Breaking Into Peace

I am bewildered by our current leaders who claim to be Christian and state they want to bring “Christian values” back to our nation. It doesn’t appear the values they espouse and seek are as in line with Christ as they try to make it seem.

In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said, “Beware of false prophets, who come to you in sheep’s clothing but inwardly are ravenous wolves. You will know them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorns or figs from thistles? In the same way, every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit.  Every tree that does not bear good fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus you will know them by their fruits.” (Matthew 5:16-20)

The apostle Paul had something to say about fruit, and freedom (something else these “Christian” leaders also like to talk about a lot), in his letter to the Galatians:

For you were called to freedom, brothers and sisters, only do not use your freedom as an opportunity for self-indulgence, but through love become enslaved to one another. For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” If, however, you bite and devour one another, take care that you are not consumed by one another.

Live by the Spirit, I say, and do not gratify the desires of the flesh. For what the flesh desires is opposed to the Spirit, and what the Spirit desires is opposed to the flesh, for these are opposed to each other, to prevent you from doing what you want. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not subject to the law. Now the works of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity, debauchery, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these. I am warning you, as I warned you before: those who do such things will not inherit the kingdom of God.

By contrast, the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. And those who belong to Christ have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit. Let us not become conceited, competing against one another, envying one another. (Galatians 5:13-26)

Let’s think about these two lists and which attributes are on full display by our current leaders. A quick perusal of these two lists makes it pretty clear which one resonates more.

Let me be the first to say that no one, including me, is bearing the best fruit all of the time. If you followed me around all day, every day, there would be plenty of times you could say “gotcha” and point out one of the behaviors on the first list. But I would hope, and believe, you would see me seeking to embody the fruit of the Spirit far more than falling prey to the works of the flesh.

However, it seems pretty clear our nation’s leaders are leaning wholeheartedly into the first list far more than the second. I won’t run down the whole list, but let’s consider a few examples:

Creating strife trumps peace. We only have to look at the current situation in Los Angeles. While there was limited violence prior to the arrival of military personnel, their arrival increased strife rather than encouraging peace.

Displaying anger trumps joy. I can think of very few times I have seen joy from our current leaders, unless it’s the joy of harming someone they don’t like.

Dissension trumps gentleness. Almost every discussion, disagreement, and debate starts from a place of attacking perceived “enemies” and there is seldom a display of gentleness towards anyone who even slightly disagrees.

Causing factions trumps generosity. Rather than offering the benefit of the doubt or offering a hint of generosity, division, slander, and abuse seem to be the default mode.

Embodying enmities trumps kindness. In a similar vein, hostility towards the other happens every day, All you have to do is glance at social media posts to see that kindness is seemingly non-existent.

A final word of caution and encouragement.

Let those of us who disagree with the current administration’s actions and behaviors be mindful. Let us not fall into the trap of emulating the very behaviors we decry. While I believe it is our moral obligation to oppose those behaviors that are an affront to common decency and humanity, let us not answer fire with fire. Rather, in the words of Paul from Romans 12:21, “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.“

Today would have been my parents’ 60th wedding anniversary; they were married on May 15th, 1965. My relationship with them remains complicated, even though my mom has been gone 26 years and my dad for more than a decade. Nevertheless, I’m thankful they found each other and brought me into the world.

While they never taught me these lessons directly, there are a few things I have learned from my relationship with them (mostly due to good therapy and some challenging self-work):

• Most people are doing the best they can with what they have.
• Trauma is often blindly passed from one generation to the next.
• Love—even in its most imperfect forms—should be honored and appreciated.
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• Offering forgiveness can be a healing experience for the giver, even if the other person isn’t here to receive it.

Happy Heavenly Anniversary to Roland and Paula Steckel.

This year has more weight. Turning 55 feels a little heavier, not necessarily in a bad way, but it terms of perspective. Maybe it’s because 60 seems incredibly close all of a sudden. Maybe it’s because 65 is only a decade away.

Regardless, as I turn 55, I’m taking stock of my life a little more. I look back and see celebration and mourning, victory and defeat, gain and loss, joy and grief. I have made significant progress but also made more than enough mistakes.

