To dream or not to dream...

Before you read this post, make sure you get a little context by reading the latest Pascal quote that I've been thinking on lately. Also the movie Vanilla Sky may come to mind if you've ever seen it.

The question at hand relates to our insatiable desire to always want to be somewhere else, to do something else with our lives, something bigger, something better. We dream...and we're far better off for it, I do believe. What greatness would ever be achieved if we didn't dream? I resonate with George Mallory who, in response to the question "Why climb Everest?" replied, "Because it's there." It called out a challenge to him. It gave him a dream. Dreams are about being involved in something bigger than yourself. Something bigger than average, better than normal. Have you ever awoken from a dream only to wish you could fall back asleep because you quite enjoyed it there? It was much more enjoyable and satisfying than the reality you wake up to. That present reality, which we all live in, is far to real, with all it's pains, frustrations, annoyances, interruptions, discontentment. So we dream. Yet dreams are merely a hope, a favorable expectation of a future that may or may not ever exist. But in contrast to this present reality, we dream in perfect color, the way things could be. So we're lead to the question, if our dreams are so great, why don't we drop everything and pursue them with abandon? What is it that keeps us from following our dreams? Fear perhaps. Fear of the unknown. Fear that if we pursue our dream into the present then it may not be as perfect as we imagined it to be. Fear that if it doesn't work out then we'll have nothing to fall back on. And so we remain in discontented reality...with our dreams. But what of those who do follow their dreams? Those who give up average for the hope of fulfillment? When they get there, is it all they imagined it to be? Or do they only find another dream, like climbing to the top of a mountain only to find another mountain on the other side of the valley? So ultimately we've come to the question, is it possible to live your dream? Does anyone ever really honestly say I wouldn't rather be doing anything else than what I'm doing right now, I wouldn't rather be anywhere else than where I am right now? Is that true contentment? Is that life fulfillment?

I'm not totally convinced. Like Pascal says, we can't go on living in times that are not our own (ie, the future, our dreams). The only time we have to live is the present. So does that devalue our dreams? On the contrary, I think it revalues the in-betweens. Follow your dreams, but live the journey. Climb your Everest, but find joy in the climb, not just the summit. Maybe in the end dreams aren't really a place to be, or something to do, but a joy to hold. To hold that joy in this present reality, in the everyday, that's contentment, that's the dream.

So we continue to dream...and are much better off for it, I do believe.

Concerning fear, love, and loss

So I was just watching one of my favorite movies, Good Will Hunting, and I was struck by a conversation that paralleled some things that have recently been stirring my thinking. In a conversation between Will, an emotionally detached, young genius, and Sean, his shrink, Will asks if Sean ever wondered what his life would be like if he had never married his wife, who had died of cancer two years earlier. Sean goes on to reply that he never regretted the years of joy because of the years of pain, but he would've regretted seeing this girl in a bar and never knowing what would've happened if he had only talked with her. Meanwhile, Will doesn't want to give his heart to this girl, Skylar, because he's afraid that if she finds out about all his imperfections then she'll leave. He's not convinced the potential joy is worth the hypothetical loss.

That reminds me of these words I recently wrote to a friend:

Why is it that love always has to end in loss? Truly the tragic curse of the soul, our greatest hurt bound intimately with our greatest joy. But I suppose it's destined to work out that way. So then we're left with "it is better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." I guess I can accept that.

This goes right along with that quote from Pascal [reference earlier post]. If we constantly fear the pain of loss destined in the future then we will never experience the joy of love in the present. Or on the other hand, as with my friend and I, if we cling to our grief, remembering past loves, we miss those opportunities of new loves right in front of us. Or as Sean, the shrink, would say, it's time to put your money back on the table and see what kind of cards you get.

We never keep to the present.

"We never keep to the present. We . . . anticipate the future as if we found it too slow in coming and were trying to hurry it up, or we recall the past as if to stay its too rapid flight. We are so unwise that we wander about in times that do not belong to us and do not think of the only one that does; so vain that we dream of times that are not and blindly flee the only one that is . . . [We] think of how we are going to arrange things over which we have no control for a time we can never be sure of reaching . . . Thus we never actually live, but hope to live, and since we are always planning how to be happy, it is inevitable that we should never be so." ~Blaise Pascal

I've quite enjoyed meditating on that quote recently and don't have much commentary that could add to it, so I'll just let it speak for itself.

