On Friday, I mentioned my colleague who provided support and compassion. I am amazingly grateful for her presence. Other people also offered moments of support. When I first announced my depression, there were numerous notes and comments sent to encourage me. The expressions of love and support were a tremendous source of strength. A few friends offered to assist with, “anything you need.” While such words can be empty, these were not. They were an open invitation for me to reach out for anything.

I received a number of emails and texts offering encouragement. Most began, “I don’t expect you to respond to this…” It was moving to have people understand that the pressure to respond was difficult when things are hard. It was challenging to deal with my own issues. Implied needs felt like big additions to the list. Encouragement offered with no strings attached felt like personal blessings.

This experience was very difficult for my wife, but she never let it show. She supported what I needed even when it was hard. She sat with me as we watched, more than once, movies we saw many times before. (People struggling with anxiety and depression frequently rewatch familiar material because it doesn’t require deep attention, it is comforting, and there are no surprises.) She worked with me even when my mood shifted frequently. Almost every night, there was a hand-written note on my pillow when I came to bed. Some were kind words, some good memories, and some prayers. I have the stack of them on the bedside table. Just looking at them is an encouragement.

Tiny, temporary moments made a significant difference. Most people know I am a voracious reader. To be unable to read for months was excruciating. Every couple of months, a day would cause things to relent enough for some reading. Those days, few in number, were like Christmas morning. The same was true for the days I could create. It was difficult to look at pens, paint, and brushes, and be unable to use them. Creative days were a breath of fresh air.

I will say more about my faith and faith journey in a future post, but the days when I would sense the presence of God, when words, music, even nature would break through long enough to see beauty and find a moment of hope, were celebrations.

One of the most surprising points of light came in the amazing support I received through strangers on social media. I would share a bad headspace day and hundreds of people would respond with support and encouragement. Many of them had similar struggles and understood my thoughts and feelings. Oh, I received a few, “what do you have to be depressed about?” comments. Often before I saw them, the same strangers would forcefully stand in the gap for me and shut those voices down, then they would offer even more support. They didn’t know that those actions were making up for places that was missing in my life. They truly had my back.

There are many more moments like these. I began a gratitude journal a few years ago, and that practice helped me remember these bright spots when there were none to see. Sometimes, all I needed was a memory of a little light to find hope again.

As I continue to share my story, you will probably see the rollercoaster of this journey, but know there were moments of beauty, wonder, and love. I’ll be back with more on Wednesday. Thanks for joining me.

The post Tiny Lights in the Darkness appeared first on Thinking Faith Cafe.

“Christians?” I replied.

“Yes, but I specifically meant pastors. Christians tend to keep believing it is a faith issue and so they try harder to be better. Pastors add another layer by believing they can fix themselves and thinking such a diagnosis makes them weak.”

I could hear my spirit say, “Yes, and yes.” It was a big hurdle to overcome, but with help I came through. I quickly learned that I was not the only one with those thoughts about my situation. There were plenty of people (“loving Christians”) who were offended their pastor had depression. They made sure to point out it was my fault, that I didn’t have enough faith, and it was a bad look for the church. It wasn’t the support I was looking for, or needed.

When the symptoms subsided, I made a commitment to God that I would not remain silent because too many were already doing that, too many negative attempts to support existed, along with wrong understandings. These things made it hard for many to seek the help they needed. So, when things erupted this time, I stuck to my promise. Many people were supportive, but others were still sharing the same concerns of two decades earlier.

To be clear, depression is not just feeling down or sad. Those are only symptoms. Many people say they are depressed, but they do not mean clinical depression. The same is true for anxiety. When dealing with clinical diagnoses, we are talking about health issues. This isn’t about choice or faith, like many other health concerns, they are physical problems that need correction, assisted by therapy to develop healthy coping mechanisms.

People still do not understand this. When I reached out for support, there were people who were angry about my method and about me being public about it. This was not the response I would have received if I announced I was dealing with blood pressure or diabetes. Why? Because this was “mental illness” and it was a scary thing. What would people say or think. What would people do if someone wanted information (other than ask me directly)?

