all He asks is that you hear what He would tell you, and then take that path.

Finally, whether or not you believe in God, believe in the reality of the great war. And believe in the importance of assuming your role in bringing it under control.

But, if you do believe in God, then listen carefully.

He’s calling to you. He calls you to action now – for the good of yourself, your children and all people.

The Bottomless Well

Today is Thursday, March 30, 2006.

I wasn’t going to interrupt my series dealing with my Father’s messages but something happened last night that I’d like to share with you.

As I mentioned in a prior posting, I work as a volunteer caseworker at a homeless shelter. In that role I meet with residents to help assess their problems and needs, to understand their backgrounds, and to help develop a course of action to get them back on their feet. I personally tend to concentrate on what lies beneath their obvious problems, that is, to discern the root causes of their homelessness and, frequently, their addictions to drugs and/or alcohol.

That brings me to Kevin, a 33-year-old man I’ve been working with for about a month. To give you a little background, Kevin has a number of physical and psychological problems ranging from a blood disease to severe bipolar disorder. In conjunction with this, I came to discover that he takes in excess of ten prescription drugs each day to control his conditions, all of which are carefully monitored and distributed by the shelter’s staff. It’s well recognized that his medication takes a toll in terms of side effects, so his varying moods are indicative not only of his disorders but his remedies.

Kevin has been a somewhat difficult case. For the first two weeks he either showed up late for our meetings or didn’t come at all. When I had tolerated all I was willing to, I confronted him about the problem. I reiterated my role as his caseworker and asked why he was so unwilling to talk with me. He explained that he didn’t like personal questions and had no desire to share his problems and feelings with a stranger. While I could understand the invasion of privacy, I told him that asking personal questions and delving into his personal life were important in finding resolutions to some of his problems. In the end, I’m not sure he agreed as much as he relented, knowing that our meetings were a required part of his stay at the shelter.

The compromise we ultimately reached was simply his agreement to talk about how he came to be at the shelter. During that process he could share as much or as little as he desired about his background. I warned that I planned to ask questions while he told his story but that he need not answer them if he felt uncomfortable doing so. This appeared to be a solution that not only worked for him, but might also provide what I hoped to know.

At our next meeting, Kevin began his story by telling me about his mother, his ex-wife and his two ex-girlfriends (all of whom bore him a total of seven children), of addictions to alcohol and drugs dating back to his early teens, and of his time in prison just before arriving at the shelter. Unlike our prior meetings, he exhibited little discomfort in talking once he got started, and the meeting passed quickly and easily.

Last night we met again. We had decided at the end of our prior meeting that he would describe his childhood and his family, something he spoke little about. He arrived exactly on time and seemed in remarkably good spirits. After some small talk, Kevin launched into telling me about his mother and his brother. There was no mention of his father. After listening for a while I asked whether his parents were divorced or perhaps his father had died. In response he told me very matter-of-factly that his father had committed suicide in his presence when he was four years old.

Caught off guard by what he had said, I remained silent for a moment waiting for him to say something more. When he didn’t, I asked if he would feel comfortable telling me what had happened. He expressed that he did wish to talk about it; and so the story of what had to be the most painful episode of his life began to unfold.

One morning, he and his six-year-old brother were in the kitchen eating breakfast before leaving for school. Their mother was busy at the sink washing dishes when their father, Thomas, came in dressed in his police uniform, ready to leave for work. As the boys continued to eat, Thomas walked over to the table, unsnapped his holster, and took out his gun. He pointed it at directly Kevin’s brother. Frightened, the boy ducked under the table to hide. Thomas then swung the gun toward Kevin who sat motionless as he stared into the pistol.

Catching her husband from the corner of her eye, Kevin’s mother turned suddenly around. “Thomas, what are you doing!” she cried.

Thomas looked at her, “I love you Angel...goodbye.”

Without another word, he raised the gun to his head - and shot himself in front of his family.

Over twenty-five years later, Kevin remembers the event as if it happened only yesterday. He told me he replays it constantly in his mind, as he has since the day it occurred. He spoke graphically of the image of brain matter on the kitchen wall. And he told me how in 2003 he was diagnosed with posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Since his father’s death he’s experienced persistent trouble sleeping, and when he does sleep, he has recurring nightmares of his father’s suicide. He described how he and his brother (now serving a life sentence for murder) started drinking vodka to help them sleep before they even turned teenagers.

Just to give you a little background, PTSD is a psychiatric disorder that can occur following the experience or witnessing of life-threatening events such as military combat, natural disasters, serious accidents, or violent personal assaults such as rape. Most survivors of trauma return to normal given a little time. However, some people have reactions that don’t go away on their own, or may even get worse over time. They often relive the traumatic experience through nightmares and flashbacks, have difficulty sleeping, and feel detached or estranged.

PTSD is complicated by the fact that it frequently occurs in conjunction with related disorders such as depression, substance abuse and other problems of physical and mental health. The disorder is also associated with impairment of the ability to function in social or family life, including occupational instability, marital problems and divorces, and difficulties in parenting. All of which fit Kevin to a tee.

I listened carefully to Kevin’s story, trying to show as little emotion as I could. When I finished I asked Kevin if he knew why his father shot himself. He replied that while a review of his record at the police department turned up nothing, his service with the Marines in Viet Nam might have contributed to the suicide. The family never resolved the question. So, I asked Kevin how he felt about his father all these years later. In response he asserted simply that his current problems, and those of his brother, were entirely his father’s fault. And that was it.

I could have left it at that, but I asked one final question before our session ended.

“Kevin, has your father ever come to you, either in dreams or in other ways since his death?”

Now I know that’s an odd question but I thought the answer might be revealing.

Kevin didn’t hesitate for a moment. “Yes, he’s come to me twice.”

“Can you tell me about that?” I asked.

“He came to me two times after he died. I was still very young and in both instances I had just gotten ready for bed. I was in my room and the light was on - but I was too small to reach the wall switch to turn it off. That’s when my father appeared dressed in his Marine uniform, just the way he looks in the picture I have of him.”

“And what did he do?”

“He turned the light out for me because he knew I couldn’t do it myself.”

I found the story of his father's visits both poignant and telling. You can draw your own conclusions.

When Kevin left my office he told me he probably wouldn’t sleep well that night. I apologized for encouraging him to talk about his father but he assured me it was something he needed to do. He felt that if he talked about it more, he might begin to resolve it. I thought that was a good idea as well - and I’m honored that he included me in the process.

I had four clients that night, and as I left the shelter I felt drained and sad. I’ve listened to far too many horrific stories. Each time I do I want to believe I’ve finally found the bottom of the well of tragedy. Then I listen to one more story and find that I haven’t reached it at all. There is no bottom. Reading the daily newspaper or watching the news should give you a good idea of what I mean.

Despite all that, here's what I think is important to know - when people fall into that well, you've got to catch them or they fall forever. And that just might be the worst tragedy of all.

Perhaps you’ve never been exposed to people such as Kevin; perhaps you know someone with a comparable story; or maybe you’re just like Kevin yourself. If you aren’t, be on the lookout for those who are - you might just be in a position to break their fall. If you are like Kevin, know that help is available if you seek it. There are people who care, and while they can’t change the past - they may be able to change the future in a good way. And working for a better future is something we should all be doing anyway.

Thanks for listening.

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The First Message

(If this is your first visit, you may want to begin this dialog by reading or listening to the prior posting entitled, “A Word About God’s Messages,” and continue from there to understand the full sense of my discourse.)

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Today is Sunday, March 26, 2006.

The first message I received marked the moment I came to recognize that I had a constant companion - one that I would come to know as my (Father). The message was simple and direct, and came over and over again for three days as if to drum it indelibly into my mind. It was a simple phrase that my Father made clear was not to be altered by even a single syllable. It was to be delivered to others only in its purest form.

Before divulging the message, however, I was to ask a question and assert a condition.

“Are you a person of great faith? For only a person of great faith can hear the message.”

