If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make a heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
Have you ever been in one of those funks where you just feel empty? You feel so empty inside that you don’t really feel anything at all? You’re numb and disconnected. Very recently, I had been in one of those ruts for several weeks and, try as I might, I just couldn’t get out. I had no desire to do good or get outside of myself. I had nothing in the tank. The thought of getting out and visiting someone to cheer them up or making food for someone–my usual means of de-funking my life and getting out of that rut–overwhelmed me. The very thought of it was exhausting. I had nothing. I was stuck. The only thing I could do was to pray and ask God for help. I asked God to help me find a way out.
I had no desire to do good or get outside of myself. I had nothing in the tank.
After several more days of this empty disconnectedness, I decided to take my 12-year-old daughter, Sophie, for a drive up the canyon to scout out my favorite fishing holes to see if the violence of winter, followed by the aggressive spring runoff, had damaged my favorite spots. As we were driving, we noticed a young couple–two teenagers–stopped on the side of the road. I drove right past them. Then that “something” inside of me–that voice that whispers to your soul–told me to turn around and go see if that young couple needed help. They did.
Turns out a jagged rock in the road had blown their tire and they had no clue as to how to remove it and replace it with the spare tire in their trunk. They didn’t know how to use the tire jack. They didn’t know how to remove the lug nuts. So I jacked up their car, removed the blown tire, and replaced it with the spare. They happily went on their way. And I happily went on my way, as well. But I wasn’t empty any more. I was filled with love.
Helping this young couple reminded me of one of the teachings in my book, Built to Love: “Yes, God’s love feels fleeting at times. But I think this is because we were created as conduits, not reservoirs, of God’s love. The miracle of God’s plan is that the best way we can keep God’s love is by giving it away. It seems that if you want to feel God’s love, you have to share it.”
Serving this young couple in this very small way made me feel connected to God once again, which was a good thing because I was scheduled to speak to a youth group at a local university the very next day. I was terrified of speaking to them about becoming built to love when I was overwhelmed with disconnectedness and felt no love inside of me at all. Fortunately, God heard my little prayer and put someone in my path to help me break the cycle.
When we perform acts of love and service we invoke the presence of God, for God IS love. “God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God, and God in him. (1 John 4:16.) Where love is, there God is also. So if you long for God’s presence, then stop thinking of yourself, stop brooding, and put yourself in the presence of others. Choose to love them and you will soon find yourself happy and in the presence of God. In the immortal words of Jean Val Jean from the beloved Les Miserables, to love another person is to see the face of God.
I am reminded, once again, of my “Proxy Triangle”:
Since Jesus taught “inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these … ye have done it unto me,” others stand as proxies for Him. That means there is a triangular relationship between me, God and others–an at-one-ment that brings us together through love and compassion. One of my favorite authors and teachers, Richard Rohr, recently explained it this way:
The Spirit of God, poured into our hearts as love (Romans 5:5), gathers us together in the body of Christ, transforming us so that “we become by grace what God is by nature,” namely, persons in full communion with God and with every creature.
It’s a beautiful thing to feel connected again. I know that darkness will return one day. I know that I will find myself lost in a cave of emptiness once more. This is because I am mortal, weak and still learning. This oneness or at-one-ment with everyone and everything waxes and wanes. But, through pursuing a path of discipleship, I am learning how to cope better. I am learning how to live.
As I look back on it, the things that caused the darkness to settle in were rather mundane and routine. I had spent too much time at work. I hadn’t been getting enough sleep. This rendered me self-centered instead of other-centered, and derailed me for a time on my journey to becoming built to love. As Jesus put it, “He that findeth his life shall lose it.” (Matthew 10:39.) Thankfully, however, a flat tire on the side of the road has me back on track.
Shouldn’t the questions you ask yourself at the end of your life be the same questions you ask yourself each day? If you were about to face your final judgment, what would you be asking yourself? Did I spend enough time at the office? Were my teeth white enough? Did my butt look big in those pants? Did I spend enough time at the gym? Was I popular? I don’t know what the ultimate questions would be. However, when I was given my two weeks notice by the doctor, the following questions are the ones that came to my mind as I thought about my most treasured relationships. Perhaps asking yourself these questions daily will prepare you to answer them in the days to come … and help you become built to love.
Question 1: Have I Listened?
To listen is to love. To be a sponge that absorbs the venom and toxicity of a poisoned soul is difficult. To mourn with those who mourn is painful. To listen to others can be a burden. It’s like being loaded up with log after log of life’s heavy lumber that you must haul away and stack in your own woodpiles of memory and experience. But this is what fuels relationships. This is what fuels love. As author and Mennonite minister David Augsberger wisely observed, “Being heard is so close to being loved that for the average person they are almost indistinguishable.”
This soul-to-soul communication puts you into communion with God because, remember, the “least of these” you listen to is a proxy for Jesus. (See Matthew 25:31-46.) Hence, to truly listen to another human being is to hear the voice of God.
“Listening is as close to acting for God as God will allow.”
