There are plenty of books, sermons, seminars, tips, and tricks that promise quick, easy, numbered steps to spiritual growth and fulfillment. This is certainly true–perhaps especially true within Christian culture. We want growth that is easy, hoping spiritual maturity will be accomplished the same way that infomercial promises you a six pack: fast and easy.

Have you ever seen a Sequoia tree before? The largest tree on earth is the one pictured in this blog.  General Sherman stands almost the length of a football field (275 ft) and has an estimated age of 2300-2700 years old.

Similarly, perhaps you have had the pleasure of meeting an older woman or man who has lived steadily seeking God for years and years. Those that have often exude love, wisdom, truth and beauty. They have carried their love of God, and their pursuit of the divine throughout the course of their life, and the end result is inspiring.

Like the spiritual lives of these folks, this sequoia grew slowly too– one year at a time–steadily reaching for more and more light.

And it makes sense that this is how we should approach our spiritual growth too. Steady desire and deeply held passion, a long-lasting, persevering compulsion. True seeking over time yields deeply rooted faith.

We should remember the fundamental promise: “Seek and you will find”.

If we are honest, the quick approach is really about us and our spiritual self-satisfaction . Its about merit badges and brownie points. It is geared toward information rather than experience and the mind which can adopt and discard beliefs quickly, and turn on a dime. But the heart changes like the sequoia– slowly over time, and steadily as we reach for more and more light.

When Polly and I we were first married we lived in a small one bedroom apartment on a less than desirable street in the city of St. Louis. We lived on a diverse block, one where the effects of financial and moral struggle were evident. Both of the apartment buildings next to us were vacant and boarded up, the alley behind our apartment was the dumping ground for our neighborhood, and many a mattress and soiled lazy-boy were laid to rest there. But that was okay with me, because I just chopped them up and used the wood for our fire pit. Our experience there was great, that is, until the people living below us verbally assaulted us, so we decided to move.

We enjoyed the surrounding neighborhood and culture, so we ended up moving just a block away where we lived for about a year.

Eventually we moved to Kirkwood, where we live now, and where I grew up, after being given the opportunity to live in a duplex and take care of Randy, an 89 year-old family friend.

The transition wasn’t always an easy one. Initially I felt like I was selling out and moving to the ‘burbs. Because, generally speaking, Kirkwood is an upper-middle class city where almost 90 percent of the population is caucasian. Not exactly the picture of demographic diversity. Somedays it can feel like a Normal Rockwell painting, idyllic  and depending on your perspective, both attractive and repulsive at the same time.

While there are real and significant socio-economic differences between the two places I have lived, there are commonalities that transcend these distinctions. These shared struggles are ones that are common to everyone, I think.

The common thread is the poverty of the heart.  By poverty, I simply mean a brokenness, a lack of wholeness, and a tendency to be enslaved.

There are forms of poverty everywhere, but they manifest in different forms and with different outcomes. And while the effects are more visible on that street in the city, they are no less present in Kirkwood.

In Kirkwood, spiritual and emotional poverty may manifest itself by being consumed by materialism, by obsessing about status, and your perfect lawn.

If we want real change in the world we have to start with our hearts and move outward from there. A changed heart affects a person, who affects a family, who affects a community who affects a city, and so on.

The beauty of what Jesus taught is that despite the poverty and the slavery within, we are loved and held, and there is grace for us. Being loved by God and loving others is the very first step toward ending any type of poverty. He knew that love is where all freedom begins.

Luckily for me,

The poet left wide

margins on the page

For me to scribble

feverishly

Notes, critiques,

suggestions for

improvements.

A freshly sharpened

Pencil

Is exchanged for a

Fine-tip Sharpie-

The kind that bleeds

Through the page–

Inevitably reminding you,

For years to come,

That you should always,

Under all circumstances,

Have a scrap of paper at hand

to tuck under the page

to take the blow

But as I’m up

Searching for the perfect

Paper to sacrifice

I notice the rain

Falling just beyond the glass

I am mesmerized–

Caught off guard by its rhythm and the shimmer it brings

I sink deeply and longingly into the moment

Drawn in and seduced by the music of it all

Forgetting, for a precious second, the paper,

The Sharpie ,

And those inevitable blots.

Primped, fashioned and folded

It’s all so romantic there

With the dining room table adorned with bread hand kneaded from artisan flower, flickering candles, your intentionally mis-matched china, the hand picked flowers in mason jars

All the while your sad antique typewriter looks longingly at you,

Ignored since the day he was carefully positioned, at a slight angle, atop a stack of old, unread volumes of Russian literature

And we won’t mention the cluster of empty picture frames that frame nothing.

It’s summer now, but each of the guests have arrived prepared, even, it seems, for a sudden unexpected frost. Yes, each neck is adorned loosely with a fine hand dyed scarf

At first, it appears that the hostess has followed the teachings of Jesus and invited in some homeless for a banquet. But upon further inspection, this assumption is betrayed by the black thick-framed Prada glasses that sit just inches above a handlebar mustache.

