Distractions

One of my favorite parts of the UCC (United Church of Christ) Statement of Faith is the part where it says that God "seeks in holy love to save all people from aimlessness and sin."

That word "aimlessness" made me stop and think for a moment. The word doesn't appear anywhere in the Bible -- at least not the King James Version. Yet, thinking about it, it has always seemed right to me. Lives that have been touched by God are, in fact, not aimless. They are full of purpose.

It seems to me that one way of being aimless is to allow ourselves to be distracted by the worries and obsessions that seem to make the world go round.

For instance, I was poking around on Facebook and ran across a link to a YouTube video featuring members of the Westboro Baptist Church explaining why God hates fags. Then I ran across a quote from that guy who vowed to fast until gay marriage was stopped in Utah. That after reading a series of email correspondence expressing concern about growing support for reparative therapy in certain religious circles. And the recent passage of a series of oppressive anti-gay laws in Nigeria. And on. And on.

The facts in themselves may or may not be distressing (depending on your point of view). What is more distressing to me is the tone of voice in which such tales tend to be recounted -- especially in social media. Usually indignant, annoyed, worried or mocking. Often with a rallying cry to "do something!" or to "make your views known!"

It's easy to get caught in the miasma of angst, especially when the stench gets equally pungent on both sides of any given controversy. I don't agree with Trestin Meacham's view of things, for instance, but I guess he must be pretty upset and scared. I'm not sure what else to make of his behavior or his statements. (Assuming I don't just dismiss him as attention hungry... Though hunger for attention seems to drive a lot of media.)

To me, aimlessness would include letting myself get drawn into these brawls. It would include taking the insults and the assaults personally or letting them worry me.

To me, a purposeful life involves listening first to the "still, small voice." A purposeful life begins with prayer, which leads to knowing who we are and what we need to be about. And then staying focused on that.

I'm not saying we need to be unconcerned about hate groups, or political conflict, or misinformation, or injustice or violence. We live in a broken world, so purposeful lives will very much be about devoting ourselves to making that broken world a better place. But our devotion will be more likely to have an impact if in emerges from deeper, more grounded, more thoughtful selves; from the self-knowledge that comes through listening.

When I listen, things come into focus: my husband, our family, our neighbors, my students my church. The people whose lives cross with ours. Taking care of each other.

How to Recognize Love

The last few weeks have been tough for us. Göran and I came down with a flu a couple of weeks ago, which took us each more than a week to get over. Then, Monday night, Göran started complaining of a blinding headache, and I had to rush him to the emergency room where they treated him and ran some tests to figure out what was going on. We were both exhausted by the ordeal, which it took him a full day to recover from.

In the meantime, it had been snowing. There have been two major snowfalls in the past week, and neither of us were up to getting out and shoveling. Yesterday, I finally had time and energy to do some chores around the house. There were so many neglected chores, it took me a couple of hours. I had "shovel the walk" at the back of my head, mainly because we had a grocery delivery scheduled, and I thought it might be impossible to safely deliver our groceries over the unshoveled sidewalk and up our snow-covered front steps.

Just as I was getting dressed and getting ready to go out and shovel, I heard the doorbell ring, and my heart sank. Our grocery delivery man had arrived. I half expected him to be there to tell me that he couldn't complete the delivery with all the snow blocking the entrance to our home. But when I opened the door, I was amazed by what I saw.

Our front steps, the sidewalk leading up to them, and the entire sidewalk running the length of our house had been shoveled. It was snowing lightly, and a bit of snow had begun to accumulate over the freshly shoveled steps and walk. But it was all still beautifully clear.

The delivery man was there with our groceries, grinning at me through a ski mask.

Whoever had cleared our walk for us had done it just in time for our grocery delivery, and had done it secretly and quietly, without sticking around long enough for me to see who they were or even to thank them.

That is love.

Whoever you are, thank you.