Seriously considering what you actually care about most can be challenging. Previously, we recognized that it helps to spend enough time asking yourself why you care about what you think you care about in order to get to the most solid foundation. Sometimes it even helps to talk through things with someone else who can respond with open and detached curiosity. (It isn't as helpful to have a conversation with someone who has a tendency to be closed-minded and judgmental.) When what you care about seems not to be life-affirming, you can ask yourself what you're afraid of, work to dismantle irrational fears, and dig deeper to get to what really matters most to you.
Even when we get past the temptation to run what we most deeply want through an "acceptability filter", and we're able to say what we really care about with clarity, our ever-active anxious minds can still give us reasons to hesitate. Sometimes we second-guess and question our passions before we even have a chance to be boldly honest about them. Other times, we test the waters of bold honesty about what we want with someone and our first attempt receives a less-than-satisfying response. So we keep what we most want to ourselves, out of shame or fear, which means much less of a chance to create something meaningful.
A little bit of inward questioning is helpful. That's how we're able to dig deeper and get to the heart of what we really care about. It's important for us to ask ourselves, "Is this life-affirming? Or is this coming from some anxiety or fear I need to deal with?" Our minds ask other questions, though, and some of these inner questions hinder our ability to live into our deepest values. We second-guess ourselves in multiple ways, but two common ways we sabotage ourselves are through thinking our deepest desires are too small or too big for us to care about. Both of these tap into our tendency to feel shame, and as Brene Brown has pointed out in a number of books and TED talks, shame is a destructive force that limits our ability to live authentically.
We might think what we care about is too small and insignificant for us to take pride in. We might feel ashamed that our personal creative life dream isn't big and dramatic and world-changing. All around us we see stories of people accomplishing incredible things. The role-models we have for living into a compelling vision for our lives are people who make international headlines or change thousands of lives. Our deepest life-affirming desire might seem much less significant by comparison -- maybe only affecting our neighborhood or one community.
What we fail to realize is that any life-affirming vision we cast for our lives is going to have a positive influence on the world around us. We know that our actions have ripples -- that what we do has an impact on people we never meet. And yet, when we allow our minds to drag us into (inaccurate) shame about how little and insignificant our goals are, we forget all about how much of our influence is unseen. We may never know how our life-affirming actions in one small part of the world influence an entire system toward greater wholeness. The point is not that we make a big splash, the point is just that we get in the water. If everyone in the world decided to live with greater intentionality and chose one "small" and accessible life-affirming purpose to live into, humanity would thrive like never before. Your job isn't to find a way to change the world. Your job is just to live into your life-affirming values in a way that is deeply meaningful to you. And that begins with bold honesty about what you really care about most. There is no personal life dream that is too small. Everyone who lives on purpose makes a difference in the world.
Our shame is similarly evoked when we dream big, except that instead of being ashamed that our vision is not enough to make a difference, we become ashamed that we are not enough to make a difference. This is also a lie. When we get really honest about what we want for our lives and for the world, we may come up with a mammoth-sized creative life dream. We may realize that what we really care about means enormous change for a huge number of people. We may need allies and collaborators. We may need to learn things we don't yet know and develop skills we don't yet possess. Shame will knock us back from the threshold. Shame will convince us that we can't possibly do what we most want to do, so we'll just have to settle for a life of being less than our dreams. Which means not living into our values because where our values lead us is too scary. If we can be boldly honest about our big, daunting dreams for the world, though, we may find we aren't the only ones who are committed to dreaming big.
"Scary" and shame are partners in all of this. Our shame is actually a very clever defense mechanism to keep us safe. It's a survival trait that kicks in when what we may want to do seems dangerous. We don't need our shame when we are living into a bold creative purpose, but because we feel anxious about jumping in the deep end, our shame tries to convince us to stay out of the water entirely. Our shame tries to keep us safe by making sure we never take a risk. No risk equals maximum safety. Except that change requires a bit of risk, even when it's positive change. Living into a personal creative life dream requires vulnerability, even when it's an amazing and inspiring vision.
If our shame wins, we get to feel safe and unfulfilled. If we push past our shame and let our deepest life-affirming values guide us instead, we get to feel vulnerable and fully alive. Believing that what we most deeply want is too small or too big to share honestly with anyone else will mean that we never risk the possibility of having what we want. How crazy is that? That we would know exactly what we want, and never risk having it? That's the survival purpose of shame. Our primitive brain equates less risk with greater chance of survival. But shame is not a separate intelligence guiding our lives and trying to keep us safe. Our shame doesn't know anything we don't know. Our shame is not the voice of a supernatural trying to direct our actions. It's just leftover thought routines we don't need.
Once we know what our deepest life-affirming values are, and once we are willing to live intentionally with integrity to those values, shame is useless to us. Our guiding principles may not always make us feel completely safe, but they will help us take meaningful risks. Our life-affirming values can keep us focused on the kind of person we most want to be, so that the risks we take are part of living into a bolder vision for our lives. We are fueled and empowered by our willingness to be boldly honest about what our deepest life-affirming values inspire us to create.
One last little piece of this part of the conversation: Other people will sometimes try to take the place of our shame voice. When we are boldly honest, other people -- without meaning harm -- may not have the kind of inspiring and encouraging response we hope for. They may want us to back down from a big creative life dream. Or they may try to convince us that what we want is insignificant and not worth pursuing. They will probably think that they are helping us by "talking sense into us" or by "giving us a dose of reality." And there are times when we certainly need other people to help us clarify what we most deeply want. Sometimes our initial exploration of dreaming big really is unrealistic and could use a little honing. Sometimes, though, people are unconsciously prompted to convince, compel, or coerce us into staying safe -- remaining right where we are and not taking unnecessary risks. This isn't always helpful.