I don’t want this to seem like an attack, though some may read it that way. The takeaway, from my perspective, is that little has changed in perception. I’ve still been told I just need more faith and the Bible says we are not to worry. Honestly, that still stings. I want to define it as misguided compassion, but when you’ve addressed it publicly and repeatedly, it becomes more clear that it is a toxic response.

Please understand, many people have stood with me all along. I’ve had colleagues who reached out with compassion and offered support. Friends did the same. One of my colleagues lovingly took it upon herself to do health checks, to listen and offer as little advice as possible. She simply held space for me to be me, to be safe, and to be seen. God did amazing things through her.

Depression and anxiety are challenging battles. Grace and love make an amazing difference. I cannot express the emotional pain that comes with feeling isolated, alone, and unseen every day, for months. I could not control the feeling, but I learned to function with it. When someone reached out, not to fix things, but to say, “I am here. You are seen. I accept how you feel and honor that, but I am tangible proof you are not alone,” it made it easier to breathe for a moment.

I have a lot of gratitude for those points of light. I will be turning my attention to them on Monday. There were, and are, many people and things I am grateful for. They will be more visible when compared with these first two posts. I hope you will join me Monday and find gratitude as well.

The post Accepting What it Really Is appeared first on Thinking Faith Cafe.

One of my best friends in college asked me this question, and she was completely serious. Her perspective on what ordained ministry entailed was built on a number of assumptions. The assumptions fuel the classic comments I’ve received, like, “must be nice to only work an hour a week.”

These beliefs affected the way people understood what happened during the pandemic. If you only work an hour each week, then being stuck at home must be a vacation, right? Except, it’s not an hour a week, just the sermon writing takes 12-15 hours, and there was more to come.

Recently, I came across a thread by Rev. Eric Atcheson. As I read each post, I thought, “He’s writing my story!” There are a few important differences, but he captures what many clergy felt, and certainly what I felt. Please take the time to read it in his own words.

I did not resign, but the idea rolled around in my thoughts a few times. Watching the way a major portion of the Church, not my church, but the whole Church, responded to the opportunity to care for people; to sacrifice for the well-being of others was beyond disappointing. I am still seeking God for clarity on how to minister to the world in the wake of the harm the church committed. Right now, I am taking one step of faith at a time, with my spirit focused on Christ.

This was the backdrop for all of the other things that would take place during this season: my wife’s cancer diagnosis and subsequent treatment, ongoing safety protocols because of the damage to her immune system, my own infection and the two minor surgeries that went with it, insurance issues, and ultimately, my depression.

This is what happened. This is what brought me to the place I am. What I tried to pass off as exhaustion and burnout was actually depression. I find great solace in my psychiatrist’s words, “ After all that, I’d be worried if you didn’t have depression.”

Friday, I will share more of the story, but now you have the background of how I got to where I am. I am not posting this for personal attention. Instead, I want to bring attention to the needs of many, to the challenge to the church, and to the solutions I am discovering along the way. I hope you will continue to share the journey with me.

The post What Happened? appeared first on Thinking Faith Cafe.

During the same time, I was practicing daily meditation, some guided and some in quiet stillness. Many of my meditations focused on self-compassion and compassion toward others (including people I struggle with). It only takes a moment to see the inconsistency in my thoughts and actions.

When I entered the meeting, all of my negative feelings started to surface. my body was physically reacting to the emotions I felt. I thought, “this is going to be a long event.” I prayed, asking God to give me grace.

It was only a moment before I began to see the dissonance between what I was asking for and what I was willing to give. I wanted to receive the grace of God, knowing I am not perfect, but I was struggling to offer grace to someone who surely needed it. I could feel the conflict, and I acknowledged it. When I looked at this person again, I could feel God using the Spirit and my practice to release a wave of compassion for the person I held resentment for only moments ago. I was almost in tears resulting from the heartfelt love I was experiencing.

