Doubt less

“Doubt is uncomfortable, certainty is ridiculous.”  ~Voltaire, French philosopher and author (1694-1778)

The conversation was not going well at all. The waitress was still refilling our coffee and its effect was making me jittery. “Why don’t you just admit that I’m right?” I was saying. “Because you’re not right,” my friend responded. “You just don’t want to admit I’m right,” I retorted. “Do you want me to admit you’re right, even if I don’t believe you are right?” he fired back.

My friend John liked to refer to himself as a pagan. “If I call myself an atheist, that would mean I have to admit to some higher power in order to dismiss him,” he would say. John’s initial question had been, “Why are you so sure there is a God?” “Why are you so sure there isn’t?” had been my clever response.

This had been the sum and substance of our conversation for the last hour or so. It had started innocently enough over the discussion of whether or not there was a God. 

At first, I had patiently tried all the “pat answers,” suggesting that we see God in nature and that the logic of the universe implied a higher intelligence at work. Finally, I bemoaned the possibility that if mankind were actually the highest authority, our world was really in trouble. 

Try as I might to remain calm, the conversation had quickly turned into a playground spat. Logic had left our table a while ago and now it was just a civilized argument, verbal arm-wrestling.

 “Why can’t you accept that I prefer to live with my doubt rather than accept your beliefs?” John concluded. My response was to ask the waitress for the check.

The great French philosopher and devoted Roman Catholic, Rene Descartes is credited with the statement: “I doubt, therefore I think; I think, therefore I am.”  One of the recent criticisms of the church is that we are “doubt-less.”  In other words, the church seems bent on eliminating doubt, rather than helping people process doubt.

Put another way, some people see wrestling with doubt as a good thing. At first blush this seems counter–intuitive.  Isn’t doubt an obstacle to faith?

I suggest that the strength of our faith rests as much on our doubts as it does upon our sureties. When we are sure of ourselves, we stop searching and therefore stop growing. As Descartes observed, doubt makes us think. 

Being in doubt  causes us to continue to process information, rather than discard it when it seems contradictory to what we want to believe.

Doubt opens us to new possibilities and forces us to continue to consider, to search, to look deeper… Shakespeare referred to doubt as the “beginning, not the end, of wisdom.”

Doubt is not the enemy of faith. Rather, it is a necessary ingredient in a strong and resilient faith, a faith that can weather the test of living it.  After all, if everything were assured, clear and without ambiguity, there would be no faith!

To rephrase Shakespeare: Doubt is the beginning of faith, not the end of it.

Dear God: Help me use my doubt to find you in new and deeper ways.

“Doubt is not the opposite of faith; it is one element of faith.”  ~Paul Tillich, German born American theologian and philosopher (1886-1965)
©2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship”  All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the “© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.

Fruit of Our Labor

 

“It's no good pretending that any relationship has a future if your record collections disagree violently or if your favorite films wouldn't even speak to each other if they met at a party.”  ~ Nick Hornby, English novelist, essayist and screenwriter (b 1957)

The cold arctic wind whipped across the cornfield creating whirling snow devils as it went. The temperature was plummeting and with winds gusting to 50 mph the wind chill factor would easily fall into the minus 60-degrees range. 

Outside our apartment building I could see traffic creeping up and down Annie Glidden Road, people just trying to get home so they could hunker down for the night.

The local markets would be busy with customers buying beer, chips and dip for their private “storm parties.” Based on what I saw out my window, they would need to get home soon before the roads became impassable.

When I accepted a teaching assistantship at Northern Illinois University in DeKalb, Illinois, I had no idea the weather could be this inhumane. It could be downright scary.

Nor had I intended to bring a new bride here to live. But that’s exactly what I had done. We had met in southwestern Pennsylvania, both from small towns. After a relatively short courtship, I had proposed over summer break and then returned to DeKalb for my second year of graduate school, leaving my betrothed behind to plan the wedding.

We were married just before Christmas in her family church and I brought her with me when I returned for second semester. Teresa promptly found a job as a social worker in a local sheltered living facility and workshop.

This evening she had gotten home before the storm broke, but in a previous storm, a few weeks earlier, I had nearly lost her. She had had to be rescued from a snow drift by two men on cross-country skis.

