To Be Known

The human condition is such a strange one.

On one hand we want to be self-sufficient. We value those who can pull themselves up by the bootstraps and make a difference in the world around them.

But on the other hand, even the most powerful of us have a desire to be cared for. We want to know that someone appreciates us for who we are, not just for what we do.

No wonder the world is in such turmoil! With such competing goals working within us and against each other, there can be no outcome other than strife.

But the really funny thing is that though these forces work against each other, they really have the same desire at their root. Because at the center of each is the need be known.

I've been intrigued by this characteristically human dilemma in myself for some time. I long so much to be known and accepted by those around me, yet I throw up walls about my deeper self in favor of my efforts to distinguish myself among my peers. I want so much to be acclaimed for my noteworthy deeds, even if it means I have to sacrifice the truest desires of my heart. I am a walking example of the human condition.

So for me it's exquisitely poignant when someone shows a real knowledge of my inner self. It says more than any hug, kiss or present could that this other person has an understanding and appreciation of who I really am. After all, they went to the effort to surmount the walls around me and touch my soul. They must truly care! And the result is a meaningful connection that I can treasure.

But even here there is still something lacking. There is always an element of myself that is still hidden and walled off from others. Because no matter how empathetic an individual, they can't possibly know all of who I am. No one is so insightful that they could know me as completely as the secret part of my soul yearns to be known.

And it is from this need that man's desire to find God springs.

I admit, this stream of logic bothers me. After all, though it's logical to assume that God has formed this need in all of us to draw us toward him, it's just as logical to think that man has created God in order to fill this need. It is a conundrum, to say the least. And one that doesn't leave me comfortably trusting in my faith.

I guess that's why an event the other day affected me so much.

I'm plagued by two major spiritual conflicts of late. The first is that I long for a childlike faith again, but find myself unable to trust somethig so simple. The other is reconciling my scientific understanding of creation with a Biblical account that seems so ludicrous. (I'll have to devote another whole post to these topics!)

I've largely struggled with both of these in silence, really not feeling comfortable sharing them with others. So it was a bit of a surprise when a co-worker gave me two books out of the blue. One was on having a childlike faith. The other was wrestling with a biblical interpretation of creation.

Even with my many doubts, this really pushed the possibilities of coincidence. Maybe one book I could have blown off. Getting both, though, seemed impossibly unlikely. It seemed so intentional, despite my friend's ignorance of my struggles. And for the first time in many a day, I found myself confronted with the possibility that there might really be a power out there that not only knew every one of my inner desires, but also cared enough to reach out and touch those needs through the unknowingly kind gesture of a friend.

It's something less than a epiphany, I guess. But it is comforting to me to feel this kind of love once more. It seemed so real to me, which was a welcome change to the faking I find myself doing so much of the time just to get through the day. It felt like the real thing. And I have to admit that it's good to not have to long to be known for once, but rather rest in the assurance that I am already known. Now if I could only find the formula to keep such an assurance in my heart always!

Planting Gratitude

In my family we have a very interesting tradition for the Thanksgiving holiday that I truly think is unique.

It all started two years ago. As the holiday approached, my wife asked my daughter and me to go search for an old branch so we could plant it in our house. She called it a "gratitude tree." And I thought she was absolutely crazy.

It seemed so silly to me. I was basically being asked to search for a dried out stick to plant in a pot of dirt in my living room. But over the years I've learned to trust my wife's ideas (with fits and starts at least). So just as many people bundle up and hit the lots in search for the perfect Christmas tree, we donned our warmest clothes and walked our street in search of an old branch that kind of looked like a tree.

Thankfully we didn't have far to go. After all, my daughter was only three at the time. A long trip would have meant carrying the branch and her back to the house. So before we reached the end of the block I found our first gratitude tree. And let me tell you, it was a sad sight.

The branch was as dry as dry can be. It was empty of all life and I could barely extract it for the pile it was in without losing its perfect shape in a cacophy of cracking twigs. But my daughter loved it and I knew it was what my wife had wanted. So I gently lifted it up and carried it back to the house, where my wife had prepared a large pot with potting soil.

I couldn't have felt more silly. It was just plain ludicrous to put this branch in my home. But there was something cathartic about it as well. It was kind of a beautiful idea. To take something at the end of its life and give it new life and meaning. To remember what it once was by using it to remember all the good things that had happened to us during that year. So I went with the idea and put it in a place of honor in the front room.

Over the next few weeks I was blown away by what this "tree" would become to me. My wife and daughter made leaves out of all different colors of construction paper, then invited everyone who came to our house to write down what they were grateful for and tie their leaves to our tree. And over the course of those few weeks that dried out twig became a living thing again for one last time. It became a thing of beauty that reminded us of the grace God had favored us with and the good things that were awaiting us in the coming year.

I think the most telling thing was when it came time to actually replace our gratitude tree with our Christmas tree. We just couldn't get rid of it and ended up moving this reminder of everything that was good in our lives into the dining room. And long after the Christmas tree was removed from our house that gratitude tree stood proudly in our home.

This is only our third year of performing this tradition, but it already feels like the holiday's wouldn't be complete without it. It truly is that special to us all.

So tomorrow we go to find our next gratitude tree. We'll all bundle up this time, get in the car and go to a park to search for the perfect branch. And once again we'll remember all the good things that God has done for us.

A Smug Feeling of Satisfaction

Well, I did it.

I've played around with this idea for quite a while. Even loaded portable blogging software on my Treo. (Which is way cool, by the way.) But it took my wife wanting me to set one up for her prayer pilgrimage to break my inertia. After all, I could never show my face around my tech friend again if my near-techno-phobic-wife had a blog and I didn't.

So at last, I have a forum. At last a place to vent my opinions. But instead of revelling in the machiavellian power of it all, I find myself with little to say at first. So perhaps some explanations would be in order.

First, the name. It's actually the title of my latest completed work of unpublished fiction. But aside from that, it's also a fairly good explanation of the way I feel most days.

We are born through water. We are composed of water. We live in a world of mostly water. We are baptized in water. Water is the ultimate sign of life. It is the image of God's grace. It is the symbol of everything clean and pure. But as for me, I find myself struggling to stay afloat most of the time.

Sometimes it's just overwhelming to be surrounded by so much that is "liquid." Because the other side of the analogy is that water is ever moving and uncontrollable. Grasping at water leaves you with empty hands that only hold the residue of what you were reaching to find. Water can be both wild and calm, but either way it can overwhelm you and take you to unknowable depths. And though you be the best of swimmers, in the ocean that is life you'll always tire before reaching the shore. So the only chance for survival is to surrender to the whims of the waves.

Thus my struggle with knowing God.

To put my life in the hands of what I cannot see and simply discover where I come ashore seems so foolhardy. I want the control of my life. I want to know the meaning behind every seemingly random circumstance. It's a big ocean, after all. Why risk myself to possible folly?

But then I consider the tired swimmer and my thoughts are moved in the other direction. What's the true folly? Living a life that leads to no reward, or struggling endlessly against a force that is unchangeable and eternal?

I could go on, dear reader, but there's plenty of time for you to get to know me. Besides, I have to leave you with some reasons for coming back, don't I?

So allow me to leave you tonight with this thought: God's we create for ourselves are pleasant things that always give us exactly the peace we were looking for. But I have become dissatisfied and disillusioned by them. And now I find that I need to discover the true God out there, who is wild and untamed and who loves as fiercely as he judges. This is the God I long to know. And I won't settle for anything less.