Archive for the ‘love’ category

Pokemon Go-ne

August 5, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                           August 5, 2016

                                  

I confess! I have not played Pokemon Go. In fact, the closest I’ve gotten to playing Pokemon Go was playing…

”Poke-r”…like twenty-five years ago!

I did play a lot of Space Invaders…back in the day!

Oops! I just dated myself…no, I just antiquated myself…like an eight track player!

What I do know, from personal experience and the stories of others, is that just about anything that we do…anything that we engage in, should be done in moderation.

There are exceptions to that rule of life, like loving your family- I don’t think you can love them enough-; or praying- I don’t think you can pray enough, although it seems like it is hard for many of us to pray at all. There are exceptions like those and a few others that, quite frankly, we are not in danger of approaching over usage!

Pokemon Go is the current craze. I’m not in the camp of people who willingly and fervently condemn it. There always seem to be naysayers who trumpet the doomsday message of a variety of things and events. Through the years I’ve heard of a long list of subtle devices of the Tempter to snatch us away from God. The list has included bowling, any kind of dancing where the hips rotate and swing too much (with the exception of square dancing or any version of dancing involving elderly people!), movies, skateboarding, video games, beach volleyball, push-up bras, tattoos, and mascara. Satan seems to have more products than amazon.Com.

Pokemon Go is an amusement. (We’ve come a long ways since “Pong!”) It isn’t a demon. It is taking the industry of gaming to a new place, and new places are scary for those of us who are in love with old places.

The tipping point with Pokemon Go, and with many other amusements, practices, and even disciplines, is when someone is obsessed by it to the point that it takes over their life. Like the guy who was focused so intently upon it that he crashed his car into a police cruiser! That’s probably a little over the edge. Or people who are incurring roaming charges and spending large amounts of money playing the game that started out as being free. Like the Japanese Olympic gymnast who recently racked up $5,000 in roaming charges playing the game.

Like I said earlier, just about anything can become an obsession. Through Scripture the principle is taught over and over again that excess is a main cause for sorrow and pain. Excessive rich food leads to a variety of health issues. Excessive work leads to relational distance and, in many cases, physical ailments. Excessive spending leads to financial ruin. Excessive material possessions leads to a lack of appreciation for the simple gifts of life.

Solomon’s excesses in riches, women, and thoroughbreds caused him confusion with God. The Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes is kind of his trying to find his way again, a sounding out of a life that had lost its meaning.

Moderation helps us keep balance and clarity in our life. Moderation keeps us from chasing after whims and obsessions. It seems like there are people on The Dr. Phil Show everyday who have lost any sense of balance in their lives, and so they make the decision to go on national television and let everyone else see how screwed up they are. I’ve never seen anyone on that program who is having a hard conversation with the host because their life is in balance.

Balanced lives do not make for good reality TV!

I’m going to try to download the Pokemon Go app today and experience it a little bit. I want to try it out some…not too much! I will not allow it to take me away from the 2,000 piece jigsaw puzzle currently covering our dining room table that I am obsessed…I mean, that I am putting together…gradually and in moderation!

Church Life

August 3, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                            August 3, 2016

                                           

“He touched me….oh, he touched me! And oh, the joy that floods my soul! Something happened, and now I know, He touched me and made me whole.”

The congregation closed the song with several heart-felt “amens” from the twelve gathered souls for Sunday worship. Most of them smiled in the warmth of the words, the truth of their meaning.

I told them the Mark 5 story of the woman who had a feminine hygiene problem for twelve years and had been “ritually unclean.” She came to where Jesus was and risked a touch of the edge of his garment. She just wanted to be clean. She was emotionally distraught, felt spiritually unworthy, and had been afflicted for so long that she had become almost invisible to people. The story was retold to ears that were listening and heads that were nodding in agreement.

“People may not be ostracized for the same reasons today, but you know, we have a way in the church of making people feel like outcasts and minimizing certain ones because of this, that, or the other. My guess is that most of us have been made to feel like we don’t matter at one time or another.”

“And the thing is…when we’re gathered as the Body of Christ, that’s where we should always feel loved, accepted, and valued.”

They were with me as we journeyed this story. Their church had been larger at one time, but things happened. People moved away because of jobs, kids grew up and went off to college and didn’t come back, and some of the saints had passed on to the next life. Those were all journeys that were a part of life, the things that just happened. It was the other losses that kept wounding the few faithful. Words that had been said in the heat of the moment, unforgiving spirits and non-repentant hearts, power plays and personality conflicts. All those things that people expected in other places, but cut more deeply when they were a part of the community of the King.

