I fear the road out of spiritual darkness is a long one. I wrote last time about the "reality of here," and I'm finally getting around to trying to dig myself out. The most embarrassing thing about my writing is that I have nothing to complain about. Currently, I am financially secure, healthy, and comfortable. I have a terrific family and great friends; and both are relatively near to me geographically. I am not sick. I'm not in the middle of a divorce or on my way to one. I don't fear for my safety daily. I have limitless opportunities each day. All this by the grace of God.
Those facts, though, make it ridiculous for me to write about spiritual darkenss when so many I know have real complaints, real tragedies, real obstacles. Do not read this post and the previous one as insults. Personally embarrassing for me, yes. But certainly I have no intent to disrespect those with real problems.
The evidence suggests that I don't have real problems. My state of mind, however, suggests otherwise. So I've begun the digging out process.
I know I've got to start with prayer. Prayer is tough when you're "here." It's like not seeing an acquaintance for about 5 years (mostly because you didn't ever have time to return their phone calls), then running into them. What do you say? Sorry I'm an ass?
I know reading the Bible is key. But that feels like homework right now. 90% of the time reading the Bible feels like sitting down with an old friend. It's better than anything I've read, and I'm a literature teacher who loves what I teach. But right now it's not speaking to me. And a big part of the reason is my focus on all my work piling up on me.
I know I've got to lower my stress. But there's nothing greater (sarcasm, sarcasm) than demanding to a stressful person to knock it off, quit being stressed. Right now!!! Balance would lower stress, I'm sure. But balance would get fewer things done. Fewer things done would create more stress. A beautiful cycle.
I'm trying. I'm clawing. I'm desperate. And as I said to start, all things considered, I'm living a great life. I just can't wait to get out of "here." The journey continues. . .
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
The reality of "here"
Tonight I'm going to be more honest than I care to get about myself; but I've got to write something, and I can't fake my way through this one.
Basically, I'd like to reveal reality tonight - the reality of spiritual darkness. When I started this blog, one of my goals was to present real comments from an average guy about spirituality. In order to be most real, I've got to admit that feelings like this exist; and I don't know what to do about it.
I don't feel great right now. I'm fine, but I don't really feel much of anything other than frustration. I've been busy, and I've allowed myself to wander, which shouldn't be shocking based on the title of this blog. Frankly, I've gotten disconnected from God. I've read less and prayed less and been to church less than is absolutely necessary to maintain connectivity. So now I find myself here.
Where is here? Here is where you are when you open up your Bible and realize you don't have the focus or the motivation to keep reading. When you know you're just reading, not feeling and understanding and tasting truth from the pages. Here is where I know I should pray, but I don't have anything to say to God that doesn't sound fake. And I can't be fake. Here is where hymns are just words, a job is a job to endure, and blogs are tough to write because I'm so far from where I was when I wrote earlier posts.
Here is where my wife can't stand to be around me because I'm just not myself. Where I see more problems than possibilities, where I get frustrated at my daughter's first round of whining instead of the fifth, where I have so much to do and don't really want to do any of it because I'm tired and grumpy and the TV is so much easier.
I'm still enjoying life. And I'm still doing my job. I can go have a great weekend with my wife and my family, enjoying every minute of it. But when I get home and am alone, I am here. I can go to work and have great class discussions over literature and have meaningful conversations with kids. Then I leave, and I'm here.
I think we've all been "here." I hate admitting I'm here, and I hate even more that I have no idea how to get out of "here." But I had to write. And I had to be real tonight.
So here I am, being way more honest than I want to be. But if this is going to be a blog about the average man and spirituality, I've got to admit that "here" exists.
Basically, I'd like to reveal reality tonight - the reality of spiritual darkness. When I started this blog, one of my goals was to present real comments from an average guy about spirituality. In order to be most real, I've got to admit that feelings like this exist; and I don't know what to do about it.
I don't feel great right now. I'm fine, but I don't really feel much of anything other than frustration. I've been busy, and I've allowed myself to wander, which shouldn't be shocking based on the title of this blog. Frankly, I've gotten disconnected from God. I've read less and prayed less and been to church less than is absolutely necessary to maintain connectivity. So now I find myself here.
