Making out small print on the sides of medicine bottles is becoming a chore for me. In just the last few months, I’ve caught myself doing the “middle age arm dance” as I move objects closer to me and further away, trying to find that point where I can actually focus on them. At 43 years old, presbyopia is beginning to have its way with my eyes. I’m still fine with the newspaper, hymnal, and other things I read on a regular basis, but the small print on medicine bottles is a doozy.
Because I also have an astigmatism in both eyes that is not corrected by my contacts and because that is worsening in my right eye, I wasn’t sure whether my problem was presbyopia or the astigmatism. On a run to Wal-Mart last night, I decided to grab a pair of +1.00 diopter reading glasses and see if they would take care of most of my blurriness on small objects. I then grabbed a medicine bottle and turned to its fine print. Sure enough, it was as though the font size on the bottle doubled. It was clear as day.
I went ahead and invested about eight bucks in a cheap pair of reading glasses. When I got home, I told my wife, Nadia, about my little experiment. (Truth be told, she needs them, too!) We laughed a bit about how we are at a stage in life we had thought of as being “old” what seems like only a few years back.
Later in the evening, it struck me. What an injustice! What an unfair world this is!! Here I was wearing +1.00 diopter reading glasses over -6.00 and-6.50 diopter contacts for my myopia (nearsightedness). It doesn’t take any math genius to know that +1.00 + -6.00 ought to be -5.00. In other words, shouldn’t it be that as presbyopia begins to set in for me, my nearsightedness gets better and I never need those annoying little reading glasses. Instead of worrying about moving up to +2.50 or 3.00 diopter reading glasses over the next few years, shouldn’t I be looking forward to my nearsightedness getting steadily better over the next decade? But no, that is not to be the case for me. Instead, I may well reach the point over the next ten years where I am up to 10 diopters of correction between the positive and negative correction needs I’ll have in the lenses I’m carrying around.
But this is where it really gets good, isn’t it? What a pathetic little “injustice” to get worked up about, right? I mean, how many people in the world today would think of wanting to add positive and negative diopters together to get improving myopia when they have such easy and inexpensive (relative to their salaries) access to corrective lenses? The slightly larger injustice is that there are so many people worldwide who don’t have access to or can’t afford corrective lenses of any sort. Larger than that is the number of people who suffer from easily preventable forms of blindness—people whose vision can never again be restored but whose vision could have easily been protected.
Even greater are all kinds of injustices caused by corrupt, inept, or tyrannical governments. Or what about the injustices caused by a sometimes cruelly competitive marketplace that can lift up one region, country, or product, only to destroy it a short time later? What about children being raised by adults whose lives are in one form of chaos or another? What about war or drought-ravished regions where death becomes endemic? What about people imprisoned by the racial, ethnic, or gender-based discrimination of others? What about hard-working folks whose contributions to the common good are counteracted by the drag caused by selfish or lazy people who stand in the way of progress?
I have a pair of reading glasses now. I’ll probably have multiple pairs to leave in different places within a short period of time. But I can see, and for that I thank God. May I enjoy seeing the smiles on my kids’ faces, the beauty of the world around me, and the ideas put on a page in print. May I learn to be better at offering thanks to God for these good things and so many more. May I not be distracted by renaming minor annoyances as “injustices.” May I learn to see the truly unjust things around me and in me. And may I be humble and committed enough for God to use me to address the true injustices in our world.
Grace & Peace,
Dan
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
Is Christmas Worth Celebrating?
Historians reveal to us that the earliest record of Christ’s birth being celebrated on December 25th was not until 354 A.D. and that it is unlikely Jesus’ nativity was widely celebrated on that day in December any earlier than 300 A.D. They invite us to hear that the date we celebrate Jesus’ birth and many of the things we use to celebrate it—large festive meals, the giving of gifts, and visiting friends—were all brought over from the Roman festival of Saturnalia. Additionally, they inform us that such things as greenery, acts of charity, and lights were brought over from the celebration of the Roman New Year. These celebrations in the dead of winter came at (or near) the winter solstice, the time when the dark nights had reached their longest and were beginning to shorten again.
Discovering that some of our hallowed traditions have very pagan roots can be a disconcerting thing for us as Christians at first. If we borrowed this symbol or that idea from pagans, what else did we borrow? What else is “untrue”?