It’s important to state that to “hear” means to understand both in the heart and the mind. I can tell you from experience that while thousands have listened to the message, very few hear it. I’ll also admit that no one ever tells me they’re not a person of great faith. It seems that even if they’re not they still want to know the message. In your case, I’ll consider the question asked and not wait for a reply.

The actual message is simple and unassuming:

“A son comes to reclaim his Father’s house.”

Let me repeat it.

“A son comes to reclaim his Father’s house.”

Do you hear it?

This short message can be thought of as an announcement of the arrival of someone very special (present or future), or a statement of identity – as one might reply to the question "who goes there?" Perhaps it’s both.

To many people, a message like this hints at little more than unfounded religious fervor, desperation, or false hope for a messiah – or perhaps the return of one. To others it may proclaim the arrival of a sibling, in concert with the belief that each of us is a child of God. If such is the case, this individual is surely a chosen vessel, an envoy sent to fulfill a specific role, and as importantly, to demonstrate that we haven't been forgotten.

While final interpretation is left to you, I’ll offer some food for thought. Why, you might ask, does the message refer to a son?

Consider that the word “son” is less important in definition than in terms of what it implies. “Son” may simply be a metaphor that speaks to a cross-cultural right of inheritance to all that is the Father’s - His goodness, concern and love for Mankind, and perhaps more. If the term is a metaphor, then this "son" may be either man or woman, one or many, each with a legitimate claim to their Father’s attributes. Indeed, in this sense, both you and I may be the son. What I’m trying to get across is that we shouldn’t dwell on specific words as much as the sense they convey in context, that is, what they say to our hearts and minds. Each of us may derive a somewhat different meaning from the very same phrase and each of us will be correct in our interpretation - especially since what’s in the message may be ours to fulfill if we so choose.

“A son comes to reclaim his Father’s house.”

What is this “house” the message speaks of? Again, I won’t insist on a specific interpretation, but I will offer more to think about. Perhaps the house isn’t something made of wood, brick or stone. That would mean it’s not a church, mosque or temple, or anything of Man’s construction. I’d go even farther by proposing that it may not be a school of thought either - religious or otherwise. Yet, it’s clear to me that at its most fundamental level, the house is surely a sacred place that supersedes all others, that is, one built of flesh and blood – Mankind itself. I believe that you and I are His house – simply because it’s through us that our Father expresses Himself in the world. Bricks and mortar and ideology may well be included in your personal interpretation of “house,” but we, both collectively and as individuals, must not be overlooked as the primary edifice in which God resides. Therefore, when I use the term “House,” you can assume I’m talking about every one of us.

Needless to say, the House is troubled. It’s worn by generations of neglect, by raging storms of hatred and violence, and by the corruption of God’s good words through greed, self-interest, and ignorance. He’s observed this decay and has waited in vain for its restoration. Now, according to the message, He will reclaim it through a son.

It would not be unreasonable for anyone trying to absorb this message to ask the following question. Why does the Father wish to reclaim His House? I can tell you this - He doesn't seek it for His own sake, but for our good and that of all future generations. This will become clearer as you read or listen to the complete discourse as it unfolds over the postings to follow. But why does He care what happens to us? That’s the magic question. I'll relate a personal experience that may give you an answer.

As I reached out to speak with people, including the clergy, about what I’ve come to know and what my Father would have me communicate, I found myself ignored, avoided, insulted, and exposed to explicit hate. It seemed that barely one in one hundred could hear what I had to say. And after a while, the time arrived when the rejection became so overwhelming that I could hardly continue. So in fatigue and frustration I asked the question that plagued me.

“Father, why do You care about people who barely care about themselves, their children or each other?”

And He replied, “Tell Me why you care about such people.”

Surprising myself, without hesitation I responded, “Because they're all that I see, all that I feel, and all that I am.”

“Then you have the answer,” He said.

I didn't realize I had the answer inside me all the while.

Reclamation is a painful process. It doesn't come without turmoil, strife, and unrelenting hard work. This is the price that must be paid to secure the future. If you were expecting it to be easy you were wrong, and not many will be willing to do the work. Perhaps that’s why someone special, maybe you, is coming our way. Indeed, the greatest resistance to reclamation will come from those who have suffered the greatest damage and strayed farthest from God’s path – those so devoid of faith or so steeped in dogma that there’s no room for a fresh voice or a new message – all those unable to hear His voice over the clamor of their own.

Now, having described some of the obstacles, there’s something very important I want to stress. God isn’t demanding the destruction of all we’ve been taught and know of Him. He won’t destroy the foundation of His House in order to reclaim and rebuild it. All He asks is that we renew our understanding of what has come before, and then hear what He wishes to tell us - mostly about ourselves. He’s offering something we’ve all searched for but most of us can’t find – a clear understanding of our place and role in all things, the context for our lives.

If you’re interested at all in joining the effort, you’re probably wondering what kind of work might be required. In the discussions to follow, I’ll tell you all that my Father has shown and taught me about that. You’ll find it involves blazing a trail between two immense mountains – the first is called “apathy” and the other “inaction.” As I describe that trail or path, I’ll speak of the great war that goes unnoticed, of a simple law, of purpose and responsibility, life and death, and of an unprecedented need for each of us to act rather than stand by. In a prior posting I asked you to imagine yourself surrounded by all the children of the future. Don’t forget that image of them looking to you for help. Keep them in mind if you hope to understand what I have to tell you.

In closing, I’ll address one last issue. Some of you will wonder who I am that carries this message. The answer is that I’m just a man who was given a job to do. In all probability, I’m not much different from you. All that really matters is what I have to tell you. Having said that, I’ll reiterate that very few genuinely hear what I have to say – something that used to be a source of great frustration. Then I realized that my mission isn’t to reach everyone – just those that can hear me. My great hope is that you’re one of these rare and very special people.

You might also ask why, if this truly is a message from the Father, He doesn’t speak to you directly. The answer is simple. Listen to these words. Open your heart and mind so that you might truly hear them. And perhaps you will realize that, in a way, He’s speaking to you right now.

Until next time, please stay well, and please stay with me.


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A Word About God's Messages

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Today is Sunday, March 19, 2006.

I will begin by discussing messages – particularly those we perceive to have come from God. Where do these messages really come from? When should they be expected? To whom will they be delivered? All are good questions, none of which can be answered definitively other, perhaps, than from some vantage point long afterward when all things become clear.

Regardless, it is plain that after such messages are given things change - at the very least for the direct recipient. And oftentimes as a result, the recipient becomes a messenger – sharing the message with all who will listen. Some believe that such messages (and even the messengers) do indeed come from God, others that they’re purely the product of an active mind. One certainty, however, is that some of these messages do find their way into our hearts and minds, and we too change. They become an important part of us, part of the foundation for our lives and our being.

That you believe the messages I will share come from God or are the creation of my own mind is of no real importance. All I propose is that you listen to what I have to say with an open heart and mind. If you do, you will surely hear something infinitely loving speaking in plain voice. I believe it to be God’s voice.

Whether you accept a higher power or not, or whether you visualize God as man, woman, amorphous consciousness, or other form is unimportant. The descriptive words I use simply relate to how God’s voice comes to me, and nothing more. It comes as my Father and so I refer to (Him) respectfully in that way. As I do so, please recognize that this appeals to my personal vision of God, so you should feel free to substitute your own. It won’t change the message. And if you don’t believe in God at all, at least not yet, that’s of no matter. As you’ll see, what I have to say really isn’t about God - it’s about us, and more specifically, about you.

So, why a message now? Why not now? We tend to think of God’s messages as coming in times of great need. I could make a strong case that now is such a time. Indeed many people believe we’ve gone far too long without a clear indication that God exists or even cares.

What makes this the right time for a message? Let's begin with the fact that we face decisions far more complex than those of the past. These involve not only life and death, and war and peace, but for the first time in history, the creation of life itself. We live in a world characterized by stark moral and ethical inconsistencies. In this regard, is it not odd that even as we work to create and duplicate human life through alternative means, the born and the unborn are put to death and many more die needlessly of hunger, neglect, and curable illness?