Love Advice from the Gridiron

You often learn the most profound things from the oddest places. So it should be no big surprise that my recent discoveries concerning love come from none other than the football field. No surprise to some who know of my slightly less than fanatical love of football, but surprise to me nonetheless. As many of you probably know, my New England Patriots lost in the divisional round of the playoffs after winning the last 2 Super Bowls. They were on their way to an unprecedented 3 consecutive Super Bowl victories when they were stopped short by their first playoff loss in at least 5 years. Now I've experienced playoff losses before, even a Super Bowl loss, but none struck me quite as hard as this one, and that's what took me by surprise. But that's also what helped me to realize that grief is proportional to love. You know exactly what I mean because those people who right now are saying, "Oh good grief" really have no love for the game, or a particular team. They say that those who can utter the words "It's only a game" have no love for the game. And those who say "There's always next year" just don't quite understand. But for those of us who have invested so much into following their team from free agency, to draft day, to training camp, through pre-season, the ups and downs of the regular season, and triumphantly into the post-season, there is nothing but this season. One friend told me this year he's been following the Minnesota Vikings since their induction to the league in 1961. For those fans, affectionately termed by some as fan-atics, there is nothing greater than watching your team hoist the Lombardi trophy in the air surrounded by confetti in team colors. And it's the ever present hope of that scene that causes us to carry on. But as there is always joy in love, so there is also grief. Two books that I have read recently have also helped greatly along these lines, A Severe Mercy by Sheldon VanHauken and A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis. Grief and loss are not one in the same, nor should they be feared as though they are not a natural part of love. Grief helps clarify and identify love. We shouldn't run from it as though to cut it off before it's natural term, nor over-extend it as though to keep our beloved alive. It's the continuing process of love, not a state or a phase, but an ongoing process. It's a necessary part of the journey of love. I don't know what action I mean to imply by these thoughts. Perhaps it would shed a little light on what it means to "mourn with those who mourn" if we really knew the true extent of love. Perhaps it would help us to love a little deeper understanding that loss is inevitable and grief is a consummation of love. Or perhaps just to stop telling me "it's only a game, get over it", to figure out what things you grieve over with the thought of loss, and to embrace them with all your heart. Because it's true that deeper love brings greater loss, but it also brings greater joy, and I wouldn't trade that for the world.

Desires of the Spiritual Life

My latest ponderings have been over the question of desires, also termed wants, affections, pleasures, satisfaction. How much does desire have to do with the spiritual life? My friend, Richard Griffin, proposes that spirituality is "wanting to want what God wants." Along those lines I might propose a three tiered processes of spirituality. We begin in life wanting what's best for us. This is a very carnal, fleshy, self-centered stage. We can see this clearly in our natural development. Babies cry when they don't get what they want. Children fight, rebel and manipulate to get what they want. Many never grow out of this stage through their teen and adult years. These learned tendencies from childhood don't disappear with maturity but, to different extent for all, haunt us for the rest of our lives. If you think I'm painting this in a bad light you are absolutely correct, for a baby's very survival depends on it's demanding what it wants. It's not always evil-intentioned, but natural. Satisfaction at this stage can be found in both believers and non-believers. Carnal spirituality naturally accompanies youth and immaturity. However, true joy is not found in this stage. If we stall our development in this stage because we are too enamored with our own selfish desires we are, as C.S. Lewis says, "far too easily pleased."

The second stage I would propose is a subtle shift from wanting our best to wanting what's best for others. In this stage we come to realize we are not the center of our own universe, that other people have desires of their own, and that it is indeed a joy to help them fulfill those desires. This is Jesus' command, "Love your neighbor as yourself." In this stage we also find those who believe in Christ and those who do not. Lately the media has been flooded with celebrities and humanitarian aid missions that that help fulfill others desires for their own joy, ie. Angelina Jolie, Red Cross, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition, etc. They love others not for Christ's sake but for the secret joy found only in wanting what's best for others. However, this too is not the ultimate joy. We must press on to stage three to discover the true joy in fulfilling our created purpose.

The third stage I propose is moving from wanting what's best for others to wanting what's best for the Kingdom. This is the only stage that limits itself to those believers in Christ because its very satisfaction is found in God. This is Jesus' command, "Love the Lord your God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength." This is Bernard of Clairvaux's fourth degree of love: Love of self for God's sake. This is John Piper's theme, "God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in Him." This is Job saying, "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." This is us finding our desire, our affection, our satisfaction in the advancement of glory of God. It means trusting in His sovereignty and saying with Christ in Gethsemene, "Not mine, but Your will be done." Wanting to want what God wants, our greatest joy in His greatest glory.

"Your name and Your renown are the desire of our hearts." (Is. 26:8)
"Delight yourself in the Lord; And He will give you the desires of your heart." (Ps. 37:4)