So, as we become willing to be boldly honest about what we most want to create in our lives and in the world around us, it's important for us to listen openly to multiple voices. One person trying to shame us into giving up on what we most deeply want shouldn't deter us from living into a creative life dream with intention and integrity. Seven people warning us that there are some challenges we aren't considering, however, can help us become clearer about how we can realistically cast vision in our lives in alignment with our deepest life-affirming values. When people's feedback sounds like our own internal shame voice, it's worth acknowledging that their own anxiety and fear may be more important to them than your vision for your life or for the world. When people listen deeply to your own bold honesty and their words help you dig more deeply into how you can live into your deepest values, you may have gained a powerful ally or collaborator.
This all means that part of bold honesty is also being willing to listen carefully to the responses we receive -- internally and externally. Our own shame voice will try to keep us safe, but we are capable of being guided by our deepest life-affirming values instead. Other people may try to keep us safe, too. Or they may be inspired by our bold honesty about what we most deeply want. Or they may not have much of a response to us at all. It's important that we listen carefully and thoughtfully. And it's vital that we maintain connection to our life-affirming values -- our internal guidance system -- as we clarify what we care about most and become more fully alive.
Showing posts with label life purpose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life purpose. Show all posts
Monday, February 15, 2016
Monday, February 8, 2016
Bold Honesty, Part 1
So many of our important questions require the willingness to be boldly honest about what really matters to us. Honesty is essential when we consider how we can be satisfied with the way we influence the world around us, or how to connect our passions with creating greater wholeness, or how to get what we most deeply want and need by creating less suffering and greater well-being.
Often we filter what we care about most deeply through an "acceptability test," deciding whether what we want sounds acceptable to other people. The criteria of what we think might be acceptable varies from person to person, and are often based on belief systems that were imposed on us. Whatever the criteria, though, this kind of filtering keeps us from honestly expressing what we most deeply want, which means that we have very little chance of connecting what we care about to creating wholeness in our lives and the world around us.
One filter I often hear people using is whether something appears in a particular religious text or is endorsed by a religious community. "Feeding the hungry is highly regarded by my faith community, and my 'scripture' considers it laudable, so it seems safe for me to really care about feeding the hungry." This is fine if your actual passion is ensuring that everyone has enough food, but the filter isn't necessary. If you really care about feeding people, you don't need the endorsement of a religious text or community to live into that passion for the hungry. Moreover, some religious communities decide that only certain hungry people are worth feeding, or they decide that feeding the hungry is a means to an end of promoting their particular set of myths. This turns hungry people into targets for proselytization and makes them the victims of the people doing the feeding. It isn't really caring to insist that hungry people listen to your beliefs -- or worse, profess to agree with your beliefs -- before they receive the food they need.
There's another problem with allowing a religious text or community to be a filter through which you judge what you care about. You may care about transgender people, and yet your religious text says nothing about transgender people (although people in your religious community will probably find ways to interpret your religious text so that it seems to). People in many religious communities are opposed to the existence of transgender people. So your personal reasons for caring about a marginalized group of people -- who have an acute need for acceptance and care -- are potentially trumped by outdated and fear-driven religious beliefs. If you just told the truth that you care about something -- or a group of people -- very deeply, it would be much easier to see how that care can lead to creating greater wholeness and well-being.
Religions with exclusive beliefs (i.e., you have to believe what we believe in order to go to heaven, or be a good person, or exist) are by definition anti-equality. If a group of people believes that their group deserves special treatment, in real life or in an imaginary afterlife, they cannot simultaneously believe in equality. This is why religious people often seem threatened by demands for equal treatment by marginalized people: Equality for all means the loss of religious privilege, which in the U. S. means Christian privilege. One cannot truly create wholeness in the world and cling to an exclusivist belief system that withholds compassion and care from people who believe something different. If you are honest about what you care about most deeply, you have a better chance of seeing how it connects with creating wholeness in the world.
Why am I being so anti-religious? Why can't I just write about being honest about how our deepest values connect to creating wholeness? Because it's a real challenge to be honest about what you care about most deeply when so many loud religious voices call equality evil. It's a real challenge to be honest about creating wholeness when so many loud religious voices promote an idea of inherent brokenness. It's a real challenge to be honest about what you value when so many loud religious voices are shouting about what you should value, based on their own strangely-filtered view of the world. Being honest about what you care about isn't always easy, but it is essential to being satisfied with how you influence the world around you.
Some people run into another challenge when they start being honest about what really matters to them, though. Their first honest statements might be fueled by fears they've been carrying around about themselves or other people, and what they think they care about is an expression of that anxiety. Perhaps you think that what you care about most is just that your child gets a good education and a decent job. Or perhaps you think that what you care about most is that the property value of your home stays high, so you think you're against certain kinds of people moving into your neighborhood. Or perhaps you think that what you care about most is proselytizing to everybody you meet so that they have a chance to believe what you believe about imaginary things.
It helps to spend enough time asking yourself why you care about what you think you care about in order to get to the most solid foundation. Sometimes it even helps for someone else to be able to ask you why you care about what you think you care about. When what you care about seems not to be life-affirming, you can ask yourself what you're afraid of, work to dismantle irrational fears, and dig deeper to get to what really matters most to you.
Things like the well-being of your child involve a lot more than selfishly working to make sure they get a better shot at a high-paying career than anybody else's child does. It doesn't create wholeness in anyone's life just to be handed unearned opportunities that they aren't actually prepared to engage responsibly. In fact, fostering authentic well-being in your child's life involves fostering well-being in other people's lives too. Unless you home school your children, groom them to run a family business, and never allow them to meet anyone outside of your isolated community (which may not be a recipe for wholeness), well-being for your children involves well-being in the places where your children learn and play. Caring about your child's well-being ultimately means caring about a neighborhood, or a school, or some environment outside of your family. That doesn't mean that you have to start a non-profit or quit your job to become a full-time volunteer. It just means that you live into your values with a clear sense of connection to the larger world around you.
So, asking why is a powerful tool to help reveal your honest answers as fears or as deep life-affirming values:
I care most deeply about proselytizing to everyone I meet so they can believe in Jesus and go to heaven.
Why?