I turned from the window to look at her. Teresa was curled up on our fake leather JC Penney discount couch, sound asleep. She lay in front of our 13-inch black and white portable which illuminated her face with flickers of light. “Would she have agreed to marry me if she had known this would be her fate?” I wondered.

Returning to my vigil at the window, I pondered our first three months of marriage. Nobody had really expected our marriage to last, but so far so good – or not so good considering the weather. Was everyone right? Would our marriage fail, or would we beat the odds and prove our critics wrong?

Today, 35 years later I’ve stopped worrying. Except now we live in sunny southern California.

In today’s world everything is about convenience and efficiency. We want things easy, fast and simple, even when it comes to relationships. Speed and Internet dating, drive-through wedding chapels, and open and/or disposable marriages are fast becoming the rule rather than the exception.

Someone we meet once is referred to thereafter as a friend, and social media gives us the ability to “friend” anyone we want. Immediately!

But relationships are not as simple as picking up fresh fruit at the local grocery store. Relationships are more like growing the fruit tree in the first place. Trees produce fruit because we nurture them, giving them our time and attention.

Furthermore, it is not simply the fruit we produce, but the joy we experience in the growth and nurturing process.

In our tiny little one bedroom apartment in DeKalb, Illinois, Teresa and I were 900 miles from the nearest family member. As a result, we had only one another to rely on, and by a lot of trial and error, we grew together, learning to love one another and to trust one another.

Real, mature, relationships are grown, not manufactured. The fruit of those relationships are borne of time and effort; they are not simply and efficiently acquired.

As stewards of God’s time, growing relationships is time well spent.

Dear God: Teach me to grow and nurture my relationships with others.

“You can talk with someone for years, everyday, and still …connections are made with the heart, not the tongue.” ~ C. Joybell C. , American author, poet, and essayist

©2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.

“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the “© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message. 

Surrender

“The first step toward change is awareness. The second is acceptance.”  ~Nathaniel Branden, Canadian psychotherapist and writer (b 1930)

John woke up Monday morning and realized he no longer had a job. He had been laid off two weeks earlier, but this was the first day he had truly grasped his situation.

Mechanically he reached out and hit the snooze button, but try as he might he could not “snooze.” It was 6:00 am, the time John normally arose to get ready for work. His internal clock was resistant to any other schedule. Finally, he sat up.

Sitting on the edge of the bed for what seemed like a very long time, his hands splayed over the edge of the mattress, John contemplated his situation. What was he going to do?

He had worked for the same company for years. “I really don’t know anything else,” he thought to himself. They had enough money to get along for a while; but then what? Finally, he slipped into his flip-flops and shuffled downstairs.

Diana, his wife of 22 years, had already left for work. On the counter was a pot of fresh coffee and a hand-written note: “Love you, see you tonight.” John poured himself a cup and stood there sipping it, pondering the note. “How could she love an unemployed man?” His thoughts stung him, even before he finished them.

He took his cup of coffee to the kitchen table and slumped into his usual chair. Staring at the flowered table cloth he pondered his fate. He had never been without a job. How could he face anyone ever again? In his mind, he had just become a statistic.

As he was sitting there staring, first at his hands and then at his coffee, his eyes fell upon his wife’s well-worn prayer book. John had never much liked religion. He thought it a huge waste of time. His Sundays were more productively spent playing golf with clients or the boss, or getting chores done around the house.

Diane had patiently encouraged him to come to church with her, but he only begrudgingly went on Christmas Eve and Easter Sunday. “I’m a CEO,” he used to say; “Christmas and Easter only.”

Now he had plenty of time, for anything, even God. He picked up the book and carefully examined the cover. Flipping through the pages he noticed Diana had marked various passages. “Wonder what she thought was so important.” Suddenly he closed the book and tossed it onto the table and started to get up. “I have better things to do right now, like look for a job,” he thought.

From deep within him came a quiet little voice. “Better things to do? Who looks for a job at 6:30 am? What are you really afraid of?”

John reached out tentatively and picked up the prayer book a second time. This time he actually opened it to a page somewhere in the middle of the book. His eyes stopped on a line covered with bright yellow highlighter.

“I am with you always until the end of time” it read. “Hope that’s true,” he thought.

“Surrender” is not a word most people find appealing. It evokes thoughts of giving up and giving in. It is a word for losers, because winners would never surrender. Ever! Only wimps surrender. And yet, within the Christian consciousness surrender can be a path to personal peace, happiness and enlightenment.