Where is here? Here is where you are when you open up your Bible and realize you don't have the focus or the motivation to keep reading. When you know you're just reading, not feeling and understanding and tasting truth from the pages. Here is where I know I should pray, but I don't have anything to say to God that doesn't sound fake. And I can't be fake. Here is where hymns are just words, a job is a job to endure, and blogs are tough to write because I'm so far from where I was when I wrote earlier posts.
Here is where my wife can't stand to be around me because I'm just not myself. Where I see more problems than possibilities, where I get frustrated at my daughter's first round of whining instead of the fifth, where I have so much to do and don't really want to do any of it because I'm tired and grumpy and the TV is so much easier.
I'm still enjoying life. And I'm still doing my job. I can go have a great weekend with my wife and my family, enjoying every minute of it. But when I get home and am alone, I am here. I can go to work and have great class discussions over literature and have meaningful conversations with kids. Then I leave, and I'm here.
I think we've all been "here." I hate admitting I'm here, and I hate even more that I have no idea how to get out of "here." But I had to write. And I had to be real tonight.
So here I am, being way more honest than I want to be. But if this is going to be a blog about the average man and spirituality, I've got to admit that "here" exists.
Monday, October 26, 2009
I could've been somebody. . .
I read Sandra Cisneros' novel House on Mango Street for my grad class last week. The book is a collection of connected short stories about a young Hispanic-American girl growing up in her neighborhood. Several quotes stood out to me about the book.
1. “I could’ve been somebody, you know? my mother says and sighs.”
I think this is the great fear for everyone in life – to wake up and realize what one could have been and see unrealized potential. I know I fear this on almost a daily basis. However, this mother doesn’t see that she is somebody. She is a wildly successful mother (it seems). She is likely someone who loves her family passionately. She has so much more than many people in life and has accomplished a great deal through her children. This was an important reminder to me, that perhaps what I accomplish with my family is so much more important than fulfilling professional potential.
2. “They always told us that one day we would move into a house, a real house that would be ours for always so we wouldn’t have to move each year. And our house would have running water and pipes that worked. And inside it would have real stairs, not hallway stairs, but stairs inside like the houses on T.V. . . . This was the house Papa talked about when he held a lottery ticket and this was the house Mama dreamed up in the stories she told us before we went to bed.”
“I knew then I had to have a house. A real house. One I could point to. But this isn’t it. The house on Mango Street isn’t it. For the time being, Mama says. Temporary, says Papa. But I know how those things go.”
To me, this is a great picture of real life. On one side, you have the dream. This is what you hope for, this is what you’ve been told is within your reach as part of the American Dream. On the other side is reality. There is a disappointment when reality doesn’t match the dream. But the author knows “how those things go.” It’s life.
Also, this "Promised Land" approach to life is one of the most dangerous approaches to happiness that attacks the daily lives of so many individuals. It’s the “I’ll be happy when. . .” mindset, or the “If I can just get through this. . .” approach. The bottom line that people need to figure out (and that I need to remind myself of often) is that happiness is more of a choice and less of a product of circumstances. I won’t be happier when my graduate degree is complete. Things won’t calm down once I get through this grading period. If I’m not able to be content in all circumstances, I probably won’t be able to be content in any.
Also, these “promised land” dreams are what leads to a great deal of disappointment in life. It’s so easy to build up in our heads a perfect picture of what something will be like – first job, marriage, kids. And it’s rarely if ever how you picture it. Even the realities of the politics involved in being an educator are something that weren’t part of the grand picture I had in my head when dreaming of being a teacher. When expectations don’t meet reality, it’s easy to get down. (I know this sounds like a contradiction to my comments about dreaming big in an earlier post. Perhaps it is. But I'm okay with that)
A few other quotes that caught my eye, but that I'll let speak for themselves:
- “People who live on hills sleep so close to the stars they forget those of us who live too much on earth. They don’t look down at all except to be content to live on hills.”
- “All brown all around, we are safe. But watch us drive into a neighborhood of another color and our knees go shakity-shake and our car windows get rolled up tight and our eyes look straight. Yeah. That is how it goes and goes.”
- “Until then I am a red balloon, a balloon tied to an anchor.”
1. “I could’ve been somebody, you know? my mother says and sighs.”
I think this is the great fear for everyone in life – to wake up and realize what one could have been and see unrealized potential. I know I fear this on almost a daily basis. However, this mother doesn’t see that she is somebody. She is a wildly successful mother (it seems). She is likely someone who loves her family passionately. She has so much more than many people in life and has accomplished a great deal through her children. This was an important reminder to me, that perhaps what I accomplish with my family is so much more important than fulfilling professional potential.