Because if they don't believe in Jesus, they'll go to hell.
That sounds like a fear.
I mean, because I feel loved and accepted by Jesus and I want other people to feel that too.
So, what you want is for people to feel loved and accepted. Is proselytizing the best way to do that? Or is there an even better way to live into your desire for people to feel loved and accepted?
Maybe you have to ask why several times before you get to something juicy. When you come across a fear, you'll know it because it will not lead to greater well-being for the greatest number of people. Fears may have an Us vs Them component, and fears often crop up when we start thinking outside our comfort zone. Life-affirming values inspire us toward greater wholeness in our own lives and in the lives of people around us. They often allow us to see situations as both/and rather than either/or. The things we care about most deeply may call us toward something bigger than what we can accomplish on our own with our current resources. Or they may simply call us to do exactly what we're already doing, with a different attitude.
Whatever our deepest life-affirming values may be, if we want to connect them to how we can create greater well-being in our lives and in the world around us, we have to be boldly honest about what they are. We have to be able to say out loud to other people, "This is what I care about most deeply." And in order for us to do that, we have to figure it out ourselves, and that can take a bit of work. Many of us are so used to coasting along without giving a lot of thought to where we're headed, the prospect of even having a vision for what we want to create in our lives seems utterly foreign. It's alright to try a few things on before you settle into what really matters most to you.
Next time, we'll explore another challenge to being boldly honest about what you really care about. For now, try a little bold honesty yourself and see what happens.
Often we filter what we care about most deeply through an "acceptability test," deciding whether what we want sounds acceptable to other people. The criteria of what we think might be acceptable varies from person to person, and are often based on belief systems that were imposed on us. Whatever the criteria, though, this kind of filtering keeps us from honestly expressing what we most deeply want, which means that we have very little chance of connecting what we care about to creating wholeness in our lives and the world around us.
One filter I often hear people using is whether something appears in a particular religious text or is endorsed by a religious community. "Feeding the hungry is highly regarded by my faith community, and my 'scripture' considers it laudable, so it seems safe for me to really care about feeding the hungry." This is fine if your actual passion is ensuring that everyone has enough food, but the filter isn't necessary. If you really care about feeding people, you don't need the endorsement of a religious text or community to live into that passion for the hungry. Moreover, some religious communities decide that only certain hungry people are worth feeding, or they decide that feeding the hungry is a means to an end of promoting their particular set of myths. This turns hungry people into targets for proselytization and makes them the victims of the people doing the feeding. It isn't really caring to insist that hungry people listen to your beliefs -- or worse, profess to agree with your beliefs -- before they receive the food they need.
There's another problem with allowing a religious text or community to be a filter through which you judge what you care about. You may care about transgender people, and yet your religious text says nothing about transgender people (although people in your religious community will probably find ways to interpret your religious text so that it seems to). People in many religious communities are opposed to the existence of transgender people. So your personal reasons for caring about a marginalized group of people -- who have an acute need for acceptance and care -- are potentially trumped by outdated and fear-driven religious beliefs. If you just told the truth that you care about something -- or a group of people -- very deeply, it would be much easier to see how that care can lead to creating greater wholeness and well-being.
Religions with exclusive beliefs (i.e., you have to believe what we believe in order to go to heaven, or be a good person, or exist) are by definition anti-equality. If a group of people believes that their group deserves special treatment, in real life or in an imaginary afterlife, they cannot simultaneously believe in equality. This is why religious people often seem threatened by demands for equal treatment by marginalized people: Equality for all means the loss of religious privilege, which in the U. S. means Christian privilege. One cannot truly create wholeness in the world and cling to an exclusivist belief system that withholds compassion and care from people who believe something different. If you are honest about what you care about most deeply, you have a better chance of seeing how it connects with creating wholeness in the world.
Why am I being so anti-religious? Why can't I just write about being honest about how our deepest values connect to creating wholeness? Because it's a real challenge to be honest about what you care about most deeply when so many loud religious voices call equality evil. It's a real challenge to be honest about creating wholeness when so many loud religious voices promote an idea of inherent brokenness. It's a real challenge to be honest about what you value when so many loud religious voices are shouting about what you should value, based on their own strangely-filtered view of the world. Being honest about what you care about isn't always easy, but it is essential to being satisfied with how you influence the world around you.
Some people run into another challenge when they start being honest about what really matters to them, though. Their first honest statements might be fueled by fears they've been carrying around about themselves or other people, and what they think they care about is an expression of that anxiety. Perhaps you think that what you care about most is just that your child gets a good education and a decent job. Or perhaps you think that what you care about most is that the property value of your home stays high, so you think you're against certain kinds of people moving into your neighborhood. Or perhaps you think that what you care about most is proselytizing to everybody you meet so that they have a chance to believe what you believe about imaginary things.
It helps to spend enough time asking yourself why you care about what you think you care about in order to get to the most solid foundation. Sometimes it even helps for someone else to be able to ask you why you care about what you think you care about. When what you care about seems not to be life-affirming, you can ask yourself what you're afraid of, work to dismantle irrational fears, and dig deeper to get to what really matters most to you.
Things like the well-being of your child involve a lot more than selfishly working to make sure they get a better shot at a high-paying career than anybody else's child does. It doesn't create wholeness in anyone's life just to be handed unearned opportunities that they aren't actually prepared to engage responsibly. In fact, fostering authentic well-being in your child's life involves fostering well-being in other people's lives too. Unless you home school your children, groom them to run a family business, and never allow them to meet anyone outside of your isolated community (which may not be a recipe for wholeness), well-being for your children involves well-being in the places where your children learn and play. Caring about your child's well-being ultimately means caring about a neighborhood, or a school, or some environment outside of your family. That doesn't mean that you have to start a non-profit or quit your job to become a full-time volunteer. It just means that you live into your values with a clear sense of connection to the larger world around you.
So, asking why is a powerful tool to help reveal your honest answers as fears or as deep life-affirming values:
I care most deeply about proselytizing to everyone I meet so they can believe in Jesus and go to heaven.