Compassion is a gift. Without it, we navigate life with countless wounds that spill over into other’s lives. As the saying goes, “hurting people hurt people.” Without the gift of compassion, we take the harm we receive and we multiply it, but with it, we break the chain of hate and pain. With the gift of compassion we can offer ourselves compassion when we need it, and we can draw from it when we need to feel it for others. Finding that compassion can even overflow to others in our sphere of influence.

All of this should be second nature to those of us who call ourselves by the name of Christ. As those who are the recipients of divine compassion, we should draw from that abundance. Sadly, this is often not the case. Sometimes, we fail. We may need more stillness to receive, or we may need more practice, but the pervasiveness of the lack of compassion within the church is telling. It’s telling us we need to take time to make corrections, and it’s telling the world that our faith isn’t real, that we are not transformed.

When we are concerned about rules more than we are about people, there is a problem. Yes, rules matter, but obeying rules is not what abundant life is about. We never find Jesus attacking people who were struggling. in fact, his only harsh words were for religious leaders who were trying to protect their power. Instead of causing more pain, the Scripture says, “He had compassion on them.”

When the world around us knows us for our judgement and not our compassion, we have lost touch with what our faith is truly about. Recently, I heard people try to shift the blame away from themselves, toward those who are hurting. That is painful, and the result of an immature faith. We receive love from God so that we can love others with the love we received.

I needed the reminder in my meeting. Maybe you need one too. Could it be that we need to remain teachable, open to challenge and correction? Could it be that offering compassion not only blesses others, but blesses us in the process? Virtues grow with practice. We can use our meditation and stillness to practice offering ourselves compassion. We can use our prayer time to receive compassion from God. We can use both to bless others with compassion. That way, when we are in the midst of meetings and plans, we will be prepared to demonstrate compassion and rejoice in its blessing.

The post Practice Compassion appeared first on Thinking Faith Cafe.

It’s been almost a year since I created a blog post. That is not a record I hoped to achieve, but the reality of life in a pandemic makes things challenging. So does battling depression, and that is where I continue to find myself.

Shortly after Easter 2021, I began to notice I was not okay. My attempts to relieve stress and burnout were little help. I tried my own efforts a little longer, after all, the pandemic, my wife’s intensive cancer treatment, and her recovery clearly led to stress. Add Christmas and Easter, year-end paperwork, and navigating ministry in the continuing health crisis, and it was easy to excuse my feelings.

I realized I needed help. I spoke with my doctor, who helped with medication, and I spoke with my counselor and began to work through my experiences, and wrestle through my struggle with uncertainty. The process was slow, and my doctor asked me to consult with a specialist. That was difficult; issues of stigma affected me. They still do. It was the right call, however. My new doctor was able to begin changing medications to deal with my depression and anxiety. We are still making changes, and it’s been a wild ride.

I discovered an amazing group of online friends who helped me through many dark moments. I was shocked how open I could be in that context and how much people cared. I also saw how many people were hurting in similar ways. Sadly, I also heard and witnessed people of faith condemning lack of faith for their emotional distress. There was harsh judgement, insulting statements, and a serious lack of love.

How were these words and actions supposed to help those who are suffering? How do they reflect the Jesus who, “had compassion on them all?” The answer to both questions is they didn’t. Self-righteous comments and empty holiness only have the power to cause harm. It is no wonder so many people want nothing to do with the church, and by extension, Jesus.

I continue to face some difficult questions about my faith and life. I know God exists because of personal experience. I know God is love for similar reasons. How and where that is expressed by those who call themselves Christian is a very different story. This is not my attack on Christians. It is a call to look at what we’ve become and ask if it looks anything like the One we claim to represent. I am asking myself the same questions.

I will continue to explore and ask hard questions. I will wrestle with my own healing, while hoping I can be part of healing others, or at least, supporting them as they seek healing. I feel like I can write again. I hope I can continue. I will get better and this dark night of the soul will pass, but I don’t want to lose sight of the insights I’ve gained. I don’t want to settle for a counterfeit version of faith. I don’t want to miss out on the beauty of compassion for myself and others. I don’t want a form of religion that denies the real power of Love.