But sometimes a church needs to go deep in the valley to see the sacredness of the fellowship. Pain sometimes makes the good days more cherished.

“How might we touch one another today as the Body of Christ? Who in our community is like the woman who just longs for a touch of hope, a touch of healing? Who might we invite to join us in this sanctuary of brokenness as we seek to be a place of hope?”

The words were being felt in the midst of the congregation’s soul.

“How might the words to that song that we sang be experienced in our lives, and the lives of those around us?”

“Amen.”

It wasn’t the end of a sermon, but rather the transition to reflection and action. Prayer concerns were shared. One person shared a deep concern that was weighing upon her. We stopped to pray, but before we prayed we gathered around her, laid hands upon her weary shoulders and touched her with care. Tears streamed from her eyes and ran down her cheeks on a path towards healing.

There was a wholeness that was coming back to her, and in that wholeness was also a sense of wholeness in the midst of “the gathered.”

Church life can often be the death of us, but sometimes a church near-death experience is their resuscitation to a new life and a deeper hope.

The Marvel of Little Ones

July 30, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                         July 30, 2016

                                     

I am a grandfather…three times over! An 8 year old professor in the making, a five year old CEO, and a 16 month old politician. The past two days “Grammy”, our dear Michigan friend Janet, and I have been watching the Three Miniature Musketeers since our fourth grade teaching daughter “Mom” went back to begin the new school year. Since my grandson often dresses up as Superman, Ironman, Batman, or Captain America I guess it would be more appropriate to refer to the three as “The Avengers!”

The two older kids entertain one another most of the time. We just have to be the Supreme Court Justices for decisions that can’t be resolved through sibling negotiations.

But the 16 month old! She is the Energizer Bunny with a diaper on!

And I marvel at her! I am amazed at just about everything she does, including the amount of poop that can fill her diaper! How can so much come out of someone so small?

I am amazed at how she can go from laughter to having a tantrum in the space of a few seconds…and then back again!

I am amazed at how she greets me with her pronunciation of “Granddad” every time I arrive in the room after being gone for…Ohhh!…maybe two minutes.

She amazes me with her determination, carrying around the handbag her mom has passed down to her. The handbag is about half her size, and she is determined to lift it and place it on the couch that comes up to her chest. Grunting all the way, she stays on task until it is heaved on to the couch…and then she promptly takes it back down, walks around for a few seconds, and then repeats the whole task again.

I am amazed at how relational she is. She is drawn to where the person or persons are, and when she is in the room she garners all the attention.

I am amazed at her capacity for mimicking. Grammy said the word “pizza” while she was in the room- not to her, mind you!- and she voiced her agreement with the word by shouting “PIZZA!” When her brother and sister dance in the middle of the living room, she dances. When her brother sits and reads she is prone to sit and “kind-a read”, also.

She stuns me with her understanding of boundaries. She stands in front of the DVD player and video game system and says to no one in particular “No no!” as she shakes her head.

I’m taken back by her impatience. She sits in my lap as I read a book to her, but if the pages aren’t turning fast enough she turns them for me…and even takes the book and throws it down! That’s my clue that we are done with that one! “Move on, Granddad!”

I am amused at how I can be her personal playground, as in climbing tree! Slap a sign on me that says “Jungle Gym!”

And what occurred to me in the midst of my two days of amazement was the fact that our Father God is just as amazed at everything each one of us does! God is still amazed at what a 62 year old grandfather does…good and bad! He is amused by our humor, and amazed by our words of wisdom. He’s taken back by our ability to figure out situations, make mistakes and learn from them. His heart is warmed by the depth of our relationships, and the care we offer to one another. He’s taken back by the amount of crap that is a part of our lives!

In many ways my amazement about everything our 16 month old granddaughter does is a reflection of how our Creator sees each one of us. He closely watches because he deeply loves!

Camp Tears

July 24, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                             July 24, 2016

                                            

I finished a week of church camp yesterday and fell into bed last night. The last morning was filled with goodbye hugs and tearful farewells. Tears, in fact, were a frequent occurrence at camp this week.