Why?
Because if they don't believe in Jesus, they'll go to hell.
That sounds like a fear.
I mean, because I feel loved and accepted by Jesus and I want other people to feel that too.
So, what you want is for people to feel loved and accepted. Is proselytizing the best way to do that? Or is there an even better way to live into your desire for people to feel loved and accepted?
Maybe you have to ask why several times before you get to something juicy. When you come across a fear, you'll know it because it will not lead to greater well-being for the greatest number of people. Fears may have an Us vs Them component, and fears often crop up when we start thinking outside our comfort zone. Life-affirming values inspire us toward greater wholeness in our own lives and in the lives of people around us. They often allow us to see situations as both/and rather than either/or. The things we care about most deeply may call us toward something bigger than what we can accomplish on our own with our current resources. Or they may simply call us to do exactly what we're already doing, with a different attitude.
Whatever our deepest life-affirming values may be, if we want to connect them to how we can create greater well-being in our lives and in the world around us, we have to be boldly honest about what they are. We have to be able to say out loud to other people, "This is what I care about most deeply." And in order for us to do that, we have to figure it out ourselves, and that can take a bit of work. Many of us are so used to coasting along without giving a lot of thought to where we're headed, the prospect of even having a vision for what we want to create in our lives seems utterly foreign. It's alright to try a few things on before you settle into what really matters most to you.
Next time, we'll explore another challenge to being boldly honest about what you really care about. For now, try a little bold honesty yourself and see what happens.
Monday, November 23, 2015
Asking the Right Questions -- Purpose
In addition to inventing and answering questions about an afterlife, religion presumes to answer questions about purpose. We've seen that we can meaningfully reframe afterlife-focused questions as "How do I live in such a way that I'll be satisfied with the influence I have in the world and with the legacy I leave behind?" We can also phrase questions of purpose without religious assumptions, and answer them more legitimately.
Believers who assume the existence of a supernatural seem to find it perfectly acceptable to ask, "What purpose does God have for my life?" or "What is God's plan for me?" Asking the question in this way accomplishes a few things. First, it suggests that our activities are part of a larger intentional scheme, coordinated by a better-than-human benevolent intelligence. It also removes personal responsibility for determining purpose, since it becomes the responsibility of a supernatural. In addition, it can provide a false sense comfort during challenging experiences to believe that everything is part of a larger plan or purpose that is beyond the individual's ability to perceive.
Before we consider whether framing the question of purpose differently can accomplish more for us, it's worth acknowledging that most people who believe that a supernatural has a secret plan for their lives are also susceptible to influence by religious leaders -- people perceived to have some spiritual authority. For some reason, it's acceptable to think that you are too ignorant to understand what purpose a supernatural might have, but that a professional minister somehow has special insight about what that supernatural wants for your life. This is just another way of abdicating responsibility. As long as someone else is taking responsibility for telling me my life's purpose, I don't have to worry about that. This might benefit some people if the spiritual authority they listen to has their best interests in mind, but it is far too easy for a unscrupulous spiritual authority to manipulate believers who aren't willing to take personal responsibility for their decisions.
There is something appealing about the whole concept that God has a plan, and your life fits into it in some unique and special way, even though you are just one small piece of the puzzle. It's rather like destiny or fate, but more personal. Thus, when people experience difficult circumstances, they can fall back on this idea that a warm and loving destiny-weaver has a plan, and that everything is going to work out alright. They may even quote a scripture that promises that "all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose" (Rom. 8:28). That can really make a person feel special and comforted, even if it doesn't seem to connect in any way to practical reality.
Just as everyone searches for hope, everyone searches for purpose. We've seen that the question of hope can be addressed in terms of how we live and how we influence the world toward wholeness. The question of purpose can be directed at us as well, rather than at some unreal external force. This might mean a little more work that just letting someone else tell us what to do, and it might mean a little more honesty when we experience challenges.
Ultimately, we are the only ones who determine our purpose, whether we recognize it or not. If we listen to a religious leader when they tell us what we should be doing, we are still personally responsible for our decisions. We make a choice, even though it seems easy because someone is telling us with authority what a god wants from us. If we just sit at home with a sacred text and derive from that what our purpose must be, we are still the only decision-makers involved in that process. There is no supernatural guiding us. We have just become so unused to hearing our own inner voice that we think it must come from outside of us. Whether we are honest about our responsibility or we pretend that it's beyond our choosing, we determine our purpose.
This is scary for a lot of folks, especially if they've been taught that they aren't enough. Churches often teach that human beings need some supernatural aid because we aren't enough on our own. They say that we aren't wise enough, or we aren't good enough, or we aren't powerful enough to live purposeful, meaningful lives. They say that we need help from something better than us if we're going to find real meaning and purpose. This degradation of human capability is poison. It prevents people from recognizing their authentic power to make decisions that are personally satisfying and that nurture the world around them. The truth is that human wisdom and goodness and power is all we have, and it is more than enough.
We find purpose when we take personal responsibility for our decisions -- understanding that we don't control other people, we only control ourselves. When we take the time to determine what is meaningful for us, what we really care about, we can define our purpose with clarity. When we are willing to risk the vulnerability of stepping out of our comfort zone and living into a more ambitious purpose for ourselves and for the world, we nourish our hope as well. This involves asking the question of ourselves, "What do I really care about?" thoroughly enough that we get to a powerful personal statement of purpose. To get there, we have to dig through our irrational fears and the lies that we've accepted about ourselves and other people. This takes some work, and it takes claiming our personal responsibility for our lives. And it has the potential to give us a more authentic sense of meaning and wholeness than abdicating the question of purpose to a supernatural or its representatives.