My upcoming posts will likely be personal. I hope they will spark some necessary conversation. I learned a lot in a year and I hope that sharing part of my journey will encourage some who are on the same path, and enlighten those who are not. If you waited for my return, thank you. If you moved on, I understand. I believe great things are ahead. I hope you will continue to connect with me. Here’s to a new day!

The post Waiting to Return appeared first on Thinking Faith Cafe.

What happened to compassion? Seriously, when did compassion go out of style? Isn’t it time that we found compassion deep within our hearts and expressed it to the world around us. Could there be a better time than right now to let compassion loose in great expressions in the world?

There was a time when we would respond to the hurt of the world with the love and concern of our hearts. We would feel something deep within our being when we saw pictures of starving children, suffering people around the world, and victims of horrific crimes and tragedies. We were moved by the site of animals who were wounded. We were deeply touched by the stories of those who were enduring great hardship. Very simply, we cared.

Jesus exemplified a ministry of compassion. Numerous times in the Gospels we find Jesus coming upon crowds of people and the Gospels record that he had compassion on them and then he took some type of action. Typically, Jesus would begin to heal people of their brokenness. Jesus was deeply concerned about their well-being and when he saw the trouble, the fear, the broken places, Jesus responded from the heart to love them above everything else going on in the moment and care for those needs. Jesus lived this way as an example for you and for me as to how we should live our lives around others.

Compassion appears to be a rare commodity these days. People are exasperated by the pandemic, and they are struggling to find a solid place to stand. Futures are in flux, and it feels like the whole world is changing, and that feeling is true. In moments like these we can be tempted to turn inward, which also reduces our compassion for others. “Me” and, “Mine,” take the place of, “Us,” and, “All.”

Then there is the polarization sown like tares among the wheat. Many of those charged with protecting the wheat, actively sow weeds, sometime without even knowing. We’ve divided nearly everything in to “Us vs. Them.” Along with that division, we’ve unfortunately embraced a Zero Sum Mentality. This is the belief that there is only so much resource to go around, and I have to get mine before someone else takes it. The combination leads us to see those with us and the rest are enemies.

What if, as common as this thinking is becoming, there was another perspective? What if that perspective was already in our grasp? What if we considered God’s perspective? I am not suggesting that we find ways to make it seem as if God endorses us, but rather, that we humble ourselves before God, lean not on our own understanding, and follow the path marked out for us.

Imagine life where we saw each other as people of infinite worth, made in the image of God, and so important to God that Jesus gave his life for all of us. We could take Jesus’ word to love and pray for our enemies as more than a kind suggestion, but rather, a kingdom command. Just picture our world as a place where we valued one another even in our differences, a place where we truly cared about each other. Just what might happen if God’s kingdom comes and God’s will is done on earth as it is in heaven? We’ve been praying that most of our lives. Does it really make any difference?

As we walk through this Lenten season, drawing closer to the celebration of Easter, can we see the saving power of God at work in our world, even when it is not as we expected, or maybe even wanted? Can we fully trust God? Can we embrace the teaching and example of our Lord, Jesus Christ, and look upon a broken and hurting world, and be moved with compassion? Oh , to think what would happen if we replaced political ideologies, personal preferences, our comfort zone, and every other thing that brings division, with the blessed gift of compassion.

I see a day when where we hear political news and our anger, doubt, and even hatred, is replaced by a heart of flesh that looks to God in faith. I see a day where, instead of taking advantage of a painful news headline, we let God break our hearts for people in grief and pain. I see a day where we will humbly consider others of more value than ourselves.

I see a day. Can you see it?

The post A New Day appeared first on Thinking Faith Cafe.