Consider also the contradiction found in those who would inflict suffering or kill for the sake of religion; people who claim to know and understand God best, fighting amongst themselves over who or what is right or wrong, selectively citing ancient scripture to justify their grievous actions. In the end, all such people demonstrate is how the precepts of love and respect that underlie their own sacred texts have been subjugated to bitterness, hate and fear. Tragically and most objectionably, in the process they invoke God’s name to validate their wrongful actions, as if empowered to judge and punish in His stead.

Finally, just as we’re faced with increasingly complex decisions that will impact future generations, a growing number among us acknowledge nothing greater than themselves – and no relevant time frame beyond that of their own brief lives. Such shortsightedness is incompatible with the gravity of the issues we need to address. It shows clearly that we’re not only unprepared to make critical, far-reaching decisions, but incompetent to do so. That is, unless we first come to understand our responsibilities in life based on a less narrow view of ourselves, and recognize the importance of our individual roles in the stream of human existence.

In the discussions to follow, I will share my messages with you. As you listen, I ask that you envision yourself surrounded by all the children of the future. Feel their eyes on you. Understand that their hopes are vested in you. You have an important role to play – a role that might begin now simply by listening to a message that asks for your help in securing a better future for yourself and all those to come.

When you’ve listened to what I have to tell you, perhaps you too will become a messenger appealing to the hearts and minds of others through your own words and deeds. I hope that’s the case. If it is, you can be sure it was indeed God’s voice you’ve heard underlying my own. And you can be sure others will hear that same good voice inspiring yours as you carry the message forward.

Justin's Story

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Hello:

In my last posting I said I wanted to move on to talk more about the notion of reclaiming my Father’s house. However, something happened this morning that I would like to talk to you about. I found out that my friend Justin died and in deference to his passing, I'd like to tell his story.

About nine months ago, I became a volunteer at the local hospital and was assigned to the cancer ward. Given my penchant for writing, the program director thought it might be a good fit for me to visit patients to encourage and help them to write – perhaps a diary, letters, or just ramblings on life and their experiences at the hospital. As you might guess, almost all the people I came into contact with were dying. I could tell stories for days about the brave and sometimes tragic souls I met there but I want to concentrate on just one – a thirty-year-old man named Justin.

When I was first assigned to the floor I couldn’t help but notice a bald young man with a gaunt face and piercing blue eyes roaming the halls with his IV pole in tow. The nurses told me on the sly that he was their problem child. They described him as an abusive former drug addict who was difficult to deal with. I later found out that he had lymphoma and would most likely not survive more than six months to a year. When I asked whether I should pay him a visit, they suggested it probably was a bad idea - so I stayed away from him.

It was my habit when visiting the ward to begin by stopping at the nurses’ station to see who they thought might need a visit. Over time as they came to accept me, they would rattle off a list of rooms where the loneliest or neediest of the patients could be found. And to my surprise, one night Justin’s room appeared at the top of the list.

I’ll admit I was apprehensive when I first approached his door, not quite knowing what I would encounter on the other side. So I gently knocked and went in to find him lying in bed watching TV. I introduced myself and found him not only glad for the visit but grateful for the company. He didn’t seem at all what the nurses described. His need that night stemmed from some bad news he’d received earlier in the day. His doctor had told him there was nothing more that could be done and Justin was beginning to deal with the finality of his situation. We talked about that briefly before he invited me to go downstairs where he could smoke a cigarette. Outside, in a poignant exchange, he told me he didn’t want to die. I remember just letting him talk and being as sensitive and supportive of his feelings as I could. I had no answers for him and I wasn’t about to try convincing him that God surely knew of his plight and that regardless of the outcome all would be well. By that time, I had seen death, loneliness and despair enough to know that just listening is often enough. When it was time for me to leave, Justin invited me back to visit as often as I wanted. You see, he didn’t get visitors and time was passing very slowly in the small room where he spent most of his time.

As the weeks passed I came to learn a lot about him. He told me about his young daughter by a woman he had been seeing before he fell ill and a son he had by his former wife. He described his estranged relationship with his divorced mother and father, his bout with drug addiction, things he regretted doing, and the steady decline of his health. Most of all he told me how badly he wanted to spend what time he had left near his family – that is, his father and daughter, both of whom lived only one hundred miles away but rarely visited.

Without going into a lot of detail about Justin’s family and how there came to be so much tension between them, I will focus on his father. It turned out that Justin’s father, a deaf man of about fifty-five, was a non-denominational Christian minister in a small central Florida town where he lived with his second wife, Justin’s stepmother. (His father later told me his special gift was healing.) Justin loved his father and spoke constantly of how he wished he would allow him to move back into the house left by his recently deceased grandmother. It seems Justin lived there for a time but had set the carpet in his bedroom on fire when he fell asleep smoking a cigarette. At that point he was thrown out and not allowed to return. I will add that Justin was on heavy pain killers that made him very sluggish and sleepy at times so I wasn’t surprised by the incident. Having said that, I’d like you to know that later on Justin decided to have his pain medication decreased so that he could be alert and ambulatory more of the time. He accepted greater pain to gain a higher level of control over his life.

What surprised me was that Justin’s father continued in his firm position that he wouldn't take his son back despite the short time he had to live. This presented quite a dilemma since there wasn't a hospice or nursing facitlity near his home that would take him – and he didn’t want to be far from his family again. Eventually, the nurses informed me that since Justin's treatment would amount only to pain management, he would have to be moved out of the hospital as soon as a place could be found, which meant anyplace that would accept him regardless of location. I knew something had to be done to get him close to home.

After talking with Justin, I suggested that he arrange a meeting at the hospital with his parents, his doctor, the resident social worker, and the head nurse on his ward. The idea was to fully inform his father of the predicament Justin was in, the need to move him out of the hospital, and to reiterate his desire to go home for what time remained. Justin and the rest of the staff agreed to the plan and the date was set for a week later. Justin paid me a compliment by inviting me to attend so I can tell you firsthand what took place.

On the day of the meeting we made sure Justin’s room was spotless, his clothes laundered and Justin himself dressed in regular street clothes. It was our hope that he might leave with his father that very day. Justin, however, was very fearful that his father would refuse him. When the time for the meeting finally came, everyone gathered in a small family room on the ward and the dialogue began.

Justin’s doctor described the situation, his life expectancy and how his medication had been adjusted to give him more mental control. The nurses described how his behavior had improved dramatically and that in their opinion he could be trusted at home. The social worker related how difficult the search for a hospice or nursing home had been and that thus far she’d been unsuccessful in finding a place close to home. And finally Justin himself made a poignant plea to his father to let him return to his grandmother’s house for what time he had left, promising to smoke only outdoors. (It should be noted that Justin’s uncle also lived in the house so his stay there would not have been unsupervised.) Justin’s father “listened” attentively by reading lips and by having his wife repeat what he didn’t catch.

When Justin finished speaking there was a moment of uncomfortable silence as we waited to hear his father’s reaction. When it did come, we sat in amazement. His father said he would not allow Justin to return because of all his past misbehavior - there was simply too much water under the bridge. At that point I remarked that as a minister he surely knew about forgiveness. His wife nodded her head vigorously quoting Matthew in the exchange regarding Jesus’ instruction on forgiveness. “I say not unto thee until seven times, but until seventy times seven (shall you forgive).” She had made the point better than I ever could have and in language he clearly understood.

Justin’s father asserted he understood the scripture and then promptly switched gears. “He can't possibly move back to his grandmother’s house because we don’t have fire insurance and I can’t afford it. I’m trying to adopt more children and the money will be needed elsewhere.”

Not willing to let him off the hook so easily, I offered up the money to pay for the insurance while Justin lived in the house. After an argument regarding how he couldn’t possibly accept money from a stranger, he was silenced when I offered the money to Justin as a gift that he could then use to pay the insurance. His father glared at having been trumped yet again.

In frustration, his Father said he needed a few minutes to think and left the room with his wife. The rest of us sat bemused at how the meeting had taken such a bizarre turn. Five minutes later, Justin’s father returned.

“I’m going to ask God what to do and I'll let you know. In difficult times God always tells me what to do.” He sat back in his chair, content that there was no possible rebuttal.