As I have gotten older, it has become clear that the more I know, the more I realize I don’t know. Life’s lesson have knocked off some of my sharp edges and whittled away at my arrogance. I’ve grown a deeper appreciation for who I am, embraced myself more fully, and realized I’m both vitally important and insignificant at the same time.

My gift to you for my 55th birthday is a list of 55 lessons I have learned along the way. These have come from many people and experiences. They may or may not all resonate with you, but for me they have open doorways to a life that has been both brutal and exhilarating. I hope at least a few of them can be a blessing you to…

Lean into discomfort
Own your sh*t
Practice vulnerability
Love deeply
Be curious
Embrace failure as learning
Never stop learning
Be your authentic self
Listen well
Laugh often
Dance, even if you’re not good at it
Spend time in nature
Explore the world
Stay active
Develop mindfulness
Be present
Invest in other people’s success
Praise others publicly
Critique others privately
Give back to the community
Ask meaningful questions
Get enough sleep
Transform suffering into meaning
Sit in the silence until it silences you
Accept pain as your teacher
Build authentic relationships
Bring healing into the world
Listen to your life
Plants seeds of grace each day
Nourish your soul
Stare into the night sky
Watch the clouds float by
Stand in the rain
Give credit for success to others
Protect others from harm
Eat healthy food
Ask for help
Care for others
Assume positive intent
Try something new regularly
Advocate for the marginalized
Be kind
Lead with compassion
Receive criticism with openness and grace
Welcome diversity of all kinds
Think about what stories you are telling yourself
Have good boundaries
Give generously
Show up for others
Do what you say you will do
Choose courage over comfort
Ask for what you need
Avoid blame
Develop a grateful mindset
Embrace healthy conflict

One of the leading news stories in recent weeks has been the deportation of people from the United States of America. It appears as though individuals have been taken without due cause and sent away.

While I disagree with the notion that we are a “Christian nation,” I would agree that Christian ideals have strongly influenced our laws and customs. I struggle with understanding how leaders who often lean so heavily on Christianity (or at least use it as a marketing tool), can justify their treatment of even those who are actual criminals.

On this Easter morning, Christians around the world proclaim, “He is Risen!” But who is risen? Who is this Jesus?

The TL/DR version, as the kids would say, is that he was a beacon of hope, compassion, healing, and love. Let’s consider a few of his greatest hits…

“You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall love your neighbor and hate your enemy.’ But I say to you: Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven, for he makes his sun rise on the evil and on the good and sends rain on the righteous and on the unrighteous. For if you love those who love you, what reward do you have? Do not even the tax collectors do the same? And if you greet only your brothers and sisters, what more are you doing than others? Do not even the gentiles do the same? Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.” (Matthew‬ ‭5‬:‭43‬-‭48‬)‬‬

Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?’ And the king will answer them, ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.’ (Matthew‬ ‭25‬:‭37‬-‭40‬)

One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come in your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.” (Luke‬ ‭23‬:‭39‬-‭43‬)

Loving our enemies… welcoming a stranger… clothing the naked… visiting the imprisoned… grace for a criminal… not seeing much of that from our current “Christian” leaders.

While we’re meditating on these words, consider his inner circle. The Twelve included Matthew and Simon. Matthew was a tax collector. (Imagine an IRS agent who collects four times what you actually owe and keeps some for himself.) Simon was a Zealot. (He was likely some version of what we would call a terrorist.)
Two of Jesus’ closest friends were a tax collector and a terrorist. Our “Christian” leaders don’t seem to be modeling that behavior either.

And since today is Easter, let’s take a look at the Resurrection story. Have you ever noticed who first discovered the empty tomb? It’s none of the Twelve. It’s the women. Women in that day were treated mostly as property, but not by Jesus. They were so respected by Jesus and the early Christian community that their discovery of the empty tomb appears in all four Gospels. I don’t believe this is a mistake. It is no stretch of the imagination to say that Jesus and the early Christians created their own kind of feminist movement.

Let’s jump ahead several weeks in the story to the Ascension. Jesus is about to leave and offers his followers these parting words: “But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you, and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.” (Acts‬ ‭1‬:‭8‬)

Jesus did not call us to send people away. He sent us.

A small detour here for legal and political commentary. I do not have a problem with deporting serious criminals who immigrated here illegally. Grace does not mean we don’t have to protect ourselves at times, but that protection is not a blank check to mistreat people and get rid of whoever you don’t like. And even those accused of the most heinous of crimes should still be afforded the due process our laws require.

