The Sum of it All.

EARLIER THIS MORNING, I read of a study conducted on men that sought to measure the factors that contribute to an “optimum” life. The project was originally started in 1939 by a group of researchers at Harvard’s medical school and is known as the Grant Study. This particular study offers insights gleaned from over seven decades of interviews and questionnaires completed by the same group of men that began at the age of 18 years old. The men are pushing into their nineties leaving behind a trail of data and extensive information about who they are, how they’ve come to be and other factors that led them through life - factors such as, childhood, relationships in adulthood, marriages, influence of fathers and mothers and even maternal grandfathers.

Reading through this study that sought out to find answers to how a man finds success in life, and even how he defines success, caused me to think of the importance of story. We each have a story, not yet fully written. There are pages to be written and life yet to be lived.

But is there a point when we settle in to the story and simply follow?

What gets us to where we want to be in life? Is the sum of who we are a result of innate characteristics wrapped up in our genetic makeup or who we are shaped and nurtured to be? Can life be given to cause and effect or our effort to become?

The findings collected from volumes of data collected throughout the Grant Study have identified many factors that have contributed to full life, but in the end, Vaillant’s answer is quite simple: “...our lives when we are old are the sum of all of our loves.”

Competitively exists the opposite in our culture, a drive to get, rather than give, as path to happiness and a covetousness of all that we don’t own. Many of us are so consumed with being someone else that we don’t allow who we are to flourish. Who we are gets buried beneath maligned definitions of success, achievement and happiness, to the point where love is devalued and owning and having is the ultimate value to maintain in life. In opposition to this individualism, winner-takes-all mentality within our culture is the Gospel and the roots of the early church. Shoulders bearing the weight of others, lives being open to neighbors in relationship and service being the chief mode of daily life to aspire to, is the picture we see in the book of Acts, not individuals grasping for all that can be had, but a collective of people - brothers and sisters - who belonged to one another and whose hearts belonged to a Kingdom beyond what could be seen.

When each of us grow close to the end of this life, all that we will truly have will be as Vaillant concluded, “the sum of all of our loves.” You have a story to be lived that should be led and guided by love as the ultimate value. And not the type of love that simply wants or appreciates, but the type of love that binds you to what truly matters. Love guides us to truth and always to what matters most.

---

If you’re interested in read more on the findings of the Grant Study, here’s a fantastic write up titled, "Love is All You Need," posted on the artofmanliness.com.

image source: "Pathway," by Halifaxlight, licensed by CC 2.0

Coffee and words, almost. (not quite)

Day 15. Another Saturday morning met with a cool glass of water whilst I peruse articles of interest. Since day four of the detox - 90% veggies, some fruit, water and an daily organic tea or two, the headaches have relented as I give my body the sleep it truly needs and I truly am beginning to feel healthier. A few years from now, I'll be entering my fourth decade of life and the aim is to be healthy as late into life as possible, for there are mountains I want to climb, trails I want to ride and adventures to be had. My then dog in tow, I'd also like to have the vigor to introduce adventure into the lives of my also then grandkids. So 21 days to recalibrate food and habit is truly an investment into tomorrow and all that God has before me.

Here are my finds this morning. I hope you enjoy.

Jewish life before the Holocaust

You Really Can Teach Yourself to be Smarter

And here's a tool to write a bit smarter

Speaking of, here's some rather smart design

Preaching 'God' and Justifying the Self

Lastly, an interesting read on desire and deliverance, appropriately titled, 'Desire and Deliverance'

Cheers to the extended weekend and endless glasses of cool water!

Coffee and words, almost.

Despite no coffee for eights days now, it's a chipper Saturday morning here in our household. Marissa and I still have 14 days to go sans coffee and full of greens, earthy veggies and detoxing supplements all thanks to our three weeks of eating habit reform. Two habits, in particular, I need to reshape are lack of sleep and dependency on coffee. These both work in connected detraction to my health as I age. Simply put, the longer I'd continue depriving my body of a full night's sleep the more my body would suffer. Adding coffee as a means to not only wake me up but pull me through the evening was only masking the sleep deprivation. The indicators became more frequent and apparent: irritability, lack of concentration and focus, lull in creativity, elevated blood pressure and cholesterol. 

I'll reintroduce coffee to my life in a couple weeks, but it'll be a delight, not a necessity. That's my aim as a whole - to live healthy now and prepare to age strong.