2. “They always told us that one day we would move into a house, a real house that would be ours for always so we wouldn’t have to move each year. And our house would have running water and pipes that worked. And inside it would have real stairs, not hallway stairs, but stairs inside like the houses on T.V. . . . This was the house Papa talked about when he held a lottery ticket and this was the house Mama dreamed up in the stories she told us before we went to bed.”
“I knew then I had to have a house. A real house. One I could point to. But this isn’t it. The house on Mango Street isn’t it. For the time being, Mama says. Temporary, says Papa. But I know how those things go.”
To me, this is a great picture of real life. On one side, you have the dream. This is what you hope for, this is what you’ve been told is within your reach as part of the American Dream. On the other side is reality. There is a disappointment when reality doesn’t match the dream. But the author knows “how those things go.” It’s life.
Also, this "Promised Land" approach to life is one of the most dangerous approaches to happiness that attacks the daily lives of so many individuals. It’s the “I’ll be happy when. . .” mindset, or the “If I can just get through this. . .” approach. The bottom line that people need to figure out (and that I need to remind myself of often) is that happiness is more of a choice and less of a product of circumstances. I won’t be happier when my graduate degree is complete. Things won’t calm down once I get through this grading period. If I’m not able to be content in all circumstances, I probably won’t be able to be content in any.
Also, these “promised land” dreams are what leads to a great deal of disappointment in life. It’s so easy to build up in our heads a perfect picture of what something will be like – first job, marriage, kids. And it’s rarely if ever how you picture it. Even the realities of the politics involved in being an educator are something that weren’t part of the grand picture I had in my head when dreaming of being a teacher. When expectations don’t meet reality, it’s easy to get down. (I know this sounds like a contradiction to my comments about dreaming big in an earlier post. Perhaps it is. But I'm okay with that)
A few other quotes that caught my eye, but that I'll let speak for themselves:
- “People who live on hills sleep so close to the stars they forget those of us who live too much on earth. They don’t look down at all except to be content to live on hills.”
- “All brown all around, we are safe. But watch us drive into a neighborhood of another color and our knees go shakity-shake and our car windows get rolled up tight and our eyes look straight. Yeah. That is how it goes and goes.”
- “Until then I am a red balloon, a balloon tied to an anchor.”
Monday, October 19, 2009
Preaching to myself, the deer
I'm working my way through a series of sermons by John Piper about the book of Psalms. The great thing about the Psalms is that they are poetry - raw, immediate, emotional responses to a range of life situations. Sometimes I find solace reading the words of someone living thousands of years ago who felt exactly like I do. More often, however, I read what I wish I were feeling.
The sermon I recently listened to was about Psalm 42, about a man in spiritual depression (to download sermon, go to http://www.desiringgod.org/ResourceLibrary/Sermons/BySeries/84/2806_Spiritual_Depression_in_the_Psalms/). What struck me were two of the six responses by this writer.
One of them is that the writer preaches to his own soul. Piper called it crucial that we learn to preach the truth to ourselves. Piper quotes Martin Lloyd-Jones:
"Have you realized that most of your unhappiness in life is due to the fact that you are listening to yourself instead of talking to yourself? Take those thoughts that come to you the moment you wake up in the morning. You have not originated them but they are talking to you, they bring back the problems of yesterday, etc. Somebody is talking. Who is talking to you? Your self is talking to you. . ."
I find it exceptionally common to be in a situation in which I know the truth but I don't feel the truth. I don't forget the realities of God; I would just prefer to listen to myself stay focused on how I feel I'm being cheated or wronged. In those times I must preach to myself.
The other thing that stood out regarded a well-known verse from this Psalm: "As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God" (verse 1). What stands out here is that despite the depression and turmoil being dealt with, the writer doesn't say that he thirsts for relief from his circumstances. He doesn't thirst for escape from his enemies. He certainly wants these things. But more important to him is God Himself. He wants God. And if enduring these storms brings him closer, then he will endure these storms.
Seek God, and preach to myself. I'll add that to not being strongly moved on my to-do list for the week. I've got a lot of work to do.