It was then that I looked him in the eye and said in clearly formed words he couldn’t help but understand, “God IS telling you what to do. You simply won’t listen.” His wife bobbed her head up and down yet again in complete agreement. And in that moment I knew that surely God was telling him what he needed to do through this odd assemblage, his own son, and his wife’s bobbing head.

And miraculously, he relented. He agreed to return the following Monday to retrieve Justin, allowing himself time to get a bedroom prepared and to bring a larger vehicle to carry all of Justin’s belongings. The meeting broke up amid smiles, handshakes, and a collective sigh of relief.

As Monday approached Justin’s mood improved markedly. He was genuinely excited about returning home and rekindling his relationship with both his father and his young daughter whom he would be able to see regularly. On Sunday evening, however, his stepmother called to inform Justin that they wouldn’t be coming to get him after all. It seems their car had broken down and they didn’t want to use their other vehicle to make the drive. Justin was devastated. When I arrived at the hospital Monday afternoon for his going away cake (he had been there nine weeks by that time), the nurses immediately told me what had happened. I’m sad to say that having experienced callous behavior far more than I’d like to admit, I’m usually not as surprised as I am disappointed. This was yet another case.

Justin was very depressed when I went to his room. So, I told him to get his things ready, put on a smile for the party, and prepare to leave because I would drive him back home myself. And so he did, and four hours later we arrived at his grandmother’s house where his father and stepmother had hurriedly prepared his room after being informed that we were on our way. For Justin, this was a happy ending to a sad story and I felt gratified in having played a role in it.

It wasn’t long after Justin’s departure that I received the bill for the fire insurance – some $800 for a six month term. I paid it as promised and although it left a bad taste in my mouth that I had to pay his father to take him back, I was glad to be done with it. Then a week or two later I received a note from Justin’s father along with a prospectus for a software company started by someone he knew. In the note he recommended I consider buying into the company since it represented a great opportunity. He told me how he’d recently invested some $35,000 and was looking forward to large returns. Remember I said I wasn’t easily surprised – well this one accomplished the feat. It seems Justin’s father wasn’t short of cash at all – he was just short of compassion for his son.

In the absence of anything else, I would end this story here by asking you to draw your own conclusions or lessons from it. But this isn’t quite the end. During the time Justin and I spent together at the hospital, I developed a bond with him that allowed me to “hear” him from a distance. I knew when he was having a bad night and when he was depressed or agitated about something. This isn’t unusual for me. It’s a bit of the magic I rarely talk about that allows me to keep an eye on people I have “business” with, for lack of a better term. When Justin and I parted company I presumed this would be the end of our transaction. But that wasn’t to be.

Two weeks ago I began to sense him again, as I had during the time he was in the hospital. About a week ago the feeling intensified and I felt the need to contact him but I stopped myself from doing so for all the wrong reasons.

This morning, while visiting the hospital, I learned from a nurse that Justin died a week ago. I didn’t call him when I felt the need because I didn’t want to be asked for another $800 to pay for fire insurance. I subordinated my concern for Justin to my distaste for his father and to paying a bit of money on Justin’s behalf. In the beginning, his father wouldn’t pay $800 for insurance that would enable his son to come home, and in the end, I wouldn’t risk paying another $800 to check on Justin’s condition.

I'm not sure whether Justin was calling to me at the end of his life or whether I was just sensing his condition. It doesn’t matter either way. I just know that in a strange way I may have failed him on the home stretch - something I will not allow to happen with anyone else.

As I talk about all this, I am picturing Justin’s father in his pulpit delivering a service in honor of his dead son. I’m sure he speaks nothing but good about him, about how he loved him, and about how he’s happy they reconnected at the end of his life. God works in strange ways. I want to believe that in the end both Justin and his father got something they dearly needed.

I'll remember Justin for the rest of my life. If nothing else of him survives, perhaps this short story will for a time. There was much more to him than I could ever describe. Yes, he was weak and self-indulgent; he made a lot of mistakes; but he loved. I’m glad he got to go home for a short time before he died. And now that he’s gone, I’m glad he’s back with a Father that really does want him home.

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The Episcopal Priest

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Hello Again:

I may have mentioned in a prior posting that I live in southwest Florida on the Gulf of Mexico. (By the way, I love meeting people so If you live in the area or are planning to visit please don’t hesitate to drop me a line.) Since I’m only a block or so from the beach, I often go walking there to clear my head or just to think. The water has a calming effect that drowns out the noise that usually intrudes in my life. Anyhow, I took advantage of the good weather today and did a three-mile walk during which I gave considerable thought to what would ultimately become this posting. That’s when I decided I’d share one last story about my encounters with the clergy and then move on to what I’m really getting at. So here goes my story about Reverend Beth, the Episcopal priest.

I met Beth one summer at a writing class and for some reason we bonded almost immediately. She's a sixty-something year old woman with a husband and two sons. I’ll add that she’s one of those people that exude conservative style and breeding. As was the case with Pastor Dan’s ministry, I had no idea when we first met that she was a priest at the largest Episcopal cathedral in the city. Having practiced for many years, she had by that time reached a stage in life where she wanted to do less in terms of church service and more in terms of outreach via her writing. In particular, she wanted to write a book about Mary Magdalene since her interests were centered in both the historical, current and future roles of women in the church.

It turned out that Beth was an activist of sorts within her clerical community. Several years before she had founded a women’s organization that provides services for homeless women and unwed mothers as well as spiritual outreach with an eye toward women’s empowerment both within and outside the church. Over the years, however, it seems that Beth had slowed down and withdrawn somewhat from those activities. Since its founding, the group had grown dramatically and she had turned over leadership to other women. As for her position within the church itself, she seemed disillusioned and noticeably bitter about the treatment of women priests in what was clearly a male dominated organization, at least in that particular Texas city. I’m convinced that her distaste for the church hierarchy had much to do with her decision to turn her talents to writing rather than church ministry. At least she'd finally be able to voice herself in ways impossible within the church itself.

Beth seemed to struggle with the frustration she was feeling given her perceived treatment at the church - and her inability to write a coherent composition. It was always a source of wonder for me that such an intelligent and educated woman could stand before a congregation and deliver a great sermon, yet be completely incapable of penning a readable paragraph. She sought help with the problem in the writing class and, at times, by using me as a source of critical advice during those rare occasions when she was willing to share samples of her work.

At the time, The Book of Context was just in the process of being published and as usual, I saw the opportunity to present my story to yet another member of the clergy. Over coffee one day (as you can tell I like meeting over coffee), I laid out the rough outline of my story without going into a lot of detail just to see how she would react. I'm happy to say she didn’t react as poorly as the Catholic priest and Pastor Dan, but then again she didn’t seem to get what I was talking about either. I don’t know if that was because I wasn’t explaining things well, or that her mind couldn’t accept revelation at such close range. After that I really didn’t talk about my own experiences that much, choosing instead to draw her out about her own.

I eventually came to realize that Beth was a very frustrated woman. Her greatest and most lasting ministerial accomplishment was probably the establishment of the women’s group I mentioned before and I found it fascinating that she had withdrawn from active leadership. But, there was some very good news in her professional life. She had received an offer from a Christian publisher to write a book on a specific topic related to women in the ministry. She was very excited, though somewhat confused by the process and the possibility that writing a book on dictated subject matter would cramp her freedom of expression. So, over the next few months I worked with her to find an agent, which I thought would be a good idea since she hoped to write several more books, and she finally nailed down a contract with the publisher.

By that time, my own effort, The Book of Context, had only just been released and I was anxious to get first-hand experience with people’s reaction to it. As I considered where I might be able to get such experience, Beth’s women’s group came to mind. So I approached her with an offer to provide each member of the group with a free copy of the book, and then to hold a discussion session to talk about its message. Beth was agreeable to taking the proposal to the group’s leadership, something I appreciated very much.

Two weeks later we met for coffee again. “So what did the group think of my proposal to provide free books and hold a discussion?” I asked.

“Well, they won’t do it. They say your use of masculine imagery and pronouns related to God is offensive,” she replied.

