More truth emerging
05/10/15 05:43
A group of us were talking about hope yesterday afternoon. Our conversation was stirred by a beautiful presentation by a bright schoolgirl who combined visual images with a few quotes and thoughts of her own. I participated mostly as an observer, enjoying listening to the contributions of others. Most of the participants were adults and there was a general sense that hope is primarily a state of mind - a positive attitude towards the future. There was also a connection drawn between hope and desire. Often when we say “I hope,” we are expressing what we want to happen.
One of the advantages to being on the edge of my aging years is that I can listen to the thoughts and ideas of others and put them into a bit of context in my own life. When I was younger, I might have wanted to dive into the conversation immediately to express my own thoughts and opinions without taking the same effort to listen. I grew up in a household where conversation and debate was encouraged and often viewed conversation as a kind of competitive sport at which I had to show aggression to win.
The conversation yesterday was much more positive. I didn’t have any points I needed to make, no desire to convince others of my point of view. I may be wrong, but I experience this as a product of age and maturity. I have no fear of being negatively influenced by the thoughts and ideas of others and that sensation is something that is relatively new to me.
Our conversation, however, just began to scratch the surface of the meanings of hope.
People often don’t know what they are talking about. Talking about things is one of the ways that we develop ideas and concepts. Some topics and concepts take many generations to become clear. We don’t know when people first began to talk about God, but we do know that the ancients had some ideas about God that were rather small. It took a series of dramatic events for our people to discover that God was bigger than the small area of land that was familiar. The thought that God might be the same in a distant location hadn’t occurred to them. Understanding that there is only one God took many generations. There was a long time when our people thought that the gods of other people were distinct and different from the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. It is only relatively recent that we were able to begin to grasp the immensity of the universe. Previous images of God as somehow unique to this planet fall short of the glory we now are only beginning to envision.
I had a sense, in yesterday’s conversation, that we were struggling to develop a common understanding of a concept that was much bigger than our small gathering. Beginning to understand hope will require much more conversation and then we will not fully grasp is deepest meanings. I expect that we will have opportunities for those conversations as time passes.
That is another advantage of growing older. I have learned that the really great ideas and concepts of this world will continue to be refined and conversations will continue. I don’t have to lead all of the discussions. The development of understanding doesn’t hinge on my participation. I am hopeful not because I expect to know the full truth, but because those who are younger than I are seriously wrestling with ideas and that process of development will last beyond the span of my time on this earth. The fact that our presenter was willing to tackle such a big topic at such a young age was for me in itself hopeful. There is more to this world than what is immediately observable.
Hope is more than optimism. It is more than a positive attitude. Our speaker yesterday understood this. She said, “Sometimes something really bad has to happen for you to have hope.” A life free of pain and problems might be a life without hope. At her young age she is already understanding that the source of hope is beyond. There may be a power in positive thinking, but hope is beyond that power. This is not to say that one might cause hope to emerge by creating crisis. Hope emerges not because of the events of this world, but in spite of the events of the world.
My hope comes from the understanding that I am a part of something much bigger than myself. There is much more to this universe than what I am able to presently observe. There are conversations that did not begin with me and will not end when my time on this earth is over. We humans have the capacity to engage ideas that are much bigger than ourselves.
The group in which I was participating yesterday afternoon has a practice of sharing celebrations and concerns at the end of our conversations. We recognized a couple of birthdays and celebrated healing and recovery following an accident for one of the participants. There was joyful and exciting announcement of a new baby that will be born in the spring. Our conversations about hope were interesting. The capacity of the group to embody hope was even more impressive. Hope isn’t just a concept, it is a way of living. The group itself was an even deeper source of hope than the words that were said.
As centered as my life has been in the institutional church, I have been discovering that there is an exciting sense of new creation coming not from the center of the institution, but from the edges. I am inspired by some of my conversations with those who don’t really think of themselves as regular church goers - who aren’t very concerned about maintaining buildings or keeping membership lists and statistics. Maybe it has always been true that new ideas come from unexpected places.