It started on Sunday afternoon as parents dropped off their children and teenagers. One young mom didn’t show her tears until she was sure her eight year old son was running towards an activity on the basketball court. Since this mom is my daughter I was standing beside her and saw the tears running down her cheeks in front of a smiling face. I gave her a hug of reassurance. Her tears were tears of releasing, as she saw her little boy arrive at one of those life points where he will spend a week away from home. I remember that kind of tears. After we dropped off our youngest daughter, Lizi, at the University of Sioux Falls for her first semester, Carol and I don’t remember seeing Nebraska on the way home because of the rain storms in our eyes. And yet they were good tears…tears when you realize your child has grown to another defining point. We release them and we cry our eyes out.

There were also tears of laughter numerous times at camp. I laughed when I was inspecting the elementary camp cabin for boys. One room whose occupants were eight, nine, and ten year olds had four bottles of AXE body spray and body wash. You know…AXE, that product whose commercials show women attacking a man who sprays his body with it. We laughed as we thought of fourth grade girls attacking a good-smelling four-foot tall boy. In the elementary camp the only attacking that was being done happened if someone tried to butt into the Snack Snack line. As room inspector I HAD made the point about good-smelling rooms being one thing I looked for in determining which of the boys’ rooms was the best. The second morning I walked into one room to see one boy walking around waving a deodorant stick in the air with the idea it would be like a room air freshener.

In that same cabin there were also tears from hurtful words. One boy came to me with tears running down his face and said, “Bobby has been saying that our room smells bad because I’m farting!” In deep sorrow he bellowed, “I’m not the one who is farting!” I counseled him back to health, although in the midst of his anguish I think there was a moment of flatulence.

There were tears from the deep wells of our soul. One middle school boy, who has Down’s Syndrome and hearing problems, got up on the last night at the talent show and sang a song as he played the guitar. Although the lyrics didn’t rhyme his original song talked about how much he loved his counselor, the amazing grace of God, and how much he missed his dad. The campers gave him a standing ovation as a number of them wept. They had seen how this young man had made the week at camp special and had offered his own unique personality of gentleness and caring.

There were tears of pain, as a number of campers shared their hurts and worries. Several had pent up emotions about parental health concerns. The camp environment and the trusting in their counselors allowed some of them to release the emotion. The dam broke as they allowed the anxiety, the bottled-up stress, to flow out.

Pastor Bill and me…better known at camp as “Pastor Bill Squared”…sat and listened with a mom on the last morning whose husband had gotten a grim diagnosis on the cancer he has battled. It was a time for tears, and angry tears, and even thankful tears. Her husband was first diagnosed six years ago. She is thankful for the six years, but there is sorrow in the moment as they face the uncertainty of the future.

And then there were my tears, as I dealt with the pain of that moment…as I saw my grandson at different times during the week being so engaged in the activities, focused on what was being taught, feeling free to dance in the midst of the elementary camp worship (So vigorously that he lost a screw in his glasses!)…as I watched counselors relating to their campers, getting to know them in ways that, you might say, had them deeply rooted in their lives.

I shed tears of thankfulness for what was and the journey these kids and teens had taken during the week. It’s amazing how in just a few hours time tears can flow from the same eyes out of thankfulness, sorrow, joy, and laughter.

Camp tears drench our souls and soak into our memories.

Sand City

July 22, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                          July 21, 2016

                                          

    A week of church camp is filled with incredible moments and discoveries. Quite often the adult counselors get surprised in delightful ways by the things their camper kids say and do. One of those happened with our elementary campers the past two days. In the midst of the sand volleyball court a few of the kids, and a couple of their counselors, started making sand creations. It started simple! A two story house about a foot wide and a foot long.

Then a second house…a few more houses to make it begin to resemble a village, and then a house that started to resemble an Aztec temple or a four-layered wedding cake…one of those!

A few more campers joined the fun, and suddenly instead of Bust, Colorado (Population 2!), the sand creation started looking like a city…and ancient city, since a couple of the artists started building a sand wall around it.

Then another sand city started to be built on the other end of the sand volleyball court! Not wanting to look exclusive and uninviting, a few of the first “sanders” built a sand road between the two sand cities.

This morning there were close to thirty campers and counselors digging in the sand…creating, working together, laughing, and talking. It was not a planned activity, but, instead, became a movement. What an experience to see knees in the sand sharing ideas on what the next building phase might be. I’m pretty sure they put a Sonic and a Starbucks in there on one busy sand street! Interestingly enough, no sand schools were built by kids who are seeing their summers come quickly to an end.

One of the high school counselors got wind of a plot that a few of her students her devising  about going through and destroying Sand City and “Sand City West” and writing “Godzilla was here!” in the sand. She talked to them about being encouragers instead of destroyers. She conveyed to them the fact that the kids involved in the sand creations and construction would be crushed by a few seconds of mischievous fun. They understood…and the Sand Cities got larger. A few of the high school students even “got sandy!”

