How, then, shall we live?

We are in the fifth week of our "Christianity in the 21st Century" class and all I can say is, "Where did the time go?" Seems like every time we get together as a group, we gave just begun. I guess we could even ask that question about our lives in general, couldn't we? As I get older, the days seem to run together. I look around at all the children I have taught who are now adults; I see my children getting older and taller and I wonder, "Where has the time gone?"

Time has been the subject of countless books, magazine articles - there's even one magazine called Time - scientific studies; time touches every part of our lives and we almost seem to have no control over it.

I remember in college reading from a poet, Andrew Marvell. His poem, To a Coy Mistress, has a famous line, "time's winged chariot/always at my back". For Marvell, time has a life of its own, and it's chasing after all of us as quickly as it can. Escape from time's grasp is virtually and really impossible. So, how shall we, then, live if our lives are controlled by time's death grip?

The ancient Ammas and Abbas of the desert, as well as their contemporaries who live as monks and nuns, realized that within the present, the past and future are wrapped up. For mystics and the more spiritually-inclined among us, there is an increasing understanding that time can be dealt with in positive ways. Perhaps the most positive, constructive way of dealing with time means living in the moment without past cares or worry of the future. What would life look like if more people lived for today, cared about what happened right now, and let go of the past or the hope of the future?

Perhaps this is not what Phyllis Tickle means with her question, "How, then, shall we live?" I wonder, however, how this mystical understanding of time could shape the question of how we "emerge" as the Church of the 21st Century. What do you think?

See you Thursday!
Tim

Is preservation living?

It's really a good question: when I try to preserve myself, am I really living? You know, if I reserve all of my time an energy for saving my "self", do I have any time or energy left over to live?

I struggle with "self" preservation all the time. I want Tim to be important; I want Tim to have what Tim wants; I want, I want, I want. In the end, will I find emptiness where a life could have been lived? As I struggled with that a few weeks ago, I read a very good reflection from my book by Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening. Here's what he said on October 17:

"Early in life, I learned to protect myself, and this meant that I became very good at catching things. In fact, I never went anywhere without my catcher's mitt. No matter what came at me, nothing could surprise me. And while this saved me from unpredictable assaults of my family, and even helped me in my odyssey through cancer, it eventually had a life of its own. Everything - birds, women, friends, truth - was intercepted by the quick reflex of my mitt. Eventually, nothing got through, and the very thing that helped me survive was now keeping me from being touched. The softness and wonder of the world was vanishing from my life. (my emphasis)...We are, each of us, in a repeatable war between defending ourselves from hurts that happened long ago and opening in innocence, again and again, to the unexpected touch of life."

Wow! Those are important words to ponder. They also could help us in our quest to understand one another as we go through the "changes and chances of life". In our class of Emergence Christianity, we have encountered many challenges to our sensibilities, some challenges to our ways of thinking, even a few challenges to personal definitions of "church". If I had to sum up the challenges we have had in the class, it would probably look like Mark Nepo's reflection.

Think about it: when we meet challenges in life, the first thing we do is try to protect the "self" - make sure I am safe from harm. After some time, I start to realize that I am safe and I can start to reach out. The problem is, when I start to get comfortable, some new challenge comes along and I start the "self" preservation process over again!

How can the Church help us to let go of "self" and allow the "softness and wonder of the world" from vanishing? I am not sure how that happens, but I think it happens most often in a life-giving, life-transforming community - hey, isn't the Church one of those kinds of community's? It sure is! How could the world change if the Church lived out its call?

What do you think?

Peace,
Tim