Back to Jesus’ directive for us. We are called to be sent, not to send. We are to welcome, not exclude. We are to love, not hate.

All of this harkens back to Genesis 12, where God calls Abram. God said to him, “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you and make your name great, so that you will be a blessing.” (Genesis‬ ‭12‬:‭2‬)

The United States of America has certainly been blessed in many ways, but these blessings are not ours to hoard; they are meant to share.

We should not cancel foreign aid. Helping other peoples seems like just the thing Jesus would applaud.
We should not indiscriminately send away those who come here for opportunity. Jesus would seem to greet them with open arms.

We should not discriminate against or marginalize those we disagree with or who are different than us. We should love them as we love ourselves.

We should not reduce or eliminate programs designed to help those in need of food, clothing, and shelter. Jesus said helping them is central to the Kingdom of Heaven.

We should not be sending people away. We should be sending ourselves out into their midst to offer the grace, mercy, compassion, kindness, and love that Jesus offers us.

Those very characteristics got him killed by the empire and religious leaders of his day. Just as he rose from the dead after they tried to kill him, the cause of Christ will continue to be resurrected when those wielding power try to kill it.

This Easter Sunday I find hope in knowing that no matter how much evil, hatred, and violence tries to spread its message, love will always find a way.

He is Risen!

26 years. It was 26 years ago today when my mom died less than a mile from home. The phone call from my dad. The friends coming to my house. The flight back to Ohio from Arkansas. The walk to the corner where she was killed. The friends and family who came to the house and funeral home. The specific moments have blurred with time, but the memories remain.

I was 29 years old when my mom died; she was 58. Before that day, death was a somewhat distant reality. All of my grandparents and an uncle had died, but I had never witnessed death this closely.

But yet, 58 seemed so far away.

Today, on this 26th anniversary of that day, 58 is near. In a few weeks I will turn 55, a mere three years from the total length of my mom’s life.

A lot has occurred over these last two plus decades, more deaths, divorce, and other losses which pushed me to the brink of despair. Death, in its many forms, has become more and more present in my life.

My body feels it, too. My eyes require bifocals. My muscles and bones ache. When I push too hard, the recovery periods get longer and longer.

The slow march of death stops for no one.

Death is painful, physically and emotionally.

Death is relentless, taking things we love.

Death is persistence, none can avoid it.

But death is also freeing.

Death has taught me to let go of things that don’t really matter. The cracks it has created allow me to absorb lessons I was closed off to. The losses have lifted burdens and opened doors.

This is not to discount pain, loss, and grief, but to offer a perspective I didn’t have 26 years ago.

In three years, I will be the same age my mom was when she died. That reality creates urgency and focus.

I worry less about what people think about me and more about how my actions impact them.

I worry less about accumulating possessions and prestige and more about experiences and relationships.

I worry less about gaining power and more about using what power I do have to benefit others.

I worry less about what I can get and more about what I can give.

Yes, the slow march of death keeps moving, but I am learning that this march leads me to a more abundant life.

Ten years ago today, I stood beside a bed holding my father’s hand as he took his final breath. There was a heaviness, but also a peace in the room. Those last few days we had discussions about spirituality and life that we had never had in the 44 years we had shared in this world. It was a serene but sad ending to that chapter of my life, and little did I know in that moment the impact it would have.

My father’s death released something deep inside me, a captivity which had long held me. It would not release its grip quickly or easily, but that day something started changing inside. I still don’t fully comprehend it, but I stand here a decade later witnessing the changes which have resulted.

For years I had taught that resurrection followed death, but that belief had been a mostly academic exercise, something I had taught but not lived. My mother died fifteen years before my father, but I buried many of the emotions from that loss, grabbing even tighter to the need to perform to find value. As I had for most of my life, I hid in plain sight from everyone.

But this death, my father’s death, was something profoundly different. Maybe it was fifteen additional years of life. Maybe it was being free of having to try to earn my parents’ ever evasive emotional connection. Regardless of what it was, his death pointed me down a path that would bring more death, loss, and grief, some of my own doing and some not.