Yet again I was dumbstruck. The Book of Context does describe my experiences with my “Father” and I do use masculine pronouns in reference to Him. However, I go to great lengths to explain the use of this gender specific imagery.

Here’s a quote from the Introduction:

“If you read this text with an open heart you will surely hear something infinitely loving speaking in plain voice. Whether you believe in a higher power or not, or view God in the singular or plural, as an amorphous consciousness, as man, woman or other form, is unimportant. The gender-specific words used in this book simply relate to how that voice comes to me, and nothing more. It comes as the Father, and so I refer to it respectfully in those terms. In doing so, I recognize that such references are metaphors that appeal to my personal vision of God – one that may differ considerably from your own.”

I reiterated this to Beth but she said it was no use. They simply would not tolerate the masculine imagery regarding God.

I thought for a moment then asked another question.

“They do realize Jesus was a man right? As Christians I presume that must be causing them a great deal of agitation.”

Beth didn’t have much to say about that. The bottom line is that I never did get to either give them the books I offered, nor did I get to speak to them. Beth and I remained friends, of course, but I pursued the idea no further.

It’s funny how people get hung up on the most insignificant things regarding God – and, I’m sure, things about others around them whether friends, family or just people they encounter. There’s always some issue or excuse for separation or exclusion. In this case it was gender-based imagery even where specifically described as personal and inconsequential to the message itself. It seems people have a hard time seeing beyond the superficial whether it be skin color, regional accent, religious affiliation, gender, or a choice of pronouns.

In this case, a group of women united in their sense of Christian values and in reaction to what they feel is a need for women’s empowerment exhibit exactly the same behavior they abhor. Only this time it has to do with a message from something metaphorically described as the “Father.” For the sake of a word, the message is rejected.

Spiritual blindness is a terrible illness. Although rampant among the clergy and laypeople alike, it goes undetected by the afflicted and travels contagiously. It ultimately diminishes both those infected and those who go ignored, excluded, or rejected as a result of such blindness. Worse yet, it can be a debilitating disease that obscures good news and ideas that can make a positive difference in both the individual and the community at large. Now I’m not saying that The Book of Context would have changed the lives of the women in that group. I’m just saying neither they nor I will ever know because of their bias and flat refusal to even consider it. And I find myself wondering how much else they’ve excluded as a result of their strong aversion to gender references.

Just to be perfectly clear, this posting isn’t about women, it’s about blindness and exclusion – even among those who are united in their opposition to exactly those conditions. It’s a continuation of a lengthy story about spiritual bankruptcy among many of the clergy and those who silently and perhaps ignorantly follow them. Most of all, it’s a plea for what my Father calls for – ­the reclamation of His house. I think you realize this house isn’t a church, synagogue, temple or mosque – it’s each and every one of us. Where we come together is nothing more than a reflection of what we collectively are. Do you wonder, therefore, why our places of worship – and the people who lead them – have become reflections of our own shortcomings rather than our greatest hopes and desires?

The day needs to come when the people who lead us, those we look up to, indeed each of us, become, in word, thought and deed, shining examples of all we wish to find in others – and all we aspire to be. And this is where I really want to go in future postings so I guess I’ve accomplished a transition with Beth and her Episcopal women’s group.

In the next posting, I’ll pick up with the notion of “reclaiming the house.” I hope you’ll stay with me as I begin to describe the importance of my Father’s primary message. Most of all I hope you’ll make this a dialog by sharing your own experiences and ideas.

And don’t forget, if you get to Southwest Florida, you be sure to let me know. We’ll have coffee.


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The Lutheran Minister - Part II

Hello:

This is the second part of my story about Pastor Dan, the Lutheran minister.

As I noted in the first part of this story, I had not mentioned anything regarding the mystical experiences I was having as later articulated in The Book of Context. One morning however, I awoke very distraught, feeling that if I didn’t begin to talk about the thoughts consuming me I would surely explode. At that point while I hadn’t spoken with Dan in some time he was the only one that came immediately to mind. So, I quickly showered and dressed, and without calling in advance drove the short distance to Dan’s church. I really didn’t expect him to be available but felt compelled to try to see him anyway.

After arriving, I was relieved to find out that Dan was indeed there. He came to the reception area and could tell something was wrong. I apologized for showing up unannounced and asked if he could spend some time with me. He graciously agreed and led me into his office. As this was the first time I would discuss my thoughts, I was very uneasy. I began by telling him that my story would seem strange but that I hoped he would listen with an open mind. And so I told him of the sequence of events leading up to my visit with him and the thoughts that had begun to flood my mind. Most of all, I told him about the one who came to me as my Father and the good things he had taught and shown me. I described His overwhelming presence and my clear instruction to acknowledge no other as my father. I told him of the first and most powerful message I had received – a son comes to reclaim his father’s house. And somewhere along the line I began to cry as all the emotion of the experiences resurfaced.

Dan remained stone-faced as I spoke. I’m sure he didn’t know quite what to make of this familiar man who had unexpectedly shown up in a very unfamiliar guise. Dan asked very few questions as I spoke and when I finished told me that this wasn’t the first time he’d been approached by someone who thought he was having mystical experiences. He mentioned one particular member of his congregation who had come to him with a somewhat different story but with similar emotional content. (I later discovered that the individual he referred to was the same president of the congregation I had spoken with during my first visit to Dan's church.)

During our session Dan did what any good pastor would do – he listened patiently to what I had to tell him. Given the subject matter, however, there was little he could say. It was clear that in such cases a man of God, or anyone for that matter, is put in the position of weighing the possibilities of true revelation, insanity, or both. Dan didn’t know me very well so I would guess he leaned heavily toward insanity. While it was a tremendous relief to have finally spoken openly of my Father and His messages, it was also my first taste of polite skepticism, something that found a new level in my later encounter with a Catholic priest as described in a previous posting.

When it was all said and done, Dan did do something interesting. He asked me one memorable question. “Why would God choose you to deliver (His) message?”

In some regards I found the question worse than the polite skepticism. And so I replied simply that he should not judge the quality of the wine by the clay of the jar in which it’s delivered. Dan smiled and seemed a little surprised at my choice of words. “You even respond in biblical terms,” he retorted. I didn’t mean to but I suppose I had, and in retrospect I’m glad because this was one message he did get. In response to a question he shouldn’t have asked, I gave him an answer he already should have known.

In the end, Dan had little to say. Before leaving, however, I asked if he could connect me with other clergy with whom I might share my messages. I told him it had become a burning desire to speak openly of what I had been given to know. Little did I realize at the time that my inclination to speak to clergy would constitute events akin to a high-speed collision with a stone wall. Dan promised he would speak of me to others he knew. To my knowledge he never did and, in his defense, I’m not sure that in his shoes I would have either.

After that, I saw Dan from time to time at the café where we first met but we never spoke of our meeting. Actually, Dan and I didn’t really talk about much of anything at all after that. I waited for him to say something – anything – related to our meeting but he never did. As with other clergy I’ve spoken with since, once my cat is out of the bag they tend to head in the other direction. It’s fascinating that I don’t have the same problem with lay people.

Later, as fate would have it, I found myself compelled to invite Dan to what would be our last meeting. Having torn down the barrier to speaking openly about my Father and His messages, I actively began to seek other venues to share what I knew. That’s when the idea of holding an open discussion at Dan’s church came to mind. The church had an active adult program that included exposure to other schools of religious thought so I believed it might be of interest to hold a discussion about mystical experience and the messages that emerge from them. After all, the president of the congregation himself had been having such experiences.

We decided to meet at the café and after getting our drinks sat down on a sofa where I laid out my proposal. I described how mysticism had always played a major role in all religions and that many people have mystical experiences they are reluctant to discuss openly. I reminded him that my own messages were fundamentally and unassailably good and that my vision of God was highly compatible with basic Christian thought. Finally, I asked that he consider an open session at his church to discuss such matters and to provide an outlet for others as well.

Dan’s response came as somewhat of a surprise - a flat no. For a moment I said nothing, then asked why not. He asserted that what I suggested was an inappropriate topic for the church despite their penchant for exploring other faith systems. As we debated the matter he began to grow impatient and angry. It quickly became apparent that he not only objected to the subject matter but to me. Things came to a head when I asked why he was unwilling to discuss what might potentially represent something new that God wanted others to hear.