It made me think of the violent acts that have left their imprint across the country. How easy it is for people to respond with destruction in mind…instead of coming alongside and working together. How easy it is to tear down instead of build up? Sad City is becoming too prevalent!

How easy it is for churches to tear down and destroy instead of building places of grace and compassionate love! There are too many Sad Churches! I am perplexed as to why!

The reality of the weather at our 8,700 elevation camp is a late afternoon rain storm. What took hours to build, we knew, would be flattened by showers. The wise leaders explained the situation to the young sanders. They suggested that since the kids were the builders that they should be the ones to have the opportunity to “disassemble.” The campers stood along the sideline of the volleyball court and on the signal moved forward like a swarm of locusts, breaking down the fragile creations.

Rain came a couple of hours later.

Today, I fully expect, reconstruction will take place. Like rebuilding after a major storm…one sand house at a time!

The Release of a Kid’s Pain

July 20, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                            July 19, 2016

                                     

Kids carry a lot of baggage with them! Their parents baggage!

In my years of being involved in camping I’ve seen a number of kids, elementary through high school, who are given permission during their week of camp to let go of the pain.

Parents worry about their kids. What I’ve come to realize is that kids worry about their parents! Parents are just grown-up kids who make mistakes that have ripple effects that are more devastating.

There are kids at camp this week who see the relationship of their parents as being like a tightrope walk, ready to topple over any second. There is the anxiety of living in a home that has the everyday potential of blowing up. They live with the stress of uncertainty- how long will they be living under one roof with both of their parents?

It is unfair in many ways to think that kids can just be kids when they live in a war zone of verbal assaults and relational explosions.

And so they fret! This week some of them are worried about what their parents will do while they are away, what errors in judgment they might make, what decisions between right and wrong they will face…and choose the wrong one!

They are kids who are being made to wear the pants of the family, and they are tired of having to be the adults!

On the other hand, kids can be ministers in smaller bodies. Sometimes their acts of service are even more genuine and authentic than the adults around them. Tonight I saw a group of elementary-aged kids who were asked to do something that was healing and loving. One of their counselors lost his best friend on the day camp began as a result of an accident. This adult was grieving, and still trying to be there for his campers. Tonight the campers all gathered around him and prayed for him. They laid their hands on him as their hearts went out to him. His was a pain that they were willing to help with.

Kids releasing their pain, and kids helping someone deal with their pain…one way that involves deep hurting, and the other way that involved a prayer for healing.

After the group prayer they all fell on top of the wounded counselor in their version of a group hug. The counselor wouldn’t have had it any other way.

The “Uh” Moments

July 18, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                          July 18, 2016

                                         

My life has been littered with moments of extreme stupidity. Like when I tried to compliment one young lady I was attending college with. Never make comments about a young lady’s figure on the first date…or second date for that matter. I said something that gave her the impression that she was flat-chested and big in the hips. My intent was to tell her that she was slim in the waist-line and nicely-proportioned in the bust-line!

Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!

It was one of those moments when the incensed look on her face made me go “Uh!” The date ended quickly after that. In case you’re wondering…and are really slow in perceiving things…there was not a second date!

“Uh moments” are those times when we realize how error-prone, insensitive, or clueless we really are.

I’ve had a lot of those “Uh moments” with God. Times when I doubted his majesty, occasions where I’ve missed his hand in the midst of events, trials when I’ve wandered on my own.

I was thinking about that the other day as I was reading some scripture stories. Scripture is populated with “Uh moments.” For example, Moses stood before God with his excuses about not being qualified to go and speak to Pharaoh. Although “Uh…” is not a word that the stammering Moses uses, it can be easily lip-synched into his mental verbiage at the end of the discussion.

Martha had an “Uh moment” with Jesus when she moaned and groaned to Jesus about her brother.

“Master!” she said, “If you had been here my brother wouldn’t have died!”

Knowing Martha’s opinionated personality, I don’t think those words were said to Jesus with a soft understanding voice. Jesus tells her that he is the resurrection and the life, and that the one who believes in him will live even though he dies.” Martha gives kind of a half-hearted “okay…” to him. They proceed to the tomb of her brother and Jesus tells those around it to remove the stone.

Martha’s housecleaning experience has her then say to Jesus, “By this time there’s a stench! He’s been dead four days!” Like an obnoxious adolescent wanting her parents to get a life, it’s like Martha is saying to Jesus “HHHeellllloooo!” And Jesus looked her in the eye and says, “Didn’t I tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?”