In the morning I was the preacher. In the afternoon I was a listener. My life is blessed with both roles. It is clear that God isn’t finished with us yet. There is newness emerging and it is exciting.
One of the advantages to being on the edge of my aging years is that I can listen to the thoughts and ideas of others and put them into a bit of context in my own life. When I was younger, I might have wanted to dive into the conversation immediately to express my own thoughts and opinions without taking the same effort to listen. I grew up in a household where conversation and debate was encouraged and often viewed conversation as a kind of competitive sport at which I had to show aggression to win.
The conversation yesterday was much more positive. I didn’t have any points I needed to make, no desire to convince others of my point of view. I may be wrong, but I experience this as a product of age and maturity. I have no fear of being negatively influenced by the thoughts and ideas of others and that sensation is something that is relatively new to me.
Our conversation, however, just began to scratch the surface of the meanings of hope.
People often don’t know what they are talking about. Talking about things is one of the ways that we develop ideas and concepts. Some topics and concepts take many generations to become clear. We don’t know when people first began to talk about God, but we do know that the ancients had some ideas about God that were rather small. It took a series of dramatic events for our people to discover that God was bigger than the small area of land that was familiar. The thought that God might be the same in a distant location hadn’t occurred to them. Understanding that there is only one God took many generations. There was a long time when our people thought that the gods of other people were distinct and different from the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. It is only relatively recent that we were able to begin to grasp the immensity of the universe. Previous images of God as somehow unique to this planet fall short of the glory we now are only beginning to envision.
I had a sense, in yesterday’s conversation, that we were struggling to develop a common understanding of a concept that was much bigger than our small gathering. Beginning to understand hope will require much more conversation and then we will not fully grasp is deepest meanings. I expect that we will have opportunities for those conversations as time passes.
That is another advantage of growing older. I have learned that the really great ideas and concepts of this world will continue to be refined and conversations will continue. I don’t have to lead all of the discussions. The development of understanding doesn’t hinge on my participation. I am hopeful not because I expect to know the full truth, but because those who are younger than I are seriously wrestling with ideas and that process of development will last beyond the span of my time on this earth. The fact that our presenter was willing to tackle such a big topic at such a young age was for me in itself hopeful. There is more to this world than what is immediately observable.
Hope is more than optimism. It is more than a positive attitude. Our speaker yesterday understood this. She said, “Sometimes something really bad has to happen for you to have hope.” A life free of pain and problems might be a life without hope. At her young age she is already understanding that the source of hope is beyond. There may be a power in positive thinking, but hope is beyond that power. This is not to say that one might cause hope to emerge by creating crisis. Hope emerges not because of the events of this world, but in spite of the events of the world.
My hope comes from the understanding that I am a part of something much bigger than myself. There is much more to this universe than what I am able to presently observe. There are conversations that did not begin with me and will not end when my time on this earth is over. We humans have the capacity to engage ideas that are much bigger than ourselves.
The group in which I was participating yesterday afternoon has a practice of sharing celebrations and concerns at the end of our conversations. We recognized a couple of birthdays and celebrated healing and recovery following an accident for one of the participants. There was joyful and exciting announcement of a new baby that will be born in the spring. Our conversations about hope were interesting. The capacity of the group to embody hope was even more impressive. Hope isn’t just a concept, it is a way of living. The group itself was an even deeper source of hope than the words that were said.
As centered as my life has been in the institutional church, I have been discovering that there is an exciting sense of new creation coming not from the center of the institution, but from the edges. I am inspired by some of my conversations with those who don’t really think of themselves as regular church goers - who aren’t very concerned about maintaining buildings or keeping membership lists and statistics. Maybe it has always been true that new ideas come from unexpected places.
In the morning I was the preacher. In the afternoon I was a listener. My life is blessed with both roles. It is clear that God isn’t finished with us yet. There is newness emerging and it is exciting.