His response was simple, angry, and to the point. “We don’t need anything new.”

He had summed up the greatest obstacle in carrying any message to those who don’t understand that there is always a need. Such people, unfortunately, either can’t or won’t hear God’s voice over the clamor of their own - and God always has something to say. Through history it has always been the voice of revelation that has inspired and changed things. While I rarely quote scripture from any source, there is a wonderful passage in the Quran that I think is appropriate here. If all the trees on earth were cut into pens and the ocean turned to ink, yet would God’s words remain unexhausted in the writing.

The significance of Dan’s remark rested not in his unwillingness to provide me with a platform from which I might share my experiences with others but the solid resistance he offered to anything God might have to say through others. Indeed as a Christian, I think Dan would be faced with a serious dilemma if Jesus were to return with a desire to say something. Dan wasn’t amused when I made that point just before we left the cafe.

The fact is, it’s highly unlikely anyone would know explicitly who God’s messengers are. But the advent of such messengers is something people, including the clergy, need to be open to. God never sends what’s expected so we should always be on the lookout for the stranger, the uninvited guest. Who knows, you might be one yourself – if not now, then maybe at some future time.

My Father spoke to me about reclaiming His house. I am coming to understand that this is a behemoth undertaking. It will take the efforts of a thousand voices and an even greater number of open hearts and minds. I hope Dan finds a way to become an open heart and mind, if not a voice. I hope you can do the same - if you haven't already.



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The Lutheran Minister - Part I

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Hello Everyone:

I’ll continue with my experiences with the clergy by telling you about a minister I came to know.

I met Pastor Dan at a café I used to visit regularly. I noticed that he was often there when I was and inevitably the day came when we found ourselves seated next to one another. I had no idea that he was not only a minister but senior pastor at the Lutheran church just blocks from where I lived.

As time went on, Dan and I began to chat at the café regularly. While I never considered him more than an acquaintance, I found our conversations a pleasant diversion. I will add that I never brought up the ideas that had taken root in my mind regarding God and what would ultimately become The Book of Context. When conversation did touch on God or religion however, I found it curious that Dan usually retreated from the subject. At the same time, after mentioning that I didn’t frequent any particular church, he invited me to attend a service at his own. I got the feeling religion was something he left at the office. It wasn’t clear if that included God as well.

One Sunday morning I finally did go to Dan’s church. I’d never attended a Lutheran service so I considered my visit an adventure during which I might learn more about Lutherans - and Pastor Dan. At the church I found everyone very kind and welcoming of visitors. After seating myself in a pew at the rear, I caught sight of Dan at the altar dressed in his ornate cassock and looking very different from the man I knew at the cafe.

As I waited for the service to begin I found myself expecting more people to walk in but when the organ started to play more than half the pews were still empty. Following the lead of others, I stood, recited passages printed on a program, and then repeated the process as required by ritual. All the while I observed the congregation.

It became immediately obvious that they were, for the most part, older – few younger families and even fewer teenagers attended. The second thing I noticed was the absence of enthusiasm. A sense of weekly duty permeated the congregation. Words were read, songs were sung sluggishly, and scripture was mechanically recited, as it must have been a thousand times before. And when it came time for Pastor Dan to deliver his sermon he did so with the same flat quality that characterized the rest of the service. If God was present in that place, few seemed to recognize it – and if they did they hid it well. This unfortunately included Dan.

After something less than forty-five minutes, the service ended and I made my way toward the door where Dan was shaking hands and thanking people for attending. When it came my turn, I shook his hand and politely told him how much I enjoyed coming. In return he invited me to stop by the fellowship hall for coffee and pastry on the way out. Curious to learn more I agreed to do so and followed the crowd toward the hall.

Coffee in hand, I stood watching the group as they mingled and then sorted themselves into tables of four or five. Seeing me, Dan walked over and asked what I thought of the service. Again I was very polite and told him I was glad I had come, that I thought he delivered his sermon well, and that he was fortunate to have such a fine congregation.

Then I asked the question that was burning inside me. “Dan, why was the church more than half empty – and where are all the young people?”

Dan looked at me for a moment as he prepared to answer a question I’m sure he had asked himself many times. “Oh, this is just our 9 AM service. There are a lot more people at 11.”

I would have been satisfied in his answer had I not been approached by the president of his congregation not ten minutes later. After introducing himself and welcoming me to the church, he also asked what I thought of the service. Since Dan had by that time walked away, I felt free to pose the same question.

“Where are all the people – especially the younger ones?”

This time I got a completely different response.

“Well, that’s a problem we’re working on,” he replied in a serious tone.

He went on to tell me they recognized an increasing problem with attendance and had experimented with different service times including more convenient Saturday afternoon schedules, changing the music, offering food and drink afterward, and adding an informal service for teens that allowed them to sit on floor cushions. Interestingly his view of things was distinctly different from Dan’s.

I found it curious that neither mentioned the possibility that the church was simply not communicating effectively with the congregation – that it was not delivering its message. I can certainly understand why Dan wouldn’t bring that up. Whether the thought was running through the president’s mind is unknown. It was clear that the church had lost touch with the congregation’s spirit and failed to inspire. From an outsider’s point of view, it seemed obvious that people were no longer coming to hear or learn about God’s message, but simply to fulfill a duty, see friends, or enjoy coffee and pastry. This lack of enthusiasm was not entirely their fault since God’s message was being transmitted half-heartedly at best, no attempt was being made to awaken the spirit, and therefore little inspiration was to be found there. And, for those who might come seeking inspiration, only disappointment awaited and they probably wouldn’t return.

As I left the church, I considered my Father’s earliest message to me – a son comes to reclaim his Father’s house. This wasn’t the first time I had encountered an empty place of worship – devoid of enthusiasm and empty of spirit. This was simply the first time I recognized the problem and found that it left me unsettled.

In my brief meetings with Dan at the café and by having attended a service at his church, I came to learn a lot about him – and a lot about my own yearnings to be active in the reclamation of my Father’s house. But there is much more to this story, which will be continued in the next posting.

In the meantime, I’m curious to know of your own experiences and whether your place of worship needs to be reclaimed as well.

Until the next time then.



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The Catholic Priest

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Hello Everyone:

As you can tell by now, I like telling stories so I hope you’ll indulge me. In the next two posts I want to tell you the stories of two clergymen with whom I had met – and from whom learned a great deal in the least expected ways. The first deals with a Catholic priest.

Several years ago, during what was a very turbulent period for me, I felt compelled to seek out a Catholic priest even though I subscribe to no particular religion. My primary reason for doing this seemed clear at the time – my Father wanted me to request something of him. After searching high and low, I finally found the priest I was looking for – an old man who also happened to be a canon lawyer. He could not have been a better choice I thought given what I would ask of him. How unlikely that this should be the priest I happened upon. So, after a somewhat brief and cryptic explanation of why I wished to speak with him, the priest agreed and invited me to the rectory.

On the day we met, he led me into a quiet sitting room, invited me to be seated, and after shutting the door for privacy asked me to share in more detail what I wished to discuss. Somewhat uncomfortable in the role I was only beginning to play, I carefully told him the story of my mystical evolution, if you will, in preparation for what I would ultimately request of him. I told him of my Father and what I knew of Him, of His good messages, and of a new sense of being that was beginning to overtake me. In describing some of the changes occurring within me, I mentioned a growing acceptance of extra senses and abilities, some of which I had long known were present but had ignored and some I was just beginning to discover. It was then that the priest suddenly grew very interested - more so in this than anything else I had told him. After indulging him with a few stories about these senses and abilities, the priest did something that came as no particular surprise - he asked if I could perform some act to convince him that what I was saying was true.

Looking him squarely in the eyes and without the slightest hesitation I said yes. I had no doubt I could accommodate his request so I invited him to choose a test. He knew I was absolutely serious. But just as he was about to do so he retreated, averted his eyes, and told me that he would not. I prompted him yet again and he declined even more emphatically. We both understood why he would not test me and neither of us said any more about it.