And Martha said, “Uhhh…”

Our “Uh moments” come when our doubts are completely doused by a shower of God’s power, like the 450 prophets of Baal being completely embarrassed by the prophet Elijah. Our “Uh moments” also come when we experience a tapestry of God’s artistic touch. This week I’m at a church camp outside of Woodland Park, Colorado. I’m overwhelmed by the view of Pike’s Peak and surrounding forests and peacefulness. I stand on the deck each day and literally say “Uhhh…”

“Uh moments” remind us of our humanity and mortality, and they also nudge us with the assurance of the love of God.

God loves me no matter what, no matter my capacity to doubt him and no matter whether I say the wrong words to the wrong person at the wrong time. He loves me despite myself!

And to that my lower jaw drops open and I resemble Jim Carey in the movie Dumb and Dumber with the one syllable grunt…”Uhhh…”

Jesus Coffee: Part 5

July 15, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                       July 15, 2016

                                

I waited for an explanation. Jesus looked at me and then he said, “Everyone is wrong at one time or another. There is a difference between being wrong about a decision, or even an action, and being wrongly evil.”

“Explain a little bit more for me.”

“When you said those words to your wife that were insensitive and hurtful you knew that at the core of your being that you were wrong. If you lied to someone that is a wrong that can be righted through confession and repentance.”

“I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

“However-“

“Okay, cross me up with a however!”

“However…there is an evil that needs to be identified for what it is. There is a wrong that needs to be called for what it is…pure evil.”

“Like?”

“Racism is pure evil.”
“So a racist is someone who is pure evil.”

“No…a racist who is COMPLETELY close-minded is pure evil. Someone who is a racist but can be brought to a point where he or she recognizes the wrong of their position is different.”

“And when you encounter that what do you do? Throw some holy water on the person, hold the cross in front of you and say “Be gone, Satan!”?

“You recognize evil for what it is, and the wrongness that it brings to the world. There are some people who have sold out to the Deceiver. I wish there was a nice way to put it, but there isn’t.”

“Here’s a hard question then. If I have a longing to be loved at the core of my being what’s to keep me from yielding to the wrongly evil in order to be loved?”

“Great question! You must remember who the Lover of your soul is. The Deceiver is the lust-er of your soul. Your Father God is the Lover of your soul. Intimacy with the Lover of your soul is the greatest protection against the lust-er of your soul. Distance from the Lover raises your vulnerability to being swayed by the lust-er.”

“That sounds like a delicate balance.”

“It can be if you allow it.”

Our time was ending. The temperature of my second cup of coffee had dropped to lukewarm.

“You need to go, Bill?” Jesus asked.

“Yes, it’s time to get on with the business of the day. There’s that word again…business…busyness.”

“Be safe. Let me know when you want to share a cup of Joe together again. You know I’m always available.”

“Yes, Lord!” I got up from my seat and said to him, “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“Yes! I know…and I will always love you even when…you forget!”

Jesus Coffee: Part 4

July 13, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                         July 13, 2016

          (Parts 1-3 of this ongoing conversation can be viewed at “wordsfromww.com”)                                      

                                  

I brought the cup with a new rising of steam back to the table and sat back down in my chair. “You didn’t need anything?” I asked Jesus.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Where were we?”

“You were looking inside of yourself and making a discovery. You said you believe that at the core of your being is the longing to be loved.”

“Yes, I’m not sure that is my final answer, but I think that hits on it. I long to be loved.”

“So what do you think that means?”

“I think it means I have a need to be seen as a person of value, to be appreciated, and to belong.”

“And on the other side of things, perhaps you do not want to be considered worthless, cast aside, and hated.”

“I guess that is a fair summary.”

“And in saying you long to be loved…you have hit on what is at the core of most people.”

“Do I get a gold star or a tall trophy?”

“No, but you do get to come to that point of understanding that may help you as you journey forward.”

“A trophy would help me remember more.”

“Sorry!”

“But go back to what you said a few minutes ago. Authenticity is the convergence of who I am with who people say I am.”

“Right.”

“There are a few people that I know who don’t really care for me. How does that play out with who I am?” If I have a longing to be loved, why don’t I get along with everyone?”

“A simple answer…because of the fallen nature of the world. Perfection in our relationships went out the window with the arrival of sin.”

“And a more complicated answer?”

“You’re screwed up most of the time.”