What about the idea that we are just one small piece in a bigger plan? That idea actually has some truth to it. There isn't a plan per se, but our actions do take place in a larger system. What we do in our lives can contribute to nurturing the world toward wholeness, but we don't do it all ourselves. Other people who have tapped into their purpose also find meaning in contributing their own piece. We don't have to feel overwhelmed by the amount of work to be done in the world. We can recognize the opportunity to take meaningful action in an area that's important to us. We don't have to feel ashamed that what we do gives us personal satisfaction. Purpose and meaning are not supposed to be self-sacrificial. The point is to do something we find personally satisfying and that nurtures the world around us toward greater well-being.
The question we can ask then becomes, "What purpose do I have for my life?" and "How do I live into a personal life dream that creates wholeness and increases the well-being of others?" We don't need supernaturals to tell us what inspires us, or to point out to us what the world needs. We don't need "sacred" texts to set us on the right path. We do have to be honest about our own biases and our own fears, and we need to dig deeper than answers that seem designed to keep us safe. Having a purpose isn't safe. Living into a personal creative life dream is powerful and satisfying, but it requires some vulnerability and risk. That's why we need people around us who can support and encourage us, which leads to another important question about community. We'll learn how to ask that question meaningfully next time.
Believers who assume the existence of a supernatural seem to find it perfectly acceptable to ask, "What purpose does God have for my life?" or "What is God's plan for me?" Asking the question in this way accomplishes a few things. First, it suggests that our activities are part of a larger intentional scheme, coordinated by a better-than-human benevolent intelligence. It also removes personal responsibility for determining purpose, since it becomes the responsibility of a supernatural. In addition, it can provide a false sense comfort during challenging experiences to believe that everything is part of a larger plan or purpose that is beyond the individual's ability to perceive.
Before we consider whether framing the question of purpose differently can accomplish more for us, it's worth acknowledging that most people who believe that a supernatural has a secret plan for their lives are also susceptible to influence by religious leaders -- people perceived to have some spiritual authority. For some reason, it's acceptable to think that you are too ignorant to understand what purpose a supernatural might have, but that a professional minister somehow has special insight about what that supernatural wants for your life. This is just another way of abdicating responsibility. As long as someone else is taking responsibility for telling me my life's purpose, I don't have to worry about that. This might benefit some people if the spiritual authority they listen to has their best interests in mind, but it is far too easy for a unscrupulous spiritual authority to manipulate believers who aren't willing to take personal responsibility for their decisions.
There is something appealing about the whole concept that God has a plan, and your life fits into it in some unique and special way, even though you are just one small piece of the puzzle. It's rather like destiny or fate, but more personal. Thus, when people experience difficult circumstances, they can fall back on this idea that a warm and loving destiny-weaver has a plan, and that everything is going to work out alright. They may even quote a scripture that promises that "all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose" (Rom. 8:28). That can really make a person feel special and comforted, even if it doesn't seem to connect in any way to practical reality.
Just as everyone searches for hope, everyone searches for purpose. We've seen that the question of hope can be addressed in terms of how we live and how we influence the world toward wholeness. The question of purpose can be directed at us as well, rather than at some unreal external force. This might mean a little more work that just letting someone else tell us what to do, and it might mean a little more honesty when we experience challenges.
Ultimately, we are the only ones who determine our purpose, whether we recognize it or not. If we listen to a religious leader when they tell us what we should be doing, we are still personally responsible for our decisions. We make a choice, even though it seems easy because someone is telling us with authority what a god wants from us. If we just sit at home with a sacred text and derive from that what our purpose must be, we are still the only decision-makers involved in that process. There is no supernatural guiding us. We have just become so unused to hearing our own inner voice that we think it must come from outside of us. Whether we are honest about our responsibility or we pretend that it's beyond our choosing, we determine our purpose.
This is scary for a lot of folks, especially if they've been taught that they aren't enough. Churches often teach that human beings need some supernatural aid because we aren't enough on our own. They say that we aren't wise enough, or we aren't good enough, or we aren't powerful enough to live purposeful, meaningful lives. They say that we need help from something better than us if we're going to find real meaning and purpose. This degradation of human capability is poison. It prevents people from recognizing their authentic power to make decisions that are personally satisfying and that nurture the world around them. The truth is that human wisdom and goodness and power is all we have, and it is more than enough.
We find purpose when we take personal responsibility for our decisions -- understanding that we don't control other people, we only control ourselves. When we take the time to determine what is meaningful for us, what we really care about, we can define our purpose with clarity. When we are willing to risk the vulnerability of stepping out of our comfort zone and living into a more ambitious purpose for ourselves and for the world, we nourish our hope as well. This involves asking the question of ourselves, "What do I really care about?" thoroughly enough that we get to a powerful personal statement of purpose. To get there, we have to dig through our irrational fears and the lies that we've accepted about ourselves and other people. This takes some work, and it takes claiming our personal responsibility for our lives. And it has the potential to give us a more authentic sense of meaning and wholeness than abdicating the question of purpose to a supernatural or its representatives.
What about the idea that we are just one small piece in a bigger plan? That idea actually has some truth to it. There isn't a plan per se, but our actions do take place in a larger system. What we do in our lives can contribute to nurturing the world toward wholeness, but we don't do it all ourselves. Other people who have tapped into their purpose also find meaning in contributing their own piece. We don't have to feel overwhelmed by the amount of work to be done in the world. We can recognize the opportunity to take meaningful action in an area that's important to us. We don't have to feel ashamed that what we do gives us personal satisfaction. Purpose and meaning are not supposed to be self-sacrificial. The point is to do something we find personally satisfying and that nurtures the world around us toward greater well-being.
The question we can ask then becomes, "What purpose do I have for my life?" and "How do I live into a personal life dream that creates wholeness and increases the well-being of others?" We don't need supernaturals to tell us what inspires us, or to point out to us what the world needs. We don't need "sacred" texts to set us on the right path. We do have to be honest about our own biases and our own fears, and we need to dig deeper than answers that seem designed to keep us safe. Having a purpose isn't safe. Living into a personal creative life dream is powerful and satisfying, but it requires some vulnerability and risk. That's why we need people around us who can support and encourage us, which leads to another important question about community. We'll learn how to ask that question meaningfully next time.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Judges 6-8: Heroes Rarely Change the World
We love stories about heroes. Super heroes. War heroes.