By the time I finally got to make the request I had originally come for, he had already slipped into a pool of doubt and aversion to me. His response was curt and to the point – if your Father wishes that what you ask come to pass then surely He will see to it, with or without my assistance. Therefore I will leave Him to it.” It was obvious the priest was angry. I think he’d come to realize that I was not the one being tested but he – and he didn’t like it.

Disheartened by his response I felt there was little more to say. I had failed in my mission or so it seemed. As I left the residence, however, something odd happened. Across the street from the rectory was a small chapel with a shining gold dome I had seen a hundred times. Now though, it literally demanded my attention. And during the moment I gazed at it, my Father gave me an instruction - to return to the priest and tell him that the dome would be turned from gold to blue within days. I resisted and did not obey. I considered what I had been told too unlikely – too impossible. I doubted my Father.

Three days later as I happened to be passing by the chapel, I was shocked. The shining gold dome had been covered with blue canvas to protect it from maintenance work. I was dumbstruck. I had missed a “golden” opportunity to convince the priest. I had missed my chance to have him agree to my request because I had doubted. I had failed in more ways than one.

For the following two months I continued to contact the priest but he ignored my messages. Then just as I was about to give up, I felt compelled to contact him one last time to ask for another meeting. I intended to make a final attempt to convince him to do what I had been sent to ask. Surprisingly he responded almost immediately and invited me for another visit.

This time I would be ready. Knowing the priest would surely still doubt me, I asked my Father for something with which I could convince him - something as magical and compelling as the gold dome. And so I found three things to tell the priest which I could not have known. Indeed it was barely a few moments after arriving for the meeting that I announced that I had something special to tell him if he was interested. I was determined not to let the opportunity pass as it had the last time. But, to my surprise he said nothing. We talked for a while and once again I made the request I’d been sent to make. And yet again he refused reminding me that if my Father truly wanted such a thing to happen it would come to pass.

Disappointed, I rose to leave when the priest stopped me. "What did you have to tell me?" he asked. As expected he was still fascinated by a demonstration of magic. He had retreated before from putting me to the test but this time I had placed what he sought before him. He was now free to accept an offer rather than impose a test. So, I sat down again and unfolded what I had brought him. And with each of the three things I described he lunged into details for he recognized every single one.

When we finished I looked at him for a moment and then spoke. "I've provided the proof you wanted in our first meeting. I've told you not one but three things I could not know. Can you now lay aside your doubt, accept what I have come to say, and help with what I ask?"

He thought for a moment and then responded haughtily, "How do I know what you are is not of the devil? How do I know that doing what you ask is not of some evil purpose?" It was no longer a question of belief, but belief in what.

In a way I was young then and in my naiveté expected that given proof the priest would surely hear me, believe, and assist in what I asked. It turned out that while I had succeeded in convincing him the magic was real - he still couldn't hear the good message I carried. In retrospect I know that my true mission there was not to secure the priest’s assistance but to confront not only the endless doubt of others - but my own. I doubted when I did not tell the priest the golden dome would be turned to blue. When the event occurred I regretted that I had missed an opportunity to provide proof so unlikely that the priest would surely relent. So, not willing to give up I returned to the priest and provided different proof to allay his doubts. In doing so I found that despite all the good words I had spoken, what I thought was proof became fuel for even more doubt. The priest couldn't accept that the wonder he claims to believe in not only exists, but can come calling when least expected. He couldn't see what was in front of him.

In the end, the lesson is clear - no amount of proof is sufficient, and no amount of proof should be offered. Those who most loudly proclaim the existence of wondrous things are often the first to doubt and disclaim them. Thus, I have come to simply and quietly do both what I am directed to do – and what I plainly see needs to be done. Along the path I follow, some of those I encounter may recognize something unusual when I call. It's not required that they do. What’s important is that those in need freely accept what I have to offer, and that those who can hear what my Father would have me say do so and carry it forward in their minds, hearts and actions. Good messages rely on no magic. They stand on their own, as they surely must. Magic is unreliable; it is a diversion; it is for those who cannot hear. And, those who would test, are ultimately the tested.


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The Dancer

Hello!

I’d like to share the story of an encounter I had at a homeless shelter where I do volunteer work. It’s funny that when I mention this work people here look surprised – not because I do volunteer work, but that there’s a homeless shelter in the community. At first I found this lack of awareness shocking but then I remembered that South Florida is one of the most affluent areas of the country. Just for the record, I don’t count myself among the wealthy. I just happen to live here.

When I get that reaction my standard reply is “Well of course there are homeless people here. They’re everywhere. You mean to tell me you haven’t seen any?” Something tells me that unless they encounter someone holding a “will work for food” sign or are asked for change on the street they probably wouldn’t take notice at all. In any event, they would not look beyond the shabby exterior to anything that might lie beyond.

As a volunteer caseworker my job is to help residents get back on their feet. Recently I came across one very remarkable man named Michael that I’d like to tell you a little about.

Michael is in his mid-thirties and is both physically and mentally handicapped as the result of a terrible automobile accident that occurred 15 years ago. He’d been drinking heavily, chose to drive, and the resulting collision was entirely his fault. It was a single-vehicle accident and he was the only person injured. I’ll add that Michael is also fighting an addiction to narcotics and suffers from AIDS. Despite the years of hard use written on his face, however, he comes across as a man that must have been very handsome at one time.

During a recent interview, Michael seemed to be particularly introspective so I invited him to tell me what was on his mind – something he proceeded to do without hesitation. It turned out that he’d been thinking a lot about how different he and his life were before the accident. I remarked that they were surely different given that he was only 21 when the accident occurred. That was a long time ago I reminded him. But that wasn’t really what he was talking about.

He continued by telling me that back then he existed in a state of what he called, “perfection.” You see it turns out that Michael was an aspiring ballet dancer just beginning his career when the accident occurred. At the age of 16 he had even won a full scholarship to attend ballet school so he was quite promising. He glowed when he described how physically beautiful and desired he had been, and then sank when he returned to his present state of affairs. I let him continue along this sullen track for a bit then interrupted him.

“Tell me Michael, isn’t there anything good in your life right now?”

He brightened immediately with an emphatic “yes!”

I have to admit I was surprised. “Well what is it?” I asked.

“My job. I love my job.”

I knew that Michael had been working for a discount furniture company not far from the shelter but couldn’t imagine what aspect of his work warranted so enthusiastic a reply. Michael’s job was simply this – to stand day after day at an intersection wearing a sign that touted the store’s low prices. That’s it, or so it seemed.

“Why do you love that job Michael?’ I asked somewhat bemused.

“Because when I stand on the corner with my sign I dance for the people that pass by,” he replied. He beamed as he spoke. “They watch and they wave and they love me. I can’t dance for an audience of a thousand but I can still entertain a thousand one person at a time.”

His remark left me dumbstruck for a moment. It seems that Michael had found his way back on-stage in the unlikeliest of places. As he spoke I envisioned him dancing on the corner and the places he must go in his mind as he does. And I thought about how he finds joy where he can – working with what he has.

Most of all I wondered about perfection. It occurred to me that we don’t really understand perfection at all – at least we don’t know where to look for it. Michael certainly didn’t. If he did, I think he’d realize how much closer to it he’s come since the accident. And I think perhaps he wouldn’t mire in recollections of what he was, but take heart in what he is.

This Sunday I’m going to spend the morning with Michael. I’ll pick him up and take him to a church service. Then we’ll have breakfast and scout the area for an apartment complex he might move into when he finally leaves the shelter. People we encounter will probably notice Michael’s handicap and not much more. But when I look at Michael I’ll see something else. I’ll see the dancer, smiling and waving at his audience, one person at a time, each performance absolutely perfect.

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Jane's Depression

Hello Everyone:

Today is Sunday, the 6thof January, and I’m not feeling particularly well because I’ve caught a virus that has been making its way through my community. I am sluggish and every part of me aches at the moment. I haven’t been ill in quite some time so while the symptoms are relatively mild in the great scheme of things, they are intensified in my mind simply because I'm not used to feeling this way.