“Thanks! That doesn’t sound complicated, that sounds harshly matter-of-fact!”

“Well, you see, Bill, that longing to be loved that is at the core of who you are, often gets pushed to the side by the longing to be right. Being right carries a spirit of superiority in its backpack.”

“But what if I am right and the other person is blatantly wrong? Am I to just ignore what is wrong?”

“No and yes!”

“Don’t give me that, Jesus. Didn’t you once say “Let your yes be yes and your no be no?”

“Glad to see you’re familiar with my sayings. What I’m saying is that when there is a wrong the righting of the disagreement should be the healing of the relationship, not one person being superiorly right and the other being humiliatingly wrong. Ever had a disagreement with your wife?”

“Sure, many times over!”

“Do you remember the resolving of the disagreement and what happened?”

“Yes, I usually gave into her.”

“I doubt that. Do you remember a time when the two of you were in different corners of an issue and you came together to a common understanding, compromise, or even a place of forgiveness?”

“Yes, I remember a time when I said something to her that was totally insensitive and she lashed out at me.”

“And what happened?”

“I apologized.”

“But there was something else that happened in the midst of that. You sensed that you had wounded her deeply. She has a need to be loved just as you do, and you knew that you had bruised her at the core of her being.”

“You’re right! I was ashamed of what I had said, and I longed to turn back time for a few minutes and have the scene played out in a completely different way.”

“You longed to make the relationship whole again, didn’t you?”

“Absolutely! And after I apologized about what I had done to her I just wanted to hold her.”

“You longed to be loved by your lover again.”

“And that’s why that moment stands out in my mind so clearly. I remember that coming back together, that reconnecting after the forgiveness and healing…the grace she showed me that was not deserved.”

“But what if the other person is blatantly wrong. You said not to ignore it.”

“I did.” He looked at me with a hint of sadness and paused.

(TO BE CONTINUED)

Jesus Coffee: Part 3

July 12, 2016

WORDS FROM W.W.                                                            July 12, 2016

                                        

(This week “Words from WW” is a continuing coffee conversation between W.W. and Jesus. To read Parts 1 and 2 go to “wordsfromww.com”)

“Pharisees for Jesus…you’re right! It doesn’t flow out of your mouth like Jews for Jesus.” I took a sip of my coffee that had lost its steam.

“Kind of like ‘Criminals for Christ’! The only attention it draws is not positive attention.”

“Bigots for Baptists!”

“Turn or Burn Peace Advocates!”

“Pentecostal Prostitutes! I guess there are a lot of titles for groups that it’s just as well that they don’t exist.”

“Exactly! Let me ask you a personal question.”

I hesitated even as I was saying okay.

“What name or title would people give to describe who you are, or, better yet, to describe what you’re about?”

“Wow! That’s a little deep, isn’t it?”

“You must have some idea.”

“I guess I haven’t really thought about it too much. It’s not one of those things that occupies my mental pondering.”

“Maybe not, but it’s a question that you have based most of your life on.”

“How so? If I don’t think about it how do I base my life on it?” I recognized that I asked the question with a bit of indignation in my tone.

“What I’m saying is that most of what you do and what you say arises out of the unspoken question you hold inside of you. That is, how do I want people to see me? If I want to be seen as a jerk the things I say and do spill out of that. If I want to be seen as a saint I consider my words and actions accordingly.”

“Wait a minute, Jesus! If what you’re saying is true where is there true authenticity? What is my true self if who I am is based on how I want others to see me?”

“In other words, what is at the core of your being?”

“Yes, I guess so.”

“And is your core being described with the same words that people describe you? That’s how you know whether you are living authentically or not.”

“Yes, I think that would be correct.”

“So if you don’t know who you really are it’s impossible to live authentically?”

“Well, impossible is not a word that is usually associated with you, but I’d give a qualified yes to that.” I had a sense of fear about where this conversation was going, about what I might HAVE to discover about myself.”

“So who are you when no one is looking? What do you think, what do you say to yourself, what do you hope for? Here’s another defining question! What is the longing of your soul?

“Good Lord, Jesus! You keep asking me even more questions that are hard to answer.”

“Knowing who you are happens to be a journey powered by reflection.”

“I’m…I’m a person who longs to be loved.”

“Is it hard to say those words?”

“They sound so simple, so uncomplicated, and yet…yes, it’s hard to say them.”

“Would you like to get a refill before we go any further?”

“Absolutely! I need another cup to help me move ahead.”

(TO BE CONTINUED)