And so, cheers to this weekend and beyond, as I get set to sip my beet infused morning shake. I hope you enjoy the reads below:

• Before the reads, here's some nostalgic fun.
• Tragically, the world witnessed the murder of journalist James Foley. Here are family pictures which tell a better story than that of what most know.
• Importantly and timely, novelist, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, warns that if we hear only a single story about another person or country, we risk a critical misunderstanding.
• The events in Ferguson continue to dominate most headlines. Here's an interesting read on the two very different worlds of Ferguson.
• I find the community responses to unrelated death of two young black men interesting. 
• And a solid gospel read on white Christians' response.
• Here's a good place to begin reshaping, resizing and strengthening, a regular response to social justice. I should be clear, lasting social justice begins with the Gospel transforming.  

on rest and stillness.

TO FEEL A BREATH drawn in deep, expanding your lungs and life in the realization that that one, too, was needed and happened much without your doing, and then to let go thankfully: that is rest, stillness and practice of Sabbath.

All too often our breaths grow shallow, uncountable in their rapid frequency, as we take more than we should out of day. We live exhausted, overworked by our own hand, somehow reaching for a space of happiness, a point of satisfaction and significance - that all that we do is meaningful and filling, but still, so many of us grow more restless and anxious and tired, never getting a step closer to what’s always just right there. We’re aimed in the wrong way, our daily sight set a few degrees off of true.

As summer draws to an end, I have been diving into rest and Sabbath more because I, too, feel the thin and have lived here too long. The strain put on my day - in work demands, self expectations, relationships and those I love most - was as drowning. I once read of a sort of euphoria that overtakes the body in drowning. As water is drawn into the lungs blocking gas exchange in delicate tissues and triggers the airway to seal closed. The chest burns as water travels down the airway and then a sort of tranquil sensation due to a lack of oxygen in the brain. This isn’t too far off from the feeling I sensed in parts of my day - a drowning in too much activity, propped up by caffeine, and a lack of breathing. More so, of rest.

Here, six days into detox and caffeine free, my sleep is more indigenous to my design. The first five were hell filled with constant irritability and headaches and weariness uncovered and allowed.

Two thoughts about Sabbath: it must be found in moments daily, and still, it must involve a singular, set apart day. Each day, I’m learning to find the stillness the Psalmist proclaimed leads to God, acknowledging God as he is and ever shall be, and there is one day now when rest rules the day in honor of God’s ever giving providence in my life.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” (Ps. 46:10)

As in the flowing lines of poet-farmer, Wendell Berry, so eloquently lead, “and you are where breathing is prayer,” might it be that our silence found causes us to know God for all he is to become to us.

Sit and be still

until in the time

of no rain you hear

beneath the dry wind's

commotion in the trees

the sound of flowing

water among the rocks,

a stream unheard before,

and you are where

breathing is prayer.

Sabbaths, VI, by Wendell Berry

on rest and honor.

The lift away from when day pulls to lowering me down. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been an early riser and late goer, meaning my candle burns on both ends, often leaving me short on strength and pulled thin. The extra time seemed to be always worth hours of sleep forgotten, or foregone. And for what - a movie, writing, reading, entertaining - more of what I wanted: excess and indulgence. I’d pride myself on the amount of time I could own, surviving on 4-5 hours of sleep just so I could do more. 

Do more - that’s always been my problem, my vulnerability and my idol.

The more I do, the better I feel and more valuable I define myself. In fact, when I think about it, I am a taker of time, both mine and others. That is, unless I am giving in a relationship, I feel near worthless and indispensable, so I work to earn and keep my place.

And so, the problem with constantly doing to be valued and pulling more hours away from sleep is weariness; the kind of weariness that droops shoulders low like that of willow trees bending down to the earth. The larger problem, of course there always is a larger problem, is the business of making life more unholy. 

“Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy. Six days you shall labor, and do all your work, but the seventh day is a Sabbath to the LORD your God.”

In simple, but functional meaning, remembering the Sabbath is to rest - to rest from pursuit and accomplishment. It is to still yourself and stop from running the same pace 24/7 until you simply cannot go anymore. There’s no lasting achievement is spending yourself empty, only stress, worry, anxiety, unhealthy and defiance. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with hard work and diligence, but when we only reach for more all the time, we value ourselves over all else; we overlook beauty in simplicity, count as worthless any idle time, rush through the miracle of each day and miss opportunities to be thankful.

I’ve pushed harder than normal lately, leaving me not just tired, but weary. As a result of doing and going, my life diminished to the size of me, focused narrowly on all that I must get done. This is a lie. This is life unholy. I am unhealthy. Tangled in worry, pride, self-doubt and fear, all as a result of unrest and pursuit valued higher than God’s goodness and provision. I’ve kept myself from rest. I’ve kept myself from God.