However, death is not the end of the story. While there were many days where I didn’t want to wake up the next morning, I leaned on the hope of resurrection. I went to therapy, engaged in spiritual direction, took retreats, read, learned, meditated, and more. I made many mistakes along the way, but kept going, even when it felt like I wasn’t moving at all.

Part of the last ten years has been traveling through the Valley of the Shadow of Death. But as the psalmist says, YHWH was with me, present in even the darkest of moments, even when I felt forsaken. There were days I cried out the words of Psalm 22, the ones Jesus spoke from the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me, from the words of my groaning? O my God, I cry by day, but you do not answer; and by night but find no rest.”

I have experienced death and resurrection many times over this last decade, and each new birth has brought new understanding, new self-awareness, and new life. I have continued to discover who I am, what my purpose is, and how to engage in more authentic relationships.

Surely, more loss and grief await me, but I am learning to embrace life fully. Death has taught me how important it is to live. Loss has taught me to fear less and appreciate what I have. Grief has taught me to love deeply and pursue the abundant life Jesus describes.

Vulnerability used to terrify me and I would work so hard to avoid it. I feared if people really knew me, they would reject me. What I have learned is that when I am my authentic self, love will naturally flow my way, in ways I never imagined. I have been set free to love myself and the world with reckless abandon.

Ten years ago today, I watched the man who raised me take his last breath. A decade later I can see how his death cracked open my heart and removed unseen barriers, setting me on a journey of healing, discovery, and growth which is far from over.

Every empire has its place in the arc of history, its notch in the timeline. I sense that what we are seeing is the beginning of the end of the American empire.

While the ending of an empire tends to be messy and ugly, it also eventually leads to the birth of something new. So I am both concerned and optimistic.

I am concerned about the short-term, the years of upheaval and conflict which may be coming. Change is always messy and painful.

But I am equally if not more optimistic for the longer arc of human history. Every death and rebirth brings lessons and perspective. And while I don’t believe the next chapter of human history will be without problems, my hope and belief is that it will look better than this one.

For the better part of the 20th Century, the United States was one of the epicenters of the the world. By the end of this century, and maybe sooner, I do not believe that will be true, at least not in the way it has been.

As a nation, we think too highly of ourselves and suffer from self-aggrandizement. In the previous century, we often used our power to help the rest of the world. We seem to be moving towards a more self-centered approach and fear has only added fuel to this fire. As is says in Proverbs 16;18, “Pride goes before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall.”

Whether a person, a nation, or the world, the truth is that often the only way to find healing and rebirth is to experience acute pain first. I believe that is where we are today. Our nation needs to heal, but we may have to navigate some painful times of loss and conflict to experience a rebirth. I’m hopeful what is born looks better than what is beginning to die.

I won’t live to see that day, but I invite you to join me in bringing whatever peace, joy, and kindness we can into the chaos. We must be realists and fight for what is right, but we must also do it in a way that plants seeds for a better and more beautiful tomorrow, even when we can’t see over the horizon.

Thanksgiving is a holiday as complex as our nation’s history. As a child, my classmates and I dressed up like Pilgrims and Native Americans gathering to celebrate a harvest together. What we didn’t talk about was the diseases the Europeans brought with them and the eventual conflicts, massacres, and taking of land from those who once welcomed these strange new visitors.

Several hundred years later, in the midst of the Civil War, President Lincoln declared a national Thanksgiving Day. While our country was at war and a divided nation was consumed by violence, there was a call to give thanks as it started to appear as though our republic would survive this bloody conflict.

We can be thankful while also acknowledging our shortcomings. We can gather around a table and celebrate the hospitality of those Native Americans centuries ago while also acknowledging the very people they welcomed ended up taking their land and displacing them.

We can remember that the Pilgrims originally tried to build community, much like the vast majority of today’s undocumented immigrants, while some today want to indiscriminately deport even those who are contributing in a positive way to our society.

Over a hundred years ago, in the midst of a conflict that nearly destroyed our nation, President Lincoln called for thanksgiving. Even his own story around race and slavery is much more complex than most of us have been taught.

The history of the United States of America is full of contradictions. We were based on the notion of all men (white, property owning males) being created equal, while enslaving different races and disenfranchising women and those without wealth.