Since I don’t believe in coincidence for the most part, it comes as no surprise that a situation related to pain developed with a close friend of mine that I think might interest you. Jane is a woman in her sixties who lives a good life in retirement with her husband. She is a worldly woman who has written professionally for both newspapers and corporations. She is well-traveled, does volunteer work with both the aged and the very young, and loves to write long and elegant letters describing her garden, birds and the things she discovers to be wonderful in her life.

Unfortunately, Jane has suffered from bouts of severe depression for years. She regulates her condition with drugs and when they work she’s fine, but when they don’t she slips precipitously into a dark abyss (her own words) that’s very difficult to climb out of. She began having problems again just before the holidays and while she seemed to be getting better, I received a letter yesterday indicating that she’s slipping badly yet again. What I want to share with you is that in the letter she snapped that I probably didn’t understand what depression really was so couldn’t appreciate her plight.

When we feel pain, whether emotional or physical, we can never adequately communicate the depth and nature of it to others. That’s the nature of pain. It’s a special sort of “gift” that is personal; something that really cannot be shared. While I don’t believe that misery loves company or that recognizing that there are others suffering more than you makes you feel any better, I decided to share a story with Jane that I hoped might impart a message.

Several years ago I developed, without warning, a degenerative nerve condition of the ears. As a result, I hear a relentless high-pitched whine that will most likely get worse over time. There is no treatment. When the condition first occurred I found myself trapped in a sea of sound that was coming from inside me. No one else could hear it. It could be described but not felt by others. And so I slipped in to a quagmire from which I thought there would be no escape. I feared that I wouldn’t be able to withstand it. I was alone and afraid. The sound was mine and mine alone. Surely no one could understand what I was feeling.

In my time of greatest need, while I was tempted to ask God why such a thing had befallen me, I did not. I can say I never blamed God, myself, or anyone else for my situation - for this unwelcome change that came to color everything I felt and did. In the end I overcame it by accepting the sound as a new part of me that I had to learn to live with. I got on with a productive life despite its presence. I will add that it has gotten worse over time and in more sullen moments a pool of fear sometimes looms before me, inviting me in for a swim. I simply resist. I will not succumb to fear of what the future might hold. I’ll deal with it when I get there. And despite not being able to share what I feel with any other human, I am able to share it with God and I’m content in knowing (He) understands what I feel in ways others cannot.

Jane had no idea that I might understand how she was feeling. She had no idea that someone she knows and loves was suffering too. Such is the case with all of us. We each suffer in ways often invisible to others, as do others we know. In the end, the message I had for her was simply this. I hear the sound that would drown me, but I don’t listen to it. That’s how I survive – that’s how I remain productive. I do things that help me not listen to the sound. I help myself to the fullest extent possible because no one else can. It’s up to me to make my life better.

Now, this story isn’t meant to be about me but about all of you who suffer and think you’re alone and perhaps beyond help. You really aren’t. It’s also about accepting pain, whether physical or emotional, and not treating it as a complete stranger that has no place in your life. It does have a place for many and it’s often inevitable. That, of course, doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take reasonable steps to eliminate pain. But if, like Jane and me, the condition becomes so much a part of your existence, accept it, hear it if you have no choice, but absolutely, positively don’t listen to it. Its voice will only tear you down and you mustn't let that happen.

Finally, know that you aren’t helpless and you aren’t alone. There is much you can do for yourself – simple things that make you feel better and help you not listen to pain’s voice. Know there are many others that endure what you suffer. And rest assured that God surely knows what you feel even as you can’t adequately relate it to others. You are never alone – never.

Having said all that, I think I'll post this letter and then return home for a rest. I know this virus won’t last forever and that I’ll feel better soon. In the meantime, I think I'll watch a movie that I know I’ll enjoy, and drift off for a nap. I know those simple things will make me feel better.

In the meantime I hope you have a wonderful day!


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Getting Started

Dear Friends:

As of the date of this writing, The Book of Context has been in print for about one year. It was initially provided to potential readers in two formats. The first came in the form of a book that was made available through the Amazon and Borders websites, as well as in bookstores and other web locations. It was also made available for reading and download at BookofContext.com, a website set up specifically to make the text available at no cost to everyone with web access. As the new year begins, I’m gratified to report that 7,000 copies are in circulation and that over 90,000 people have now visited BookofContext.com. I can only assume that many do indeed hear the book’s message.

During this time I have often lamented that I do not have access to people in venues where I might speak with them directly and try to answer their many questions. This is a situation I hope to rectify somewhat through these letters. As I reflected on what might lay ahead in 2006, I realized that the individuals I wanted to reach were already coming to my door through BookofContext.com. As you are surely one of them, I apologize for not taking the opportunity earlier to speak with you and your fellow visitors. While I’m not physically with you, I’ll try to converse as I would with a dear and welcome friend - and I hope you will receive me in that light.

Since writing the book, I have specifically avoided interpreting and reinterpreting the text, as that isn’t my purpose. Interpretation is best left to you - you will find in it according to your need. Indeed, each person that reads The Book of Context will find something different in it - and that’s the way it should be. I’m thankful that for many of you the book carries a loud and clear message that can be a catalyst for change – for you and for others you know or may come to know.

I’ve heard it said that the book smacks heavily of Christian, Jewish, Islamic and other religious values. For avid Christians it may seem a restatement of the fundamental teachings of Jesus. For Jewish and Islamic people, the basic principles of the Torah and the Koran can be found as well. For Buddhists, Hindus and others, there is much common ground. This shouldn’t come as a surprise. The Book of Context speaks simply and plainly to what is right and good. But in doing so, it makes no attempt to specifically define a higher power other than by describing a path that a good and righteous God would surely represent. It doesn’t place God in a golden box as something to be visited and admired only occasionally, nor does it require you to restrict your own faith and spirit to so contained a space. Similarly it doesn’t ask you to leave your faith-based customs and traditions behind, but to illuminate them with a fresh light that might help you really appreciate them.

The God that inspired me to share The Book of Context is open and accessible to all. This God has neither name nor face but is called by many good names and can be seen in the faces of everyone you meet. (He) makes no demands and promises no rewards. (He) simply asks that you look around you and understand your connection with all you see, especially your fellow men and women. This is a simple God who can be felt and understood by an infant, a deaf and blind person – and by you – simply through kindness or the gentle touch of another person. There are no barriers to connecting with this God, no measure of worthiness, and no rites of passage other than living up to your responsibilities in life – especially toward others.

So a logical question is “what’s new?” That is, what does The Book of Context bring to the table that hasn’t been presented before? The answer is simple - nothing – at least in terms of altruistic ideas that haven't been around for millennia without having really taken root. The continuation of war, killing, hunger, untreated sickness and loneliness all bear testament to this unhappy fact. As for such good ideas, it asks simply that you hear them again as if for the first time. It asks that you hear them as more than words but as a formula for victory in the war against indifference and neglect of those in need. (I will speak more about this war in a later posting.) What’s new is that, as the book’s title suggests, there's a clear context for your life in light of a connection with all things. You are the product of all that came before and are the foundation for all that follows. It demands that you acknowledge how important you are – and that you accept responsibility for yourself, others and future generations. That’s what your life is about, that’s all that matters, that’s all you really have to contribute of any lasting value. Simply put – you have work to do. We all do. And we need to get about it.

How God fits into this is entirely up to you. As I said, the God I speak of makes no demands of you regarding (Himself) but only as regards your fellow men and women. What matters is the work – not whether you acknowledge that such work puts you squarely on God’s path, or that you overtly pay homage, worship, or even thank (Him). This is not about God - this is about you, and all people. In serving each other's needs to the best of our ability, in looking to better the future for those yet to come, we pay homage to God whether we admit it or not. In doing for others we fulfill the highest purpose possible. It doesn’t get any better than that. Are you up to the challenge?

There’s a lot I have to talk about so I hope you'll welcome me on a regular basis. Please share your comments and ask any questions you care to. This is meant to be a dialog.

Thanks for spending a little time with me. I hope you'll be back.