Learning to rest requires an intentional plan of honoring God with a day unlike the other six, otherwise my rest happens sporadically only when I can no longer go more. On this day, I rest by not pursuing life as I do throughout the week. I can do nothing on this day that causes me to be an ounce more valuable in God’s eye. Resting helps me see the glory and goodness in each day. I am more thankful and more alive.

(*Exodus 20:8, ESV)

featured image: Willow blue cloud 2 by Thelonious58 

Coffee and words, almost.

It's a bit later, a bit lazier of a morning for us this fine Saturday. After a handful of days with my mom, sister and niece and nephew, I'm resting well and full. It's been awhile since a visit of this kind has happened - bowling, marathon card games, heart conversations late into evening, meals around table. Needed and good.

Everyone's packed to spend another week together leaving me and the Mrs alone in a quiet house with books and naps and date nights. As much as I miss the girls away, I look forward to nights and days alone with my wife. We still have so much to know and learn about each other. Our first step is a nap this morning, followed by an afternoon movie, in which I'll probably doze off in, and then a night on a patio somewhere.

And to you, and those you love, a joy-filled Saturday. 

I've been learning more about rest in order to rest well. Mark Buchanan's book, 'The Rest of God', is an amazing teacher. Here's something echoing within my chambers: "It is letting go, for one day out of seven, all those parts of our identities and abilities in which we are constantly tempted to find our security and discovering afresh that we are his children and that he is our Father and shield and defender."

Speaking of another superb teacher has been this mystery of a man and his holy inefficiency of living.

And speaking of teachers, are they born that way or made that way?

And in regard to teachers and holy living and much more, there's this news of mega-pastor, Mark Driscoll, being removed from the church planting org that he founded.

This news of a church canceling a funeral of a gay man is abhorrently sad and ridiculous. All the more reason to rest well and pray more.

Lastly, one day, these photos will be my travel journal.

In Case We Break.

MY CHAIR LEANED BACK and the night sky opened up forever. There was silence between the four of us. Our words had gone as far as they would carry the emotion strangling our hopes and love and smiles sometime put on with determination.

One burning star owned my attention. For a moment, I faded to weightlessness: all was perfect and quiet, as all good families truly always ever are.

We are a crude coming together - close and touching, but not seamless. Like boards cut to fit by a nervous, novice craftsman, our joints don’t quite align in familial symmetry. At times, we stand as strangers knotted and bent around each other, pushing and pulling and holding. So it is, and sacredly ever shall be, we as a blended family. The cursing and the praising, the whispered prayers bathed in desire and despair. It all pleases Him who called these living pieces together, spackled in grace. Some days I’d choose us as pieces. It was easier then before rings and words and prayers that bind forever. No one ever chooses to look beyond love in the moment full of promise to days tattered and frayed by words that pull against promise. That’s why it is important to look back, to see the day again when love reigned over words and selfishness. I can still see the two of us joined and pulling the three of them close in to make a family of five.

And so it was that we began life anew - once four, then two, then five - a blended, knotted mess of God’s grace again aimed to defy odds and be owned by love.

This night, under the stars and in the thick of silent, the odds tugged to win with extra effort.

A lie. That was enough to give win and pull apart. She, one of our three daughters, was convinced of things as she had perceived them to be. As a result, she was pulled a bit further away into another reality different from truth and twisted in fear and anger. She was alone and safe for the taking. For weeks, her anger boiled and frothed over and reached for the freshest seam - her mom now, the wife of her father, the once friend and now ‘stepmom’ whose coming brought more finality to death and what once was. Every interaction between the two strained and hissed. This is blended family real in the wake of death - daily toeing the edge of making it and another addition to the 70% who don’t.

I could feel pulling hard and resolute. We all could, there under the stars and in the silence without words. And for a moment, I watched us break and the years ahead fracture. In case we break, I’d like it known that we tried. Our best foot stretches forward just enough to go beyond the other. We read to learn better, we talk out difficulties, we rage honestly and often fall to sleep praying quietly - we really try hard - and the reality of us breaking apart lurks, ready to loot the love that also dwells inside. Love is just not enough. At least it’s not always enough. The lie thieving then, under the stars and in the thick of silence, served as opportunity, as teaching moment and salvation. Storms will rage in our home, but we must bind ourselves to something that will hold, something that we can rope ourselves to and will hold when voices can’t be heard and the breaking reaches in to pull us back apart.

Truth shall bind us together tighter than love itself and Grace shall forever be saving.

In case we break, we are building to rush back together again. We may break again and again, but my hope is that Truth is a gravity that won’t let go.