Don't Worry. Just Don't!

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It was the great American author, Mark Twain, who wrote "Drag your thoughts away from your troubles... by the ears, by the heels, or any other way you can manage it."

Isn't it remarkable how much time we devote to worrying, to something that has absolutely nothing constructive about it and has nothing to do with positive resolution? To clarify, I'm not talking about planning. I'm talking about worrying. Worry is the creation of imagined negative circumstances when none exist. Worry is a negative forecast when none is guaranteed.

Most of us would probably agree that worrying doesn't do us any good, but the reality is that often we find ourselves in circumstances that challenge our sense of comfort or security. So what do we do to deal with the onslaught of difficulty?

Dale Carnegie, in his book, How To Stop Worry and Start Living, lays out a great technique for working through worry. He suggests taking the circumstance that we are worried about and considering the worst possible outcome imaginable. Then starting with the worst and building up from there, slowly begin solving those worst case scenarios. After doing this for a bit you'll discover that your current predicament isn't really that big of a deal.

For example, lets say that your bank account is in overdraft and you can't pay your mortgage (which is not far from many people's circumstances). Let's start with the worse case scenario: that you are homeless and living on the streets. So let's solve that problem.

Do you have a friend or family member you can stay with? Have you thought about where the homeless shelters are located. Go ahead and make a list. Where are the food banks? Add those to your list. Make it detailed, remember, you need to treat it like a real scenario.

Well, suffice to say, after doing this for a while, you will be amazed how quickly you realize that your current situation seems much less overwhelming. And you will begin to understand that troubles are a lot like people - they grow bigger if you nurse them.

Embracing the Other

The writer Frederick Buechner is quoted as saying, "Compassion is sometimes the fatal capacity for feeling what it is like to live inside somebody else's skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too.”

Let's talk about the "other" person. You know, the guy who stands in line at the grocery store, or coffee shop who's obnoxious and crude, who seems to say whatever comes to mind and doesn't seem to understand what the word "filter" means. Or then again, maybe the other person for you is that lady who seems to ride a broom stick to work, who is uptight and short and in your opinion needs to learn the meaning of the phrase, "live a little."

So it's easy to recognize the fact that you either don't understand, or just don't like the other person, but how often do we consider the reality that they are part of our life whether we like it or not? They are another plant in the ecosystem of our social experience. And like any garden, or environment, we depend on them as much as they depend on us. It may not be immediately apparent to us, but the simple fact of their presence in our life means that they already have an effect on us.

So we have a choice, we can choose to not acknowledge these other people, or we can choose to take a moment to step inside their skin for a brief second and ask them how they are doing, or who their favorite author is. The question doesn't really matter. What matters is gaining an understanding of who they are.

In the end, our happiness is directly linked to the people around us. We can choose to be annoyed by those who test our patience, or we can choose to enjoy their presence by extending an arm of understanding and compassion. Chances are, somebody has already done so for us.

But You're a Christian

The other night I was out at a local pub...it was one of the local Seattle bars that is gay friendly. I was sipping on my soda and lemon enjoying some lighthearted conversation with a few of my friends who came out to socialize.

We were continuing in our typically friendly banter when one of my friends stopped and point-blank asked me, "So, I've just gotta ask ya...are you ever horny?" placing a heavy emphasis on the word "ever." I was taken aback by his brutal honesty, but that was sort of his style, a quality that I dearly appreciate.

I took a sip of my soda and thought about my reply. He was waiting with baited breath, as were a couple of other people standing around us who were caught in the vacuum of his question, curiously anticipating what my answer would be.

Now, I have to say that part of me wanted to play the stoic, but truth be told, I am not. And what benefit is there to being dishonest? I set my drink down and simply said, "When am I not." He laughed, as did a couple of others around me, much to my relief.

And then came his reply, "But, your a Christian," he said with an elongated emphasis on Christian.

I retorted, "Well, yeah. But I'm also human!"

Frankly, it set me back on my heels a bit to be called a Christian. I've become so used to being labeled NON-christian due to my book, arguing for the acceptance of gay-partnered persons in the church. Unbeknownst to him, my friend actually paid me a huge compliment and favor: letting me acknowledge my discipline of faith, while being very generous in letting me be just as human as everyone else.

I think it is all too often that those representing the Christian Church fail to realize the benefit of honesty. It is one thing to be a proponent of responsible living, it is another thing to not acknowledge our own human realities. Sometimes sharing our humanity with others is a more powerful communication of love and empathy than requiring sacrifices we ourselves hope that God will ignore on our behalf.

Gratitude of the Simple

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow said, “In character, in manner, in style, in all things, the supreme excellence is simplicity.”

I remember as a kid sitting at my grandma Lentz's dining table. She would cook us a steak, potatoes, and some sort of vegetable. The first thing that I would do would be do reach for the salt and pepper, ketchup, A1, or whatever other condiment I could get my hands on...after all, more meant better, right?

It used to send my grandma through the roof. I can still remember her pulling the condiments away from me and saying, "David, you need to learn how to enjoy the steak the way it is. There's plenty of taste there for you. But you will never realize it by covering it with all that stuff. You need to stop and appreciate it for what it offers you all by itself."

My grandmother, God rest her soul, was a child of the Great Depression. Her family pioneered the beautiful Mission Valley back in the Old West days of Montana, while it was still a territory. Their life was like most people's during those days, difficult and often very very simple. She would tell me about the times when her parents would send her into town to try and coax the mercantile owner into extending some credit so she could bring home a bag of flour.

When she saw that steak on my plate, she did not see yet another meal, she saw a choice. Sitting on that 1950's dish-ware was not a momentary satiation, but a moment of opportunity. It was a moment to consider the tremendous amount of suffering that many are enduring. It was a moment to appreciate the good fortune of a meal.

Our American society often thrives economically on making sure we know what we don't have. Innovation and marketing have their place. But let's not forget to consider the good fortune of having a common cup of coffee, or enjoying a simple home-cooked meal. In these difficult times, rather than looking at what other's may appear to have, let's instead decide to appreciate the simple things we may already possess. And if you doubt the value of a simple meal, I might recommend spending some time working at a soup kitchen, or stoping by one of the rest areas at night to see how many people are living out of their cars.