One of the side effects of a year of pandemic life is a strain on my creativity. From the conversations I’ve had with others, it seems this is a very common situation, and it turns out it’s actually a biological reality. The mental systems used to address flight or fright pull energy from other parts of the brain and redirect it to combat the fear, anxiety, or other issues. It is not surprising that the persistent concerns of the past year would do harm to the areas of creativity in my brain and in yours.

Creativity is a blessing from God. When we are creative we are acting in a way that shows we are made in God’s image. God creates, not just in the beginning, but even today as new days are formed a new life is brought forth. When we demonstrate our creative ability, we point to that aspect of God that sees new things, and shows others how to observe the beauty that surrounds them.

Throughout the pandemic, people have posted memes and made comments about who was most needed during this difficult time. It was an ongoing push to point out which workers, which figures, are actually essential. Everybody had their own opinion some lifted up physicians and medical care workers, some said it was the people working in grocery stores and gas stations, others highlighted those who were part of the distribution system like truckers and delivery people. (Hint: they are all necessary). At the same time, people pointed out who they believed they didn’t need. One of the most common statements I saw claimed people didn’t need movie stars, musical artists, sports figures, and other types of entertainers and creatives.

If you reflect on the past year however, you realize it is the creatives helped us navigate our way through the challenges of the pandemic. We began to watch new programs, to binge watch new series on Netflix, and to listen to music to carry us away. Many read books and got lost in the words of written art shared with the world. I am not taking away from all of the other categories, but we must admit that we really did need creative‘s during this time to help us find a way through challenging tasks and emotions.

While we were entertained, things were quite difficult for people who create. Sure, there are artists and actors who are not wanting for money at this time. However, they are in a period of their life where they have never been. Like the rest of us, it is hard to find our identity in the midst of all of this. Think of all the other creatives, all of the artists and musicians and authors. They are struggling to make ends meet while searching for creative inspiration.

One of the prayers that arises weekly, as I pray the Daily Office, asks God to remind us that we are all connected through our shared life and our work, and to keep us aware of our need for each other. In a nation that is deeply divided, think how powerful that prayer is. Our lives are impacted by countless other people, people of great importance to God even if they appear unknown.

One of my seminary professors reflected this prayer with this illustration. As I sit and drink my coffee this morning, I remember that there are farmers growing coffee, who labor long hours with other workers to grow the beans. People transported those beans in their native countries, through shipping, and in our country as well. Delivery of the beans to roasters took other hands, and the roasters worked hard to prepare the foundation of our morning brew. The coffee was transported to retail locations, where employees stocked the shelves and helped us purchase our supply. In the end, many unseen, unnoticed people are a part of our morning cup.

I understand why it was, and is, necessary to distinguish essential workers to navigate our way through this season, but in God’s eyes, and in the web of community, everyone is essential to one another.

Today, as a part of the Lenten journey, take time to reflect on all the people who impact your life, those you see, and all of those you do not see. Consider that each one of them is deeply loved by God and is of infinite worth. Pray for them, then truly savor the blessings of your life. Right now, I am going to savor my coffee, realizing the physical investment of numerous people and bringing them before God in prayer. Maybe, you would join me wherever you are.

The post Essential appeared first on Thinking Faith Cafe.

Yesterday was the day, the day for my COVID vaccination. I waited for this day, when I could take another step in the safety of our family and a first step toward more breaking out of the past year’s restrictions. I was so thankful to get an appointment and I was ready. I was also filled with anxiety.

Some people are anxious around needles, or crowds. Other are anxious about the vaccination itself and possible side effects. None of these things affected me. I trust the science and know the vaccine is necessary. My anxiety stems from lack of information. The unknown leads to uncomfortable rather quickly for me.

As we drove the 45 minute trip to the site, I reflected on, nearly meditated on, the unknown. Where do I park? What entrance do I use? What paperwork needs to be ready first? Will my paperwork be correct. If I am early, where will I wait? By the time I arrived, I was quite uncomfortable. Then, I met the staff.

A man met me at the door, opened it for me, and directed me to a young woman who looked like she was a cruise director. She kindly asked to check my temperature and inquire about any possible exposure. Still smiling, she directed my to a table where another person checked off my appointment.