Our journey towards the full embodiment of our ideals is far from over. Humans once considered 3/5 of a person now have the right to vote, even as some still seek to limit their voice or diminish their humanity. Women who fought for centuries to have independence from male domination still have some who want to control their bodies. Immigrants, once the lifeblood of our nation’s growth and diversity, is now scapegoated by some as the source of the majority of our problems.

If we want to make our nation great, we should not go back to the missteps of our past, but learn from them and move forward to seek a more perfect union, one that offers everyone a seat at the table. America, in some ways, has always been great, but it’s never fully been what it claims to be.

As we pause today for a day of thanksgiving, it is appropriate to both appreciate the goodness of our nation and acknowledge its more undesirable aspects. Much like everyone person who calls this nation home, our country is a mix of good and bad, light and dark.

I need look no further than the mirror in my bathroom to remember that there is always work to be done and growth to be had. While I am thankful for the ways I have slowly evolved towards being my ideal self, the mirror reminds me I still have much work to do. If that’s true for me, I’m sure it’s true for you. It surely must be true for the collection of human beings who make up the fabric of this good but terribly imperfect and fractured union.

May we learn to lead with kindness, seek understanding, and love our neighbors (even those we might consider “enemies”). Thanksgiving calls us to lean into gratitude, abandon hatred, and extend a hand of reconciliation, healing, and peace.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

I hate having to block people on social media. It takes a lot to push me to that point, but it happened again this week.

I am always up for engaging and challenging conversations, even on social media. Some of my posts are intended to create space for dialogue and debate. Quality discussions about topics and hearing various perspectives and opinions provides opportunities to listen, learn, and grow.

But sometimes people go too far and comments have been deleted for being too vitriolic, attacking someone, or otherwise taking a discussion in an unproductive direction. Occasionally an entire post gets deleted because things have gone off the rails.

People I have agreed with and disagreed with have engaged in this behavior. There comments are quietly deleted with the hope they don’t repeat the behavior. Most people have topics they are passionate about and might get carried away defending them from time to time. Everyone needs a little grace.

What I struggle to understand is why someone would personally attack another human being multiple times, especially in such an impersonal setting.

Even more disappointing and saddening is when people who claim to be followers of Jesus are the ones behind the keyboard.

A strain of hatred has existed in the Christian community for as long as I can remember. The targets have changed over time, but the venom has not. Where did this come from?

I have yet to encounter a situation where Jesus treats anyone as viciously as some people claiming to follow him have treated others. The closest Jesus comes to “attacking” someone is when he gets pissed off at religious leaders who think they are better than others.

Maybe part of the issue is when Christians read Jesus through the lens of Paul rather than the other way around. Instead of interpreting Paul’s words through Jesus’ worldview, Paul’s words are used to interpret Jesus. We might forget or fail to realize Paul was translating a Jewish rabbi for a Greek audience. There have been volumes written about this and won’t try to re-litigate it here.

My point is Jesus always started with love as his motive, not hatred. He grew up in a religious culture where religious leaders often attacked, demeaned, or marginalized . He chose a different way, one aligning with what YHWH intended all along.

Let’s be honest, the other way is easier. When we attack, it’s easier to avoid facing our own shortcomings, allowing us to focus on ways we are better rather than facing at our flaws.

As Jesus said in the Sermon on the Mount, “Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother’s eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye? How can you say to your brother, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother’s eye.” (Matthew 7:3-5)

Looking at other people’s sawdust more than my own plank used to be a more frequent practice for me, making me more arrogant and less self-aware while creating a distance and divide between me and the other. Life has been a sometimes brutal teacher, showing the unhealthiness and ineffectiveness of this approach.

There is still a lot of room to grow. Too many days my judgmental attitude bubbles to the surface and I start focusing on other people’s sawdust. While I don’t always verbalize it, it still impacts how I see others. That is just as “sinful” as the things I find myself criticizing.

Screaming at another person–whether in your head, out loud, or through a keyboard–doesn’t build bridges, it builds walls. While it is important to discuss differences of opinion about thoughts, actions, and behaviors, the attitude and approach we use are critical, maybe even more than our beliefs. How we engage says more about our character than what we might be arguing for. And the how might be so loud that it drowns out the what. It can be counterproductive to our cause. To quote that famous theologian, Taylor Swift,

You just need to take several seats and then try to restore the peace
And control your urges to scream about all the people you hate
‘Cause shade never made anybody less gay

Throwing shade doesn’t make things better. It turns up the temperature, turns people off, and significantly decreases the chance for any honest, constructive dialogue.