Mythical heroes. Small town heroes. They are more than merely
average human beings. They exemplify, even if only for a moment, the kind
of people we would like to be. They do the things we would like to think
we would do. If we were able. If we could rise above the
distractions of every day life. If we had a little more power. Or a
lot more power. At the very least, stories about heroes warm our
hearts and give us hope.
And yet, how much of an impact do heroes really have? No matter how many wars are fought, conflict persists between countries and peoples. No matter how many evil plots are foiled in our favorite comics, there are still more villains. Heroes may inspire us for a time, but we slip back into life as usual pretty easily. Certainly, the real people we consider to be heroic make a significant impact on a few people. The firefighter who saves a local family is rightly titled a hero, and that family's existence is forever impacted by that act of heroism. But life goes on. There will be more fires. The family will move on in their lives, and ultimately, the world will keep doing what it does.
In fact, world-changing events often have very little to do with individual actions. The things that change reality on a global scale are often things like diseases, stock market crashes, catastrophes. The moments in history when a single person's efforts are seen as world-changing are often quite the opposite of what we would consider heroic: the assassins or charismatic revolutionaries whose actions spark chain reactions. Of course there are those people who discover or invent the next step in medical, scientific, or technological progress: the Flemings, Einsteins, and Berners-Lees of the world. And there are those individuals who accomplish extraordinary feats: the Lindberghs, Amundsens, and Hillarys that change the way we see human capability. Still, at the end of the day, most world-changing events are more accurately portrayed as group efforts rather than the personal accomplishments of one person.
The book of Judges demonstrates clearly that even an incredibly heroic figure is still likely to have a minimal impact on a culture or society. Gideon, who doesn't at first trust his calling as a hero, accomplishes great things for the Israelites, and yet at the end of his life, they are right back to living the way they were before. Gideon is chosen, for unknown reasons, to serve as God's tool. He actually goes back and forth a bit with God's messenger to make sure the angel has the right guy. Once he's convinced, Gideon destroys the altar his community had raised to a local non-Israelite deity, and he summons his tribe's warriors to join him in fighting against Israel's numerous oppressors.
He still had his doubts, and he took a couple of days to verify that God was on his side. Then, God took a turn testing Gideon by telling him to dismiss the majority of his soldiers. At the ultimate conflict, the Israelites surprised their enemy because of their small numbers and created chaos with trumpet blasts and fires. Cleverness is once again shown as an admirable trait. Gideon had some trouble with other Israelite tribes. To those that chastised him for taking all the glory for himself, he offered soothing diplomacy. Those that ridiculed his efforts and refused to help received Gideon's vengeance once the enemy was dispatched.
Although the Israelites wanted to place Gideon in a role of power, he instead set up a golden shrine for the Israelites to worship. His words deferred power to God, but his actions led his tribe right back to a different sort of idolatry. Maybe he knew that the leadership they offered would be more trouble than it was worth. In any case, when Gideon died, the Israelites went back to their old ways. He was one man in the midst of a culture that was set in its habits, and his efforts ultimately had little impact on that culture.
It seems like a disheartening tale on the one hand, but it is an incredibly insightful tale about the limits of personal control over other people. Gideon served in a way that was meaningful to him, in the way in which he was divinely inspired and empowered. When the offer of leadership was made, he declined. That was a step beyond his willingness or capability. A few of us may be Einsteins or Berners-Lees or Lindberghs -- we may be the ones who discover, invent, or accomplish something that changes the world for large numbers of people. Most of us will have opportunities to be a hero to someone through much less earth-shattering acts. The secret is to follow a deep passion rather than external obligation.
None of the great thinkers or doers whose names we all know spent their energy trying to be heroic any way they could until they found something that would have a big impact. Rather, they focused their time and energy on things that were personally satisfying passions, and the results were profound. Gideon didn't set out trying to get the Israelites to acknowledge him as a leader, and everything he did wasn't perfect. Still, he made a difference in a small way and when it ceased to be inspiring or satisfying, he stopped. The firefighter who saves the family chooses to run into the building (hopefully with specialized training to support that decision). She or he probably expects a little acknowledgement at the end of the day, but it's also to be expected that life will go on eventually. Running into the building is just a part of who a firefighter is. It's honest. It means something personal to the firefighter.
Why spend time trying to be heroic or successful if the things you're doing to be heroic or successful don't really have any personal value to you? It's true that if you spend your time focused on things that have personal value that you may not be heroic or successful in anyone else's eyes, but does that really matter if you are personally satisfied with the results of how you spend your time and energy? You don't owe the world anything. And the world doesn't owe you anything either.
Like Gideon or a firefighter or any number of heroes in newspaper stories all over the world, you will have opportunities to do significant things that will most likely be forgotten by most people. You may even have a chance to do something that will be remembered by a lot of folks. Either way, if you are focused on the things that have deep personal meaning to you -- if you are authentic to your most noble self -- you will have a greater impact that you will ever have the privilege of seeing. You cannot determine whether your actions will change people's lives or the course of society. You don't get to decide whether your actions will be meaningful to anyone else. What you can determine is whether your actions are meaningful to you. The ripples those actions create are out of your control.
And yet, how much of an impact do heroes really have? No matter how many wars are fought, conflict persists between countries and peoples. No matter how many evil plots are foiled in our favorite comics, there are still more villains. Heroes may inspire us for a time, but we slip back into life as usual pretty easily. Certainly, the real people we consider to be heroic make a significant impact on a few people. The firefighter who saves a local family is rightly titled a hero, and that family's existence is forever impacted by that act of heroism. But life goes on. There will be more fires. The family will move on in their lives, and ultimately, the world will keep doing what it does.