The sermon I recently listened to was about Psalm 42, about a man in spiritual depression (to download sermon, go to http://www.desiringgod.org/ResourceLibrary/Sermons/BySeries/84/2806_Spiritual_Depression_in_the_Psalms/). What struck me were two of the six responses by this writer.
One of them is that the writer preaches to his own soul. Piper called it crucial that we learn to preach the truth to ourselves. Piper quotes Martin Lloyd-Jones:
"Have you realized that most of your unhappiness in life is due to the fact that you are listening to yourself instead of talking to yourself? Take those thoughts that come to you the moment you wake up in the morning. You have not originated them but they are talking to you, they bring back the problems of yesterday, etc. Somebody is talking. Who is talking to you? Your self is talking to you. . ."
I find it exceptionally common to be in a situation in which I know the truth but I don't feel the truth. I don't forget the realities of God; I would just prefer to listen to myself stay focused on how I feel I'm being cheated or wronged. In those times I must preach to myself.
The other thing that stood out regarded a well-known verse from this Psalm: "As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God" (verse 1). What stands out here is that despite the depression and turmoil being dealt with, the writer doesn't say that he thirsts for relief from his circumstances. He doesn't thirst for escape from his enemies. He certainly wants these things. But more important to him is God Himself. He wants God. And if enduring these storms brings him closer, then he will endure these storms.
Seek God, and preach to myself. I'll add that to not being strongly moved on my to-do list for the week. I've got a lot of work to do.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Notes from today
Some notes from today:
1. One writing assignment I gave to my Modern American Lit. students was to write down what they believed about God and how they came to that belief. I told them to include both what they are sure of and what they think they know. But I asked them to tell me their personal beliefs, not those of their family. It's a pre-reading prompt for the text The Color Purple.
I think this is a worthy question for all of us. If you can't answer the question and feel good about the answer, you probably don't know what you believe. And if you don't know what you believe, you have no world-view directing your decisions and actions. Very dangerous.
I love teaching this book because the author's message is one I deplore. I disagree whole-heartedly with the ideas the author suggests about God in the book. It's a challenge, therefore, to love the literature but hate the message. And the reward is that I get to hear teenager reaction to the book. I get to see them being forced to stretch their initial image (or lack thereof) of God and justify or change that belief. I think many people are scared to death to read texts about ideas they disagree with. In reality, I know of no better way to solidify one's beliefs than by allowing them to be challenged by someone who stands in very different shoes.
2. I read what I consider to be one of the greatest lines in all of the Psalms tonight. David writes in Psalm 62:
"He is my defense;
I shall not be greatly moved."
I want this to be true of myself more than just about anything right now. I would love to build a reputation of someone who shall not be greatly moved. I shouldn't be greatly moved (worked up, upset, complaining, agitated, etc.) by many of the trivialities in life. When things are tough, if I truly believe what I say I believe, I should stand strong, unfliching. I shouldn't feel my blood pressure boil when silly people say silly things, or when situations I can't control prevent me from my own illusion of being in complete control. And I shouldn't let the number of things on my "To-do list" move me away from patience, from prayer, and from focus on my priorities.
I know of no greater challenge to myself right now than to not be greatly moved. I seek to stand strong; because when I don't, I reveal how little I truly believe God is.
1. One writing assignment I gave to my Modern American Lit. students was to write down what they believed about God and how they came to that belief. I told them to include both what they are sure of and what they think they know. But I asked them to tell me their personal beliefs, not those of their family. It's a pre-reading prompt for the text The Color Purple.
I think this is a worthy question for all of us. If you can't answer the question and feel good about the answer, you probably don't know what you believe. And if you don't know what you believe, you have no world-view directing your decisions and actions. Very dangerous.
I love teaching this book because the author's message is one I deplore. I disagree whole-heartedly with the ideas the author suggests about God in the book. It's a challenge, therefore, to love the literature but hate the message. And the reward is that I get to hear teenager reaction to the book. I get to see them being forced to stretch their initial image (or lack thereof) of God and justify or change that belief. I think many people are scared to death to read texts about ideas they disagree with. In reality, I know of no better way to solidify one's beliefs than by allowing them to be challenged by someone who stands in very different shoes.
2. I read what I consider to be one of the greatest lines in all of the Psalms tonight. David writes in Psalm 62:
"He is my defense;
I shall not be greatly moved."