Listening is also as close to acting for God as God will allow. Listening is, in essence, a form of receiving prayer. The realm of listening, therefore, is sacred ground. The miracle of listening is that it elevates you while you lift others. All of that lifting, hauling and stacking of life’s lumber transforms and strengthens us in the process, as well. We get to vicariously learn and experience life.
The hardest part about listening is that mere mortals are ill-equipped to solve problems. But that’s the beauty of it. You don’t have to solve anyone’s problems. You don’t have to have all the answers … or even any of them. Listening is its own medicine. Saying, “I honestly don’t know what to tell you because your burdens are so enormous and complex” to someone who is truly overwhelmed with life will be reaffirming to them, especially if you follow that with, “you’re an amazing person. You teach me so much.”
Listening is loving.
Question 2: Have I Encouraged?
There really is no excuse for failing to offer encouragement. You can text. You can message. You can email. Even just sending two or three words can make all the difference to someone’s day.
There are so many times throughout my battles with illness when a simple text made the difference between a day spent in loneliness, battling wrenching, nauseous pain, and a day where at least I didn’t feel so alone.
What can you say to offer encouragement?
“I’m hurting for you.” “You don’t deserve this.” “Keep fighting.” “Your example gives me strength.” “You are so strong.” “I’m on your side.” “I’m cheering for you.” “Don’t quit. We need you.”
There are a hundred simple things you can say to make someone feel loved and acknowledged. Of course, taking the time to explain what someone means to you and how they have influenced your life for good is even better. The point is, you must act. You must speak. You must say something. In the face of suffering or trial, your silence says a thousand things and none of them are good. As Martin Luther King, Jr. said it best, “There comes a time when silence is betrayal.” “In the end,” he said, “we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends.”
“There comes a time when silence is betrayal.”
If you don’t know what to say, say that. For someone suffering from extreme trials and burdens, to hear someone say “I don’t know what to say” is, strangely enough, very encouraging to them because it is validating. It shows that you “get it.” If you understand, maybe God understands. If God understands, then maybe there’s hope.
If all else fails, just remember listening is loving. Hugs are almost always welcome. Your tears also say a lot. It’s okay to cry with others. Tears are the cleansing and encouraging solvents of the soul.
Question 3: Have I Given?
The miracle of God’s plan is that the best way we can keep God’s love is by giving it away. It seems that if you want to feel God’s love, you have to share it. If you have listened or encouraged someone, you have given. But it also brings you a lot of happiness to physically give something to someone on a daily basis.
It doesn’t have to be big. Give a child some money. Stop at the lemonade or cookie stand and see what happens when you whip out a $5 bill. Don’t be a stingy tipper. Pay for the food order behind you in the drive through line. Donate money to charity. Give someone a book (especially mine!). Make cookies for someone. Send flowers. Take someone out to lunch. Find out what they like or enjoy and get it for them. Buy someone their favorite drink or smoothie. Sneak some money into your kid’s wallet or purse. Do it. It will make you feel good. I promise.
Remember the Platinum Rule.
The only rule here is be sure that your giving is empathy-guided. Remember the “platinum rule,” which is the proper interpretation of the golden rule. That rule, when properly understood, is not “do unto others as you would have done unto you.” It’s “do unto others as they would have done unto them.” What is it that “ye would [have] men … do to you?” To treat you the way you want to be treated. Jesus understood this and taught this simple truth. Give people what they want. (See Matthew 7:9-11.)
The reason I call this the “platinum rule” is because it takes a higher investment in others to live it. You have to know people well enough to understand what they want and need. You have to understand them. Love takes empathy.
The whole condescension of God illustrates this. The condescension of God teaches that you cannot truly love someone unless you somehow become them and experience their life vicariously and then love them the way they want to be loved.
Give today. Giving is living.
The Way of Discipleship
Daily asking yourself these three simple questions—“Have I listened? Have I encouraged? Have I given?”—will keep you focused as you strive to become built to love. It will also help keep you happy. Finally, asking these three questions of yourself daily will help you in the noble endeavor of trying to follow Jesus and prepare you for the day when there’s no more time for questions.
What has three years without food and living on a feeding tube taught me? Many things. But today I want to talk about grace. Grace is not a one-time act of rescue. It is not a one-night-only show. It is a lifestyle. It is a partnership with God. It is the means by which we mortals access the enabling power of God. Grace is not just an act of mercy or salvation. It is a process of transformation. Grace works. It works on us. It works with us.
To say that we are saved by grace is true but vastly understated and oversimplified. It’s like saying we are “saved” by oxygen. Grace makes spiritual respiration possible. It feeds the marrow of our souls. It sustains and transforms immortal metabolisms. We are saved by grace, changed by grace, sustained by grace and, consequently, amazed by grace.
Grace is even more than the enabling power of God. It is the enabling presence of God. It is the presence of God manifested not only through his Holy Spirit, but also through the kind and helping hands of others. It is the power that has sustained me for the past three years and allowed me to survive. Please watch this seven-minute video to learn more about my journey with grace:
For more ideas and discussion on suffering and utilizing love as a powerful coping mechanism for suffering, please read my books Gethsemamnesia and Built to Love, available now in paperback.