In fact, world-changing events often have very little to do with individual actions. The things that change reality on a global scale are often things like diseases, stock market crashes, catastrophes. The moments in history when a single person's efforts are seen as world-changing are often quite the opposite of what we would consider heroic: the assassins or charismatic revolutionaries whose actions spark chain reactions. Of course there are those people who discover or invent the next step in medical, scientific, or technological progress: the Flemings, Einsteins, and Berners-Lees of the world. And there are those individuals who accomplish extraordinary feats: the Lindberghs, Amundsens, and Hillarys that change the way we see human capability. Still, at the end of the day, most world-changing events are more accurately portrayed as group efforts rather than the personal accomplishments of one person.
The book of Judges demonstrates clearly that even an incredibly heroic figure is still likely to have a minimal impact on a culture or society. Gideon, who doesn't at first trust his calling as a hero, accomplishes great things for the Israelites, and yet at the end of his life, they are right back to living the way they were before. Gideon is chosen, for unknown reasons, to serve as God's tool. He actually goes back and forth a bit with God's messenger to make sure the angel has the right guy. Once he's convinced, Gideon destroys the altar his community had raised to a local non-Israelite deity, and he summons his tribe's warriors to join him in fighting against Israel's numerous oppressors.
He still had his doubts, and he took a couple of days to verify that God was on his side. Then, God took a turn testing Gideon by telling him to dismiss the majority of his soldiers. At the ultimate conflict, the Israelites surprised their enemy because of their small numbers and created chaos with trumpet blasts and fires. Cleverness is once again shown as an admirable trait. Gideon had some trouble with other Israelite tribes. To those that chastised him for taking all the glory for himself, he offered soothing diplomacy. Those that ridiculed his efforts and refused to help received Gideon's vengeance once the enemy was dispatched.
Although the Israelites wanted to place Gideon in a role of power, he instead set up a golden shrine for the Israelites to worship. His words deferred power to God, but his actions led his tribe right back to a different sort of idolatry. Maybe he knew that the leadership they offered would be more trouble than it was worth. In any case, when Gideon died, the Israelites went back to their old ways. He was one man in the midst of a culture that was set in its habits, and his efforts ultimately had little impact on that culture.
It seems like a disheartening tale on the one hand, but it is an incredibly insightful tale about the limits of personal control over other people. Gideon served in a way that was meaningful to him, in the way in which he was divinely inspired and empowered. When the offer of leadership was made, he declined. That was a step beyond his willingness or capability. A few of us may be Einsteins or Berners-Lees or Lindberghs -- we may be the ones who discover, invent, or accomplish something that changes the world for large numbers of people. Most of us will have opportunities to be a hero to someone through much less earth-shattering acts. The secret is to follow a deep passion rather than external obligation.
None of the great thinkers or doers whose names we all know spent their energy trying to be heroic any way they could until they found something that would have a big impact. Rather, they focused their time and energy on things that were personally satisfying passions, and the results were profound. Gideon didn't set out trying to get the Israelites to acknowledge him as a leader, and everything he did wasn't perfect. Still, he made a difference in a small way and when it ceased to be inspiring or satisfying, he stopped. The firefighter who saves the family chooses to run into the building (hopefully with specialized training to support that decision). She or he probably expects a little acknowledgement at the end of the day, but it's also to be expected that life will go on eventually. Running into the building is just a part of who a firefighter is. It's honest. It means something personal to the firefighter.
Why spend time trying to be heroic or successful if the things you're doing to be heroic or successful don't really have any personal value to you? It's true that if you spend your time focused on things that have personal value that you may not be heroic or successful in anyone else's eyes, but does that really matter if you are personally satisfied with the results of how you spend your time and energy? You don't owe the world anything. And the world doesn't owe you anything either.
Like Gideon or a firefighter or any number of heroes in newspaper stories all over the world, you will have opportunities to do significant things that will most likely be forgotten by most people. You may even have a chance to do something that will be remembered by a lot of folks. Either way, if you are focused on the things that have deep personal meaning to you -- if you are authentic to your most noble self -- you will have a greater impact that you will ever have the privilege of seeing. You cannot determine whether your actions will change people's lives or the course of society. You don't get to decide whether your actions will be meaningful to anyone else. What you can determine is whether your actions are meaningful to you. The ripples those actions create are out of your control.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Numbers 6: Dedicating Oneself to a Purpose and Finding Blessing Within
Honestly, I was ready to slip right past commenting on Numbers 6. Truth be told, I am anxious to get further along toward the New Testament, since it has a lot more to do with healthy human interaction and less to do with preserving Israelite culture. As I've made fairly clear, the Old Testament scriptures we've seen thus far seem to be about controlling a population and using the concept of an external, infallible, almighty intelligence to enforce that control. There are also some profound truths that inescapably peer out from behind the very human fears that fill the biblical narrative.
Case in point: the Nazirites. Nazirites were special people in the Israelite community. Whereas many people were given tasks and roles by appointment, Nazirites made a personal choice to dedicate themselves. It had nothing to do with bloodline or having their names appear on some sacred list, the Nazirites were simply those people who willingly committed themselves to a purpose. Of course, their purpose was to serve their concept of God, but the choice was entirely theirs to make.
After a special preparatory period, the Nazirites were inducted with a special ceremony, marking their dedication with a meaningful and memorable experience. They also bore outward signs of their purposefulness, with the very obvious shaving of their heads. Through their behavior, their experience, and their appearance, they were outwardly and inwardly committed to what they considered to be a meaningful purpose. Why don't we adopt similar practices in our own lives? What prevents us from committing ourselves as intentionally to something profoundly meaningful?
The very first step in dedicating oneself is verbal declaration. Intentionally announcing your purpose out loud to other people is incredibly powerful. It will either solidify the underlying intention or expose it as a passing fancy. Perhaps we avoid this because we are afraid of what it will look like to other people if we fail or go back on that intention later on. Perhaps we don't want to risk ridicule if other people think our purposefulness is misguided. Those fears are empty. They are flimsy excuses that threaten to keep us from stepping forward into something that could be our life work. State your purpose, out loud and often.