I want this to be true of myself more than just about anything right now. I would love to build a reputation of someone who shall not be greatly moved. I shouldn't be greatly moved (worked up, upset, complaining, agitated, etc.) by many of the trivialities in life. When things are tough, if I truly believe what I say I believe, I should stand strong, unfliching. I shouldn't feel my blood pressure boil when silly people say silly things, or when situations I can't control prevent me from my own illusion of being in complete control. And I shouldn't let the number of things on my "To-do list" move me away from patience, from prayer, and from focus on my priorities.
I know of no greater challenge to myself right now than to not be greatly moved. I seek to stand strong; because when I don't, I reveal how little I truly believe God is.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Ideas this week
A few assorted ideas I’ve come across in the past few days:
1. Never pray for something unless you’re willing to be part of the answer.
- Grant Osborne
Our associate pastor included this as part of his sermon last Sunday. It’s a challenging concept. His context: Christ viewed the people of the world as A)sheep without a shepherd who were both harassed and helpless, and B) the harvest (souls to save). His followers have the command to see people in the same way, and to be as desperate as a harvester is to get in the crop before it spoils. I can pray all I want for this “harvest”; but if I’m not actively doing anything about it, it’s an empty request.
2. What you want has a massive impact on what you’ll allow yourself to believe.
This one came from a recent John Piper sermon I listened to tonight while working out. I fear the number of truths I hold on to because I simply want them to be true, or because it would be inconvenient if they weren’t. And I don’t know how one would be able to see these faulty trughts without the help of a friend. Readers – if you see me believing anything foolish out of convenience or out of an empty desire, I beg you to call me on it.
3. Having dinner with characters.
At the English teachers conference I was at last weekend, one of the questions that teachers pondered was which literary character would they most like to have dinner with. They provided a list of common characters, and from the list I picked Atticus Finch. I think the question goes deeper than who is your favorite character, and I’m at a loss to answer the question as I’ve pondered it from an unlimited bank of possibilities. I also have thought about which person from the Bible (other than Christ, obviously) I’d most like to have dinner with, So many to choose from, but so many flaws as well. I don’t have an answer for either, but I’m really curious what my readers have to say on this. If you’ve got any thoughts on this matter, post a comment.
1. Never pray for something unless you’re willing to be part of the answer.
- Grant Osborne
Our associate pastor included this as part of his sermon last Sunday. It’s a challenging concept. His context: Christ viewed the people of the world as A)sheep without a shepherd who were both harassed and helpless, and B) the harvest (souls to save). His followers have the command to see people in the same way, and to be as desperate as a harvester is to get in the crop before it spoils. I can pray all I want for this “harvest”; but if I’m not actively doing anything about it, it’s an empty request.
2. What you want has a massive impact on what you’ll allow yourself to believe.
This one came from a recent John Piper sermon I listened to tonight while working out. I fear the number of truths I hold on to because I simply want them to be true, or because it would be inconvenient if they weren’t. And I don’t know how one would be able to see these faulty trughts without the help of a friend. Readers – if you see me believing anything foolish out of convenience or out of an empty desire, I beg you to call me on it.
3. Having dinner with characters.
At the English teachers conference I was at last weekend, one of the questions that teachers pondered was which literary character would they most like to have dinner with. They provided a list of common characters, and from the list I picked Atticus Finch. I think the question goes deeper than who is your favorite character, and I’m at a loss to answer the question as I’ve pondered it from an unlimited bank of possibilities. I also have thought about which person from the Bible (other than Christ, obviously) I’d most like to have dinner with, So many to choose from, but so many flaws as well. I don’t have an answer for either, but I’m really curious what my readers have to say on this. If you’ve got any thoughts on this matter, post a comment.
Stories = Life
"The language of stories is the language of life."
This idea is one I intend to explore further later; but for now, the short version. The conference I attended last weekend was the Iowa Council of Teachers of English Fall Conference. It was great to be with a room full of people who also love literature. The above idea was a statement at some point during the conference (and a statement I've read from many authors as well), and one of the speakers took it another step further. She contends that many individuals believe their story is already written. They buy into a certain story, and they expect their life to follow that story. When the real story doesn't go according to the imagined story's expectations, people experience disappointment.
When I think about this, it certainly is in the realm of truth. I hate when I get disappointed by a bad ending in a book or film. If I'm expecting something completely different, I'm not happy. The same is true of life. Many of us are expecting certain endings to the various stories we are involved in. We believe that "happily ever after" and all the romanticized morals from fables apply specifically to us, that the story is already written and we exist only to experience the ending. It's easy to lose our way and get disillusioned when we realize we have no editorial control. It's a real kick in the teeth, actually.