Case in point, “personal image management” is a difficult and time-consuming pastime in which many of us participate. We try to affix the “who we are” to some firm foundation, whether it is a career, a title or past successes in our lives. The problem is that none of those things are ever truly “firm”.

Many of us define “who we are” by our careers. If you ever want to test this idea ask someone: What do you do? More often than not they will respond with their job title, rather than an explanation. If our sense of self is tied to a job, and the job goes away, we experience the angst and disillusionment John experienced.

How can surrender help us? How can we find joy and serenity by just giving up?

Part of the answer is that “surrender” has several meanings. They are both subtle and beneficial meanings other than simply giving up. To surrender something can mean giving up the unnecessary things in our lives, like surrendering our weapons (our defense mechanisms). Perhaps the most significant meaning of surrender is to give ourselves to something, wholeheartedly, and without reservation.

The season of Lent is a time of surrender. It is a time to give up the false images of “who we are” in favor of “who we really are”, a time to stop relying on power, prestige or position to define what we are and a time to give ourselves over to our Lord and Creator. Lent calls us to surrender to Christ. He will always be with us - even until the end of time.

“Change is the essence of life. Be willing to surrender what you are to what you could become.”  ~Author unknown

©2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.
“90 Second Stewardship” is a reflection on being a Christian Steward in a secular and sometimes harsh world. This reflection is written by James E. Carper, of Simi Valley, California. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the “© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.

Graven Images

 

“The image is one thing and the human being is another. It's very hard to live up to an image…” ~Elvis Presley, American singer and cultural icon (1935-1977)

We exited the Old City through the Zion Gate. The Church of the Dormition rose up to our right. Its unique circular structure and wide blue dome is hard to miss. The church commemorates the “falling asleep” of Mary, the mother of Jesus, before she was summoned to heaven for eternity, according to the Catholic and Eastern Orthodox tradition.

The structure was impressive, but not our reason for coming to the top of Mount Zion. We were on our way to see David’s tomb, which is also the site of Cenacle, believed to be the location of the Last Supper.

The walkway was flanked by high stone walls. Near the entrance to the tomb we passed a large, bronze-colored statue of King David.

He was seated on a cloth-covered pedestal and was appropriately depicted holding a huge harp to his right side with both hands. The statue was also impressive, but our tour group rushed by, anxious to see the famous room of Christ’s last meal.

Forty-five minutes later, having visited “the room” and having stood in front of the purple, velvet-draped coffin, we were headed back along the same walkway.  The Statue of David loomed up to our left. This time we stopped to admire it.

The statue had been donated about three years earlier, by a Russian Christian, Andrei Bykov. It was intended as a gift to the Holy City. At Bykov’s request, his statue was located near the entrance to the site of the legendary king’s tomb, on Mount Zion.

The figure’s bearing was regal. He wore a crown and had a sculpted beard. The image was more like a Greek God than a Hebrew Monarch.

What was disturbing was David’s face. The nose of the statue had been broken off. The tour guide explained it had happened less than a month after it had first gone on display. Since that time, whenever it was repaired, within a few weeks it was broken again.

“Who’s doing it?” asked a man with a Bronx accent and wearing a Yankees baseball cap. “Arabs?”

“At first we thought it might be members of one of a couple of Muslim factions within the city,” the guide explained patiently. “But, this didn’t seem to make sense. Placing a statue of King David near the entrance to his tomb seems to make logical sense.” “And it wasn’t in a Muslim area or near a Mosque.”

“Finally, surveillance cameras were set up in hopes of catching some images of who was doing it.”

“Who was doing it?” someone else asked.

“A group of conservative Hebrew students.”

We all looked at each other in amazement. “Why?” someone finally asked. “Wouldn’t they be honored to have a beautiful statue of King David like this near the entrance to his tomb?”

“One would think so,” replied the guide. “except in Exodus it says, ‘Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.’ According to their faith tradition, placing a graven image of the greatest Hebrew leader ever, near the entrance of his tomb isn’t a compliment, it amounts to sacrilege – an insult!”

Both the Hebrew and Islamic faith have prohibitions against statues and other such “graven” images. At first blush, this seems extreme in light of our modern culture in which we are deluged with images. To us, “image” is important, or so it seems. The question is: Which image?