I then followed a series of dots on the floor that marked six-foot distances and directed my path. A woman greeted me again and directed me to a station with two nurses. They were comforting and calm, willing to answer any questions and explaining what they were going to do. I received my shot, and then a man led me to a properly distanced, just sanitized seat and asked me to wait 15 minutes. Staff kept checking to see if people were okay and offered some light conversation and humor. When my time came to leave, another person met me at the room and directed me to the exit.

Throughout the whole experience, I felt welcome and secure, quite the difference from how I felt when I parked. What made the difference? People. People with a concern for others. People who understood how those of us coming through would feel. People who practiced radical hospitality.

Walking back to the car, I was amazed by the hospitality. I immediately thought about people who visit church. We all want to believe we are welcoming, but is that what our guests experience? Do we take the time to think about how people will feel every moment they are with us? What do people need to feel safe and supported? How much hospitality do we actually show?

It is not my goal to diminish anything that the church tries to offer, but if we are offering our best for Christ, shouldn’t we do all we can to improve the way we welcome people in the name of the Lord? Are we willing to be uncomfortable, so that others can experience the power of radical hospitality?

I intentionally spend time with people outside the church. The truth is, they often have the best perspective on how well we are fulfilling our call. Just this week I read through some responses on Twitter to the question, “Do you go to church?” I was amazed. I expected some zealous Christians and some equally zealous atheists. What I did not expect was the vast number of comments that spoke of leaving the church due to deep wounds, theology that wounded people, and lack of love. One person said, “I have never felt as insignificant and unwanted as when I was in church. I’ll never go back.”

My heart breaks in moments like these. I used to be someone who excused these concerns away. “That was one pastor or one church,” “It was probably bad communication,” or worst of all, “They probably just couldn’t handle the truth.” I am ashamed to admit I ever thought this way. Now, I recognize the powerful need to listen, to really hear, not just the words, but the heart of the person sharing them. I need to care and accept that we often miss the mark, and sometimes, we cause harm. That is not what comes to mind when I ask the question, “What would Jesus do?”

Maybe, it is time for the church to look at some volunteers and medical workers who cared enough to offer such amazing hospitality to people who came confused, afraid, and anxious. Maybe, as we return to worship services and church activities, we can come back in a new way, with a new mission. Maybe, our hospitality could be so filled with the love of Christ that people would not only feel welcome and wanted, but come away knowing they are transformed by the experience.

When I left the vaccine site, my step was faster and lighter. I had a smile on my face and hope in my heart, and the first thing I did was tell someone, then some others, and then even more. I experienced something in the short time I was there. It changed me. I believe it is time for the church to be the church, offering radical hospitality that makes an eternal difference in the lives of all who cross our path.

The post Radical Hospitality appeared first on Thinking Faith Cafe.

Adapting to the current reality is deeply unsettling. Routines that bring comfort and stability are interrupted or lost. We face unprecedented decisions and actions, and each of us is doing the best that we can. We all want our old routines back to create some sense of normalcy. Unfortunately, that is not the plan for a while longer.

Members of our church family are beginning to reach out to us asking about Holy Week. Will we have palms? How do we worship on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday? What do we do to help our Sunday School children? What about Easter? The last question pricks my heart. In every case I want to say, “Sure, things can be fairly normal. These significant points on our calendar can be experienced in familiar ways.” I want to say that, but I can’t. It’s not safe to worship as usual, and I am working to create materials for families to worship in their homes.

Personally, all of this makes me aware of how many things we take for granted. Church services that are easy to skip in our busy lives, now become deeply desired moments together. The list is long: a cup of coffee with a friend, a dinner out, meals with extended family, even normal grocery shopping. The thousand facets of our lives are magnified in this moment. The value of relationships, contact, and community highlighted in powerful ways. The normal we often try to avoid is now a goal.