The earliest Christians seem to have made no effort to remember the day of Jesus’ birth. Instead, it was his resurrection that they celebrated as they gathered in homes weekly on the day after the Sabbath—“the Lord’s day.” That practice became so widespread that centuries later, Christians would come to assume that Sunday always was the Sabbath, having forgotten that the Jewish Sabbath runs from sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday.
During the Reformation, beginning in the 16th century, Christmas was rejected by some Protestants since it was not a celebration advocated by Scripture. The Pilgrims who came to the New World also rejected it, even outlawing it in Boston for a time. In our day, it has become so highly commercialized that Christians routinely feel the need to remind one another “the reason for the season.” Recognizing that the celebration of Jesus’ birth was not a part of early Christianity, that it borrows heavily from pagan festivals, that it was rejected by Reformers and Puritans, and that it is being “re-paganized” by its commercialization today, is it even worth continuing to celebrate Christmas?
I think it is. One reason is that it points to deep truths about God. While the date of Jesus’ actual birth is certainly contested, a deeper reality is revealed in our celebration. God comes to us not just in the bright sunshine of our successes, but in the darkest nights of our failures. God enters humanity not just in the warmth of our expectant receptiveness, but in the coldness of our indifference. God enters the human condition not in strength and power, but in poverty and helplessness. In our darkest moments and despite our coldest rejections, God comes to us and God is with us. Emmanuel. Amen.
Discovering that some of our hallowed traditions have very pagan roots can be a disconcerting thing for us as Christians at first. If we borrowed this symbol or that idea from pagans, what else did we borrow? What else is “untrue”?
The earliest Christians seem to have made no effort to remember the day of Jesus’ birth. Instead, it was his resurrection that they celebrated as they gathered in homes weekly on the day after the Sabbath—“the Lord’s day.” That practice became so widespread that centuries later, Christians would come to assume that Sunday always was the Sabbath, having forgotten that the Jewish Sabbath runs from sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday.
During the Reformation, beginning in the 16th century, Christmas was rejected by some Protestants since it was not a celebration advocated by Scripture. The Pilgrims who came to the New World also rejected it, even outlawing it in Boston for a time. In our day, it has become so highly commercialized that Christians routinely feel the need to remind one another “the reason for the season.” Recognizing that the celebration of Jesus’ birth was not a part of early Christianity, that it borrows heavily from pagan festivals, that it was rejected by Reformers and Puritans, and that it is being “re-paganized” by its commercialization today, is it even worth continuing to celebrate Christmas?
I think it is. One reason is that it points to deep truths about God. While the date of Jesus’ actual birth is certainly contested, a deeper reality is revealed in our celebration. God comes to us not just in the bright sunshine of our successes, but in the darkest nights of our failures. God enters humanity not just in the warmth of our expectant receptiveness, but in the coldness of our indifference. God enters the human condition not in strength and power, but in poverty and helplessness. In our darkest moments and despite our coldest rejections, God comes to us and God is with us. Emmanuel. Amen.
Gratitude in Surprising Places
You’ve seen the images dozens of times. A family has just lost its home or a community has just been devastated by a natural disaster. The cameras are rolling, and the person who has just lost everything says, “We’re just grateful that we still have one another. Everything else can be replaced.”
If we heard that line once or twice, it would be one thing. We hear it so often, though, that it seems to actually be a common, and sincere, response to surviving a disaster. There’s something totally illogical about it. We work hard to build a home and accumulate the things that go into it. Then we lose it all in one devastating day, and our response is one of gratitude.
How can that be?
Perhaps a big part of it is simply relief about what we didn’t lose. Even if that’s the case, though, I think it represents that we’ve developed a new mindset, a different perspective, a transformed way of thinking. In that moment, we are not focused on what we don’t have and trying to acquire more. At that time, we aren’t taking anything for granted, as though possessions, health, or even life are guaranteed to us. Coming out of a traumatic event that shakes our world, we tend to get a great deal of clarity about what really matters to us and what doesn’t. We also realize, perhaps for the first time, that everything is a gift to be enjoyed and shared.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to get to the same place in life—a place of deeply felt gratitude—without having a near-death experience? Perhaps it’s possible. Perhaps it’s something we can nurture into maturity like a gardener gently cares for her plants.