One of the most common criticisms of the Barbie doll was that she promoted an unrealistic body image for young women, leading to a risk that girls who attempted to emulate her would become anorexic. Similar concerns have been leveled regarding the body of Lara Croft in the video game, “Tomb Raider.” Movies, the media and advertising all project similar unrealistic images of how we should look, act, and think. One could argue these are all “graven images.”

Where our image comes from is important. Our image of ourselves is often driven by our desires, rather than by who we really are. We try to become what we want to be, or what we think we should be, rather than who God made us to be.

This translates into our relationships as well. We often love people for who we want them to be, trying to “make them over” into what we desire. This image may simply be the distorted reflection of who we think we are or who we desire to be.

Think for example of the tremendous pressure brought to bear on self-image by gangs and cliques. These groups send a very clear message: “Adopt our image or be ostracized.” “Be like us or perish.”

    

Without question, defacing a statue is vandalism; but do we not, in some ways, “de-face” ourselves. By expending our efforts to become a someone or something other than the person God made us to be, we may be vandalizing ourselves.

God made us in His own image. It’s hard to improve on that.

Dear God: Help me to become the person you created me to be.

“Your life is shaped by the end you live for.” ~ Thomas Merton, Anglo-American Catholic writer and mystic. (1915-1968)

©2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.

“90 Second Stewardship”  All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the “© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.

Running on Empty

“Carpe Diem! Rejoice while you are alive; enjoy the day; live life to the fullest; make the most of what you have. It is later than you think.” ~Horace, Ancient Roman Poet (65 – 8BC)

It was early Thursday morning and I was sitting at my desk staring at the screen of my laptop. I wasn’t reading anything or even seeing what was on the screen. I was just staring.

Three days into the work week and I was already physically, mentally and emotionally spent. Why was I so tired? It wasn’t as if anything major had gone wrong. So what had brought me to this moment of “burned out” inactivity?

It had been the accumulation of many irritations, misfires, grievances, resentments and setbacks. “It’s the ants that getcha, not the elephants,” a friend of mine used to say. Well the ants were having their way with me this week. I had been staked to the ant hill and smeared with honey.

I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed, eyes closed, wondering what to do about this stress-induced log jam of inactivity. My thoughts drifted back to a meditation class I had taken.

“It’s not the work, it’s the worry,” the instructor had said. “We spend so much time thinking about how much we have to do that we don’t do anything.”  The answer to the problem is to simply do something, start something, just put one foot in front of the other.

My eyes started to refocus on the screen. I leaned forward and began to tap away slowly at the keys. There was a letter which needed to go out in the morning mail.

There is an oft-told tale about a journalist who went to visit a famous Zen master. While the master quietly served tea, the journalist talked about Zen. The master poured the visitor's cup to the brim, and then kept pouring. The man watched the overflowing cup with surprise. “Stop, It's overfull!” He blurted out. Calmly the master put down the pot. “You are like this cup,” the master replied, “How can I explain Zen to you unless you first empty your cup.”

The problem many of us experience in life is not that we “run on empty.” In point of fact, most of us “run on full” or overfull. We fill ourselves with worrying about what we need to do while at the same time trying to focus on what we are currently doing. 

Most of us have a bad case of the “Igotta’s”: I’ve gotta get this done and I’ve gotta get that done. By mentally and emotionally carrying around all the things we think are important and that we need to get done, we impair our emotional resilience. Minor inconveniences become major catastrophes because they put us “off schedule.”

Running on full also means having no room for anything or anyone else. When our lives become a laundry list of unnecessary things that we believe are necessary – things which must be done – we often miss the really important moments: the chance meeting with a friend, a meaningful conversation with a loved one, or even an encounter with our Creator.

Many of us see our Lenten practices as a throw-back to a bygone era without any practical application to today’s modern world. “What are you giving up for Lent?” we ask, expecting a clever answer in response. And yet, most of us desperately need to give some things up, before we just give up completely.

Lent, gives us the opportunity to empty ourselves; to make space for more important things.  What if, for example, we gave up technology one day a week and spent the time with loved ones like our children?  What if we spent one night a week with our spouse without television? What if we set aside quiet time in the morning for prayer or just quiet meditation?