I see this in relation to Christianity in two ways. My first thought is my theory that Christians (or those who profess to be Christians) get lost or doubt their faith when they listen to the wrong story. They believe that being a Christian guarantees them an easy or comfortable life. The frustrating thing to me is that they believe it because that story is so pervasive in Christian environments. The message seems to be that, "If you'll accept Jesus into your heart right here and now by listening to the words that I'm praying right now, everything will be great." I've heard this message over and over. I've heard many testimonies talking about how terrible life was, then the individual remembered who God was, and then all was immediately well. I'm happy for that person, but I think it's a dangerous message.
The story Christ tells is an entirely different one. The world will hate you, He says. The meek will inherit the earth. Your job is to serve. You will be persecuted, and perhaps even killed. I can require your life or anyone else's at any minute of any day. There must be a death of your worldy desires. Give and love sacrificially.
My only point here is that when the wrong message is believed, it will ultimately lead to individuals feeling let down. It will lead to doubt. When the story doesn't end the way they thought it would, they will seek another story.
The other relation to Christianity comes from a Zig Ziglar speech I was listening to in my truck on the way to the conference. He talked about an especially tense Dallas Cowboys football game in which everyone who watched was on the edge of their seat, teetering on the edges of all sorts of emotions during a particularly close and important game. He said he was calm the entire time he was watching. Then he explained why - he watched the game on tape after he already knew the outcome. His point: Biblically-speaking, we know the outcome. It isn't a life of comfort, but it is an eternity of joy. It is fulfillment and purpose and a conquering of death. It is a victory in the only contests that matter. To know the outcome is a much easier way to live.
This idea is one I intend to explore further later; but for now, the short version. The conference I attended last weekend was the Iowa Council of Teachers of English Fall Conference. It was great to be with a room full of people who also love literature. The above idea was a statement at some point during the conference (and a statement I've read from many authors as well), and one of the speakers took it another step further. She contends that many individuals believe their story is already written. They buy into a certain story, and they expect their life to follow that story. When the real story doesn't go according to the imagined story's expectations, people experience disappointment.
When I think about this, it certainly is in the realm of truth. I hate when I get disappointed by a bad ending in a book or film. If I'm expecting something completely different, I'm not happy. The same is true of life. Many of us are expecting certain endings to the various stories we are involved in. We believe that "happily ever after" and all the romanticized morals from fables apply specifically to us, that the story is already written and we exist only to experience the ending. It's easy to lose our way and get disillusioned when we realize we have no editorial control. It's a real kick in the teeth, actually.
I see this in relation to Christianity in two ways. My first thought is my theory that Christians (or those who profess to be Christians) get lost or doubt their faith when they listen to the wrong story. They believe that being a Christian guarantees them an easy or comfortable life. The frustrating thing to me is that they believe it because that story is so pervasive in Christian environments. The message seems to be that, "If you'll accept Jesus into your heart right here and now by listening to the words that I'm praying right now, everything will be great." I've heard this message over and over. I've heard many testimonies talking about how terrible life was, then the individual remembered who God was, and then all was immediately well. I'm happy for that person, but I think it's a dangerous message.
The story Christ tells is an entirely different one. The world will hate you, He says. The meek will inherit the earth. Your job is to serve. You will be persecuted, and perhaps even killed. I can require your life or anyone else's at any minute of any day. There must be a death of your worldy desires. Give and love sacrificially.
My only point here is that when the wrong message is believed, it will ultimately lead to individuals feeling let down. It will lead to doubt. When the story doesn't end the way they thought it would, they will seek another story.
The other relation to Christianity comes from a Zig Ziglar speech I was listening to in my truck on the way to the conference. He talked about an especially tense Dallas Cowboys football game in which everyone who watched was on the edge of their seat, teetering on the edges of all sorts of emotions during a particularly close and important game. He said he was calm the entire time he was watching. Then he explained why - he watched the game on tape after he already knew the outcome. His point: Biblically-speaking, we know the outcome. It isn't a life of comfort, but it is an eternity of joy. It is fulfillment and purpose and a conquering of death. It is a victory in the only contests that matter. To know the outcome is a much easier way to live.
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