Of course, most of us realize that everything will not be the same when the pandemic is over, but our lives will regain much of their normalcy. Somehow, the knowledge that there is an end to what we are facing makes it easier to bear. It gives us hope, and hope does not disappoint us.

I don’t want to get preachy, though that is what preachers do, but this is a moment the Spirit can use to broaden our vision. After all I’ve already said, we need to know that there are people, made in the image of God and deeply loved, who are struggling to survive. Many of them were facing that struggle before the pandemic, and hope is a distant idea, if it is a thought at all. Imagine what would happen if God used this season of dis-ease to help us become aware of our precious neighbors who remain unseen. What would happen if our temporary discomfort made us recognize the permanent discomfort of others?

My comments are not about guilt, nor are they an attempt to minimize our experience, fear, and frustration. I do wonder, however, if we will allow God to give us revelation in this season. Will we remain open and teachable in the face of our challenges? God is always speaking. God is always giving fresh vision. God is always stoking the fires of faith to call us out in to new places and new ways of loving our neighbors and sharing the love of Christ.

If we will allow God to use this time to shape us and prepare us, then God can send us into the world in new ways. God can redeem the time, not merely by fixing things, but by healing us, allowing us to see the world as God sees it. So, as we face our inconveniences, our obstacles, and even our fears, may we keep our spirits open to the teaching of the One who goes before us, walks with us, and watches over us from behind. That which is meant for evil, God will use for good!

The post Teachable Frustration appeared first on Thinking Faith Cafe.

I know many people get stuck in the past. While I understand what might lead to such struggles, my issues tend to focus on what is yet to come. Either way, trying to re-live the past or anticipate the future, when our thoughts are somewhere else, we are no longer rooted in the present, and being present to the present is incredibly important.

The present is important because that is where we actually live. It is the only moment we can experience and the only place where we can act. When we dwell on the past or worry about the future, we surrender the opportunity of the moment to focus on what we cannot change or what may never happen. In our current context, this is a profound challenge. My thoughts are engaging in multiple rounds of “What if?” and each time I allow the game to be played, I miss the preciousness of the present.

Almost four years ago, I nearly lost my wife, my best friend, to cancer. The process was lengthy, with multiple life threatening moments. In those moments, she was enmeshed in battle and I was facing my worst fears and a profound sense of helplessness. Thank God, she experienced a full recovery, and we continue to enjoy our life together.

In this moment, we are aware of the need to take precautions because we both are at higher risk of contracting this virus, and with her compromised immune system, my choices can have a serious impact on her health. This is where my anxiety begins. I begin to imagine possibilities from the potential impact of a simple mistake, to seeing her in another battle for her life. Those thoughts often play in high definition.

Are such fantasies possible? Yes, they are, but so is the possibility that our wise choices protect us, and we both emerge healthy and happy. The truth is, I have absolutely no idea what the future holds. I cannot know what will happen today. What I do know is, when I am imagining challenging, potential futures, I am missing the blessing of the present. Bluntly stated, when I am anxious about our future, I am loosing the time we have together now.

I admit that I find it difficult to be present. From what I see and hear, many people do. Just because it is difficult doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try. In fact, it is all the more important that I do. One of the blessings, and challenges, of the current, restricted activity is time to practice being present. I realize that I may never achieve perfection in this, but I can be much better.

The practice of mindfulness is popular right now, but the rich history of those in the Christian tradition who practiced prayer and meditation, points to the value of being present to the present in every moment. When we release the past and the future, we can be at peace in the present. Jesus said, “Do not worry about tomorrow.” We can live in the moment: savoring it, celebrating it, and truly living it. Living in the moment causes anxiety to dissolve for there is nothing left to be anxious about.

I know I need a lot of practice, but what a great use of this time. Today, this moment, is the perfect time to be fully present to God, to my family, and to the world, and I will keep practicing until it happens naturally. If you struggle with holding on to the past, or worrying about the future, I pray that you will join me in asking God to help you be present to the present, for in this moment is the presence and peace of God.

The post Present to the Present appeared first on Thinking Faith Cafe.