When we empty ourselves, we give ourselves room for the important things: love, compassion, concern, and room for a loving God. This helps us regain the emotional resilience we all need.

My exhaustion that Thursday morning was not due to a lack of stamina (of figuratively running out of gas). Rather, my exhaustion arose out of my trying to manage everything at once; to be responsible for everything at once, to do everything at once.

This Lenten season, I plan on doing my best to try “running on empty” and I am inviting you along for the ride. Together, I’m sure we will find we can go a lot farther than we thought. 

Dear God: Help me remove the clutter of my life.

“Lent is the time to make new efforts to be what we say we want to be.”  ~from Sister Joan Chittister's book, The Rule of Benedict: Insight for the Ages

©2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.

“90 Second Stewardship” is a reflection on being a Christian Steward in a secular and sometimes harsh world. This reflection is written by James E. Carper, Director of Development, Southeast Ventura County YMCA; Thousand Oaks, California. All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the “© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.”

E-dging G-od O-ut

“Anytime there is a struggle between doing what is actually right and doing what seems right, then your ego is interfering with your decision.” ~Darren L. Johnson, President/CEO InsideOut Learning

Though it was early Thursday morning, my perfectionist/ego brain was operating at max capacity. The very thought of a “national webinar” was thrilling. My voice and thoughts being broadcast to people throughout the US was just so gratifying and energizing. It had taken weeks to perfect the slideshow. Even so I spent the next three hours rehearsing and re-rehearsing, making sure things flowed just so.

Finally, fifteen minutes before “show time” the technician checked in, the application uploaded, and the person responsible for introducing me was signed in. At 10:05 am PST we launched. The hour passed quickly and before I knew it I was answering questions and accepting congratulations for a job well done.

My sense of self-worth soared. Throughout the remainder of the day I frequently found myself sharing my experience with others. Of course the “sharing” was often accomplished by introducing the subject into a conversation to which it was irrelevant. No matter; I had done my first NATIONAL webinar. That night I slept soundly secure in the fact that I had done a “good job.”

Early Friday morning, I arrived at the office, coffee in hand. After I hung up my dress jacket, booted up my computer and checked my messages I settled into my routine.

I customarily did my morning prayers shortly after I arrived at the office. It was quiet at this early hour and free of distractions. I slid my keyboard tray open. Because I use a laptop, the sliding tray was available for other things. It was a particularly good place for my prayer book which could remain open, available and out of sight.

The tray slid open smoothly and quietly. I stared down at the open book, trying to comprehend what was staring me in the face. “Wednesday, Evening Prayer” it read at the top of the page. That was odd. It should have read: “Thursday, Evening Prayer.”

Slowly, I began to realize what had happened. The morning before I had been so focused on preparing for my “big moment” and in the afternoon, so exuberant over my fleeting “15 minutes of fame” I had forgotten to say my prayers. As a Deacon candidate, these prayers were more than just time well-spent with my Creator; they were a requirement.

I proceeded to do my Friday Liturgy of the Hours slowly and carefully. Having finished the prayers, I still felt the need to do something to “compensate” for my oversight. The daily Gospel readings are available online.

Keying to the correct screen, I began to read from the Gospel according to Mark. Suddenly, I stopped. There in the middle of the page it read: “What profit is there for one to gain the whole world and forfeit his life?”

“Thank God,” I thought to myself. “Message received.”

Ego may very well be the most destructive force on earth. Without a doubt it is one of the greatest enemies of human kind. It starts wars, fuels racism, justifies bad behavior and destroys relationships. It is what makes some people “believe that Earth is the center of the universe and humans are the most important species, the supreme expression of creation” (Ann Druyan, American author and CEO).

Ego feeds the need for approval, the desire to control and a willingness to judge others. From a steward’s point of view, our ego wastes our time. My ego distracted me from spending time in prayer; but it could have just as easily distracted me from my family, my friends or helping someone in need.

Ego is, first and foremost, an addiction. What separates addictions from other forms of behavior is that addictions require constant feeding and attention. A little does not go a long way. The gratification of today’s hard won honors quickly dissipates, requiring new honors to replace them.

The real irony is that, deep beneath an inflated ego, we usually find an insecure or fearful spirit. There are no superiority complexes; only inferiority complexes, pretending to be superior.