For the Nazirites, there was a period of preparation before their induction. While your preparation may not pertain to diet or purification, there is still value in setting oneself up for success. If your purpose is truly valuable, it is worth taking time to prepare yourself. One doesn't set out to climb a mountain without a fair bit of physical preparation. You can't expect to start a new dietary plan without cleaning out your refrigerator and your cabinets first. It's the same with any purposeful endeavor. Determine what preparations you need to make and allow yourself the time to be intentional in your approach
The Nazirites also had a ceremony that symbolically took them across the threshold of their commitment. While this doesn't need to be a public affair, rituals are powerful tools that are underutilized by most of us. When your purpose has been declared with intention and you have prepared yourself thoughtfully, create for yourself a rite of passage that carries you into the realm of purposefulness. You could invite close friends to be a part of this, or it may be just for you, but make it a positive and memorable symbol of your commitment and your focus will be more easily maintained.
One can find any number of resources about accomplishing goals and living purposefully. Some of them are valuable and some leave a lot to be desired. The greatest advantage any person has in accomplishing any goal is their own personal passion about what they're doing. If you dedicate your time and energy toward something you are passionate about, the rest of these elements are simply enhancements to that passion. The Nazirite model is simply one way to pursue that passion with clear and focused dedication. Declare your intention out loud (to other people), prepare yourself thoughtfully, and acknowledge your purpose with some positive and memorable ceremony.
The end of Numbers 6 holds a blessing with which many Christians are familiar. It also works if one recognizes that the seat of divinity lies within. It can be a challenge at first to trust an internal voice, but the divine self has a character very different from the fearful and abusive self-talk we all carry around. The divine guidance from within possesses those distinctive qualities of deep truth, beauty, and creativity. When we allow ourselves to tap into that resource, we are in a way blessing ourselves.
That divine self is the part within us that truly wants us to succeed, that finds ways to keep us on our purposeful path. It is the part of ourselves that shines from within, that sees someone beautiful when we look intentionally in the mirror. It is the part of us that is willing to forgive ourselves when we get off track, and the inner sense of peacefulness and reassurance that is always available to us when we are willing to receive it. We have these things inside of us. We don't always accept that part of ourselves, but it is crucial for us to acknowledge this reserve of strength and graciousness and peace when we dedicate ourselves to a meaningful purpose. Our noble passions are worth our dedication.
Case in point: the Nazirites. Nazirites were special people in the Israelite community. Whereas many people were given tasks and roles by appointment, Nazirites made a personal choice to dedicate themselves. It had nothing to do with bloodline or having their names appear on some sacred list, the Nazirites were simply those people who willingly committed themselves to a purpose. Of course, their purpose was to serve their concept of God, but the choice was entirely theirs to make.
After a special preparatory period, the Nazirites were inducted with a special ceremony, marking their dedication with a meaningful and memorable experience. They also bore outward signs of their purposefulness, with the very obvious shaving of their heads. Through their behavior, their experience, and their appearance, they were outwardly and inwardly committed to what they considered to be a meaningful purpose. Why don't we adopt similar practices in our own lives? What prevents us from committing ourselves as intentionally to something profoundly meaningful?
The very first step in dedicating oneself is verbal declaration. Intentionally announcing your purpose out loud to other people is incredibly powerful. It will either solidify the underlying intention or expose it as a passing fancy. Perhaps we avoid this because we are afraid of what it will look like to other people if we fail or go back on that intention later on. Perhaps we don't want to risk ridicule if other people think our purposefulness is misguided. Those fears are empty. They are flimsy excuses that threaten to keep us from stepping forward into something that could be our life work. State your purpose, out loud and often.
For the Nazirites, there was a period of preparation before their induction. While your preparation may not pertain to diet or purification, there is still value in setting oneself up for success. If your purpose is truly valuable, it is worth taking time to prepare yourself. One doesn't set out to climb a mountain without a fair bit of physical preparation. You can't expect to start a new dietary plan without cleaning out your refrigerator and your cabinets first. It's the same with any purposeful endeavor. Determine what preparations you need to make and allow yourself the time to be intentional in your approach
The Nazirites also had a ceremony that symbolically took them across the threshold of their commitment. While this doesn't need to be a public affair, rituals are powerful tools that are underutilized by most of us. When your purpose has been declared with intention and you have prepared yourself thoughtfully, create for yourself a rite of passage that carries you into the realm of purposefulness. You could invite close friends to be a part of this, or it may be just for you, but make it a positive and memorable symbol of your commitment and your focus will be more easily maintained.
One can find any number of resources about accomplishing goals and living purposefully. Some of them are valuable and some leave a lot to be desired. The greatest advantage any person has in accomplishing any goal is their own personal passion about what they're doing. If you dedicate your time and energy toward something you are passionate about, the rest of these elements are simply enhancements to that passion. The Nazirite model is simply one way to pursue that passion with clear and focused dedication. Declare your intention out loud (to other people), prepare yourself thoughtfully, and acknowledge your purpose with some positive and memorable ceremony.
The end of Numbers 6 holds a blessing with which many Christians are familiar. It also works if one recognizes that the seat of divinity lies within. It can be a challenge at first to trust an internal voice, but the divine self has a character very different from the fearful and abusive self-talk we all carry around. The divine guidance from within possesses those distinctive qualities of deep truth, beauty, and creativity. When we allow ourselves to tap into that resource, we are in a way blessing ourselves.
That divine self is the part within us that truly wants us to succeed, that finds ways to keep us on our purposeful path. It is the part of ourselves that shines from within, that sees someone beautiful when we look intentionally in the mirror. It is the part of us that is willing to forgive ourselves when we get off track, and the inner sense of peacefulness and reassurance that is always available to us when we are willing to receive it. We have these things inside of us. We don't always accept that part of ourselves, but it is crucial for us to acknowledge this reserve of strength and graciousness and peace when we dedicate ourselves to a meaningful purpose. Our noble passions are worth our dedication.
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