Two elements seem to be central to gratitude. The first is a recognition that the things we enjoy in life aren’t guaranteed to us. Health, economic security, freedom from pain, a home to live in, children, even life itself—none of these things are guaranteed to us. Ministry with people who have lost some of these things can remind us of their fleeting nature. As we care for others who are in need and become more aware of the suffering others endure, we find overturned our assumptions that the many things we enjoy will last forever. Like a farmer turning over the hard soil with a plow, this ministry can prepare the soil of our own hearts for seeds of gratitude.
A second element that seems central to gratitude is to focus on our blessings rather than focusing on what we lack. Immediately following a natural disaster, people often focus on the question: “What’s left? What do I still have?” To take an assessment of everything that had been lost would put them into a deep depression. Instead, they instinctively look for what remains, what will provide hope for the future, what will give them a reason to keep living.
We can choose to “count our blessings” at any time. The goal is obviously not to quantify them—to try to determine our “net worth” or something akin to that. Instead, the goal is to give thanks for each of the people, situations, and things in our life that bring us joy or comfort. We may even find that things or people that cause us discomfort but help us grow qualify as blessings and should be named as such.
Our grandmothers were right: “counting our blessings” has a way of making our hearts more grateful. Hearts filled with gratitude tend to overflow with generosity, peace, love and compassion. Such things are medicine of the Holy Spirit for a broken and hurting world.
Consider how you can reach out to people who are hurting. Consider forming a habit of cultivating gratitude. And then enjoy waiting for the harvest to come in!
Grace & Peace,
Dan
If we heard that line once or twice, it would be one thing. We hear it so often, though, that it seems to actually be a common, and sincere, response to surviving a disaster. There’s something totally illogical about it. We work hard to build a home and accumulate the things that go into it. Then we lose it all in one devastating day, and our response is one of gratitude.
How can that be?
Perhaps a big part of it is simply relief about what we didn’t lose. Even if that’s the case, though, I think it represents that we’ve developed a new mindset, a different perspective, a transformed way of thinking. In that moment, we are not focused on what we don’t have and trying to acquire more. At that time, we aren’t taking anything for granted, as though possessions, health, or even life are guaranteed to us. Coming out of a traumatic event that shakes our world, we tend to get a great deal of clarity about what really matters to us and what doesn’t. We also realize, perhaps for the first time, that everything is a gift to be enjoyed and shared.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to get to the same place in life—a place of deeply felt gratitude—without having a near-death experience? Perhaps it’s possible. Perhaps it’s something we can nurture into maturity like a gardener gently cares for her plants.
Two elements seem to be central to gratitude. The first is a recognition that the things we enjoy in life aren’t guaranteed to us. Health, economic security, freedom from pain, a home to live in, children, even life itself—none of these things are guaranteed to us. Ministry with people who have lost some of these things can remind us of their fleeting nature. As we care for others who are in need and become more aware of the suffering others endure, we find overturned our assumptions that the many things we enjoy will last forever. Like a farmer turning over the hard soil with a plow, this ministry can prepare the soil of our own hearts for seeds of gratitude.
A second element that seems central to gratitude is to focus on our blessings rather than focusing on what we lack. Immediately following a natural disaster, people often focus on the question: “What’s left? What do I still have?” To take an assessment of everything that had been lost would put them into a deep depression. Instead, they instinctively look for what remains, what will provide hope for the future, what will give them a reason to keep living.
We can choose to “count our blessings” at any time. The goal is obviously not to quantify them—to try to determine our “net worth” or something akin to that. Instead, the goal is to give thanks for each of the people, situations, and things in our life that bring us joy or comfort. We may even find that things or people that cause us discomfort but help us grow qualify as blessings and should be named as such.
Our grandmothers were right: “counting our blessings” has a way of making our hearts more grateful. Hearts filled with gratitude tend to overflow with generosity, peace, love and compassion. Such things are medicine of the Holy Spirit for a broken and hurting world.
Consider how you can reach out to people who are hurting. Consider forming a habit of cultivating gratitude. And then enjoy waiting for the harvest to come in!
Grace & Peace,
Dan
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