If I had spent my time in prayer that morning, trusting in God, and the abilities he has given me, I probably would have done just a well, and without all the stress.    

Our egos can never be satisfied, but, through God, we can come to live a satisfying life.

Dear God: Today I will trust in you and not in me.

“It is the nature of the ego to take, and the nature of the spirit to share.” ~proverb

©2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.

“90 Second Stewardship”  All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the “© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.

Value Added

“The life I touch for good or ill will touch another life, and that in turn another, until who knows where the trembling stops or in what far place my touch will be felt.” ~Frederick Buechner, educator, writer, theologian (b 1926)

Mary and Margaret sat quietly sipping their soup. Sunlight poured in through the large glass windows of the dining room. Though it was a holiday, there were a number of people quietly eating their holiday luncheon, some sitting by themselves. It was surprisingly busy at the care facility for a day when businesses were closed and families were gathering to celebrate. 

At the ripe old age of 99, an age she stubbornly refused to admit, Mary had outlived her family. Her husband had passed away years before and her son only recently. There was grandchild somewhere, who appeared at random times, allegedly for “gas money.” Margaret was simply unsure if she had any living relatives, but the staff confirmed there was no known family and no one visited her. 

The soup bowls were removed and the salad brought. “Would you like turkey or roast beef?” the server asked with a warm smile. Mary chose turkey and Margaret roast beef, but only after a lot of questions about how it had been prepared. Mary talked about her husband-- her handsome husband -- and their life together. But it was her son’s death she was thinking about. “No one should have to bury a child.” Her tone was almost instructive. 

After some gentle questioning, Margaret revealed she was from California. She had been a school teacher, but had never married. “The children I taught were my life.”

So went the meal: gentle questions and much repetition. 

We were finishing the cheesecake and coffee when Mary began to ponder something. “Where is your family today?” she asked, holding us with her inquisitive gaze. Teresa and I looked at each other, surprised by the question. 

“Our families are all back east,” I responded finally. Our daughter’s husband’s family lives in Virginia, so the two of them are back there spending the holidays with them. It’s just the two of us this year,” I finished with a smile. 

Mary considered my answer for a few moments. “So you’re here because you needed someone to spend the holiday with I imagine.” 

My response stuck in my throat. I was about to tell Mary and Margaret that we had made a special effort to spend the holiday with them. That we had even brought them presents. I wanted her to know we were good people who were trying to do a good thing for their benefit.

“Yeah, that’s about right,” I said finally. “We didn’t have anyone to spend the day with so we came here. Thank you for sharing this meal with us.” 

Mary and Margaret looked at each other and smiled. “Glad we could be of help,” Mary responded. “You’re pretty good company, too.”  

“Think we could get a little more coffee over here?” she said to the server.   

Many of us view “being of service” to others as fulfilling their physical needs. And the importance of this type of service should not be diminished. We should feed the hungry, clothe the naked, shelter the homeless, heal the sick and visit the lonely. There is, however, a deeper need that we often overlook while ministering to the physical needs of others. 

We all need to feel valued and have the sense that our lives count for something. Often we judge our value by our careers. Productivity equals value. As a consequence of people living longer, we long out-live our careers and, for many of us, also the thing which gave value to our lives. Our seniors do still add value to the world, and we need to take every opportunity to remind them of that.

Teresa and I were being good stewards when we chose to spend time with Mary and Margaret on that holiday afternoon. And it would have been easy to take credit for what we were doing. But the greater gift was the one Mary and Margaret gave us – the vision to see that they were good stewards, too – sharing themselves with us and reminding us that every life and all time is a gift.  Ours and theirs!  

Dear God: Help me to add value to the lives of others. 

“Helping, fixing and serving represent three different ways of seeing life. When you help, you see life as weak. When you fix, you see life as broken. When you serve, you see life as whole. Fixing and helping may be the work of the ego, and service the work of the soul.” ~ Rachel Naomi Remen, clinical professor, holistic healer, speaker and writer.

 

©2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.

 
“90 Second Stewardship” All rights are reserved. You are welcome and encouraged to forward this e-mail to family and friends provided the”© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” is included along with this message. Organizations, whether for or non profit, are required to receive written approval before reproducing these reflections. If written approval is given the “© 2012 James E. Carper. All rights reserved.” must be included along with this message.