You are welcome to disagree with me, or anyone else for that matter, but if you’re thinking about throwing shade, ask yourself this important question: If I throw shade, will it really help shed light on the subject?

During morning quiet time these couple of weeks, I have been reading We Were Made for These Times: 10 Lessons for Moving Through Change, Loss, and Disruption by Kaira Jewel Lingo. This book has offered some good reminders and new perspectives on dealing with challenging times in life.

One of the topics she touches on multiple times is gratitude. As a student of Thich Nhat Hanh, she learned at the feet of one of the greatest spiritual teachers of our time. Her simple yet profound thoughts on the subject of gratitude caused me to pause and reflect on the last eight years.

This provided perspective on the journey traveled, lessons learned, and observations missed. Often, we don’t fully see how we have been changed until looking back on the path we traveled.

A word of caution. Looking back at the past with regret can be paralyzing. If we choose to glance back at where we have been, may it always be with the intent of either learning or loving. Consider the words of the apostle Paul in Philippians:

Not that I have already obtained this or have already reached the goal, but I press on to lay hold of that for which Christ has laid hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider that I have laid hold of it, but one thing I have laid hold of: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal, toward the prize of the heavenly call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us, then, who are mature think this way, and if you think differently about anything, this, too, God will reveal to you. Only let us hold fast to what we have attained.

We are instructed to move toward the heavenly call of God. This is not about “getting to heaven” some day, but rather pursuing the peace, the Shalom, the wholeness the divine offers. That healing and renewal is not found in the past, but in the present. The past can be a powerful servant in our growth, but it can be a terrible master as well.

Notice those final words Paul wrote: “Only let us hold fast to what we have attained.” It doesn’t appear Paul says to never consider where we have been or what we have experienced, but to only keep what we gained in the process.

Regret, shame, and the like are nothing but poison, slowly killing us if we continue to ingest them. But ingest them we often do.

How do we look back, hold fast to what we have attained, and keep moving forward? How do we release the toxic mix of regret and shame without losing the lessons from our darkest chapters?

Gratitude.

In our modern age, it seems we want instant gratitude. We want a book, a podcast, a sermon, or even a sentence to make us grateful. If we could order gratitude with Amazon Prime, how many of us would do that?

Many of us can be like Veruca Salt in Willy Wonka, crying out, “I want it—in our case, gratitude—now!”

That’s not how it works.

Gratitude must be grown, not manufactured. This requires time and patience, attributes many of us lack or struggle to embody.

Gratitude is more like a tree, growing slowly, reaching up, developing over time. It needs nurtured and watered regularly. Its roots must have time to work their way into the soil of our souls. It needs light and air and even pruning sometimes.

This happens through regular practices in our lives. A few of mine have been journaling, meditation, and helping others. Yours might be the same, they might be different.

When it felt like my life wasn’t worth living, I started a gratitude journal, writing down three things I was grateful for each day.

When my mind was racing with unhealthy and toxic thoughts, I meditated, often reflecting on this moment and what there was to be thankful for in the present.

When there didn’t seem to be purpose for life, I found others who needed something and helped them. This offered meaning, reminded me I wasn’t alone, and provided moments of human connection.

Traveling through seasons of immense darkness is scary, painful, and often overwhelming. There were days of utter confusion, immense grief, and bitter anger. I’m not going to lie, it was hell at times and in some moments there didn’t seem to be a way out.

Today, I envision myself standing on a mountain looking back at those valleys. Below are dark, heavily wooded areas filled with fear. I didn’t see it then, but small practices like journaling, meditation, and helping others served as a flickering candle, offering just enough light to take the next step.

Sometimes that next step look a while, like slogging through deep mud. Some days it seemed like the mud was waist or even shoulder high. Occasionally, it felt I was sliding backwards.

Through it all, I kept the candle lit, even if it was dim, trusting what others had said about staying the course.

If you find yourself in a dark woods, I offer this flickering flame to light your candle. If your flame glows brightly, offer it to another in need.

In a world consumed with hatred, shame, and violence, let’s help grow gratitude. With so many feeling hurt, lost, and confused, a little illumination from gratitude can help light the way for us as individuals and a world.