And so you gather, like all of us do, to enjoy the fellowship of your companions; to belong

But when nine o’clock strikes

There you are on the 23rd floor

In the cubicle next to me

Pecking digits into Excel on an IBM keyboard

With your very fashionable hair

photo by Katie Baker

A few years ago I was living in Chicago, depressed, unmotivated and fresh from the breakup of a band that I had given the previous couple years to. It was my dream, my greatest ambition to be in a successful band. I wanted it so bad. My identity, worth, and value was tied up in reaching success in this area. But then it ended.

I was left to figure out what to do after the death of that dream, the destruction of that destination.

What followed in the last few years has been a really healthy process of coming to terms with my life not unfolding in the way I hoped and planned. It has been the process of re-imagining this failure, and others, as being the catalyst for growth rather than death, and the very soil from which future fruit will spring.

Now, I am becoming more comfortable with approaching life as a journey rather than a movement towards an ultimate destination.

We each have milestones that we cross, goals achieved and victories won. But, there is always more ahead, because there is always more to discover about ourselves, the world and God.

Often, I approach life with a destination paradigm… the “when I reach this point I will be happy…” sort of thinking. But I know that is not reality. It won’t happen. Happiness is in the journey: the here, the now, the growth.

Happiness is not having what you want. It is wanting what you have.

Rabbi Hyman Schachtel

This approach does not mean we live with less intentionality.  It simply means that as we live purposefully, we keep contentment in our back pocket.

This perspective can even save us from mistakes. Polly and I would really like to buy a house sooner than later. But, the reality is that we are not in the financial position to do that yet. We have committed to following Dave Ramsey’s financial plan before purchasing a home. This means being out of debt and having an emergency fund of 3-6 months of expenses before purchasing a house. Even still, yesterday we were looking at homes and  home loans online. I was plugging in the numbers to see what we might be qualified for. It was all in good fun, and sort of a tease, but buying a home now would go against our better judgement.

It’s tempting for me to believe that home ownership is another destination. It’s a great goal, but if I let it become a destination that my happiness relies upon, I might be more apt to make a decision that goes against my better judgement.

This journey paradigm helps me to think about life’s milestones with the “I’ll get there when I get there” perspective.  And really, that’s okay with me.

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You saw the bright spots before I did-

You saw it in the distance, and you saw it in me.

And patiently you pulled me into its beam.

I hope I can be a net for you like you were for me

There was softness in your words

And patience, too.

And in the end, that was the genius

There is concrete all around us,

Waiting for a fall, waiting for our skin.

I hope I can be a net for you

like  you have been for me.

Yesterday, I noticed a coke bottle that read, “Save the Polar Bears”.  I had to wonder, despite their benevolent efforts, “what in the world does drinking coke have to do with saving the polar bears?   Wouldn’t consuming a coke in a plastic bottle somehow hurt the polar bears?”  I’m not a scientist, but maybe one who is could help me connect these dots… Either way, if you are trying to save the polar bears there are surely better ways to do so than by consuming a quarter of your daily calorie allotment, and then discarding a bottle.

You may be wondering where I am going with this. My point is that often our beliefs are rootless, having no bearing on how we truly act. See, Coke is selling you on the idea that you really do believe in saving the polar bears. They lead you to think that perhaps their sincere, unadulterated passion for the preservation of polar bears, partnered with yours will do the world some good. And since you hold this belief, they kindly help you believe you are acting on this belief, by spending $1.75 on Coke. The reality is, we consume 584 BILLION servings of coke products globally each year (http://www.coca-cola.co.uk/about-us/coca-cola-by-numbers.html), and their add campaign to raise $2,000,000 to help the polar bears habitat, is not much of a sacrifice for them or us. But I, like many people, like to align myself with values I don’t actually have to live by. Most coke consumers are probably not polar bear advocates or in line to go to the arctic to help them out, but now they like to feel like they are.

This is a perfect example of the breakdown between belief and being. Isn’t belief supposed to fundamentally change our whole being-the mental, physical, emotional and spiritual?  But, beliefs are cheap when we hold them ONLY because they make us feel or look better. Aligning myself with a set of beliefs, without the hard work of doing and being, is worthless unless my heart is changed, my actions change and I become a new person. In fact, when we hold beliefs without actions we are worse off, because then suddenly we have license for self-righteousness.

At this point it would be helpful to take an honest assessment of ourselves and make the distinction between what we actually believe (and prove by our actions) and what we think we should believe. For example, I think I should believe that serving the poor and helping widows is important, but I rarely act on this belief. I really want to grow in this area, perhaps some of you can help me. There are many more areas just like this one.

If I were honest, I would say that I am not a polar bear advocate, and I just like drinking coke with no other thought in mind.  But here I am, on a leisurely stroll up my “belief” slope with a white cuddly bear in tow, chugging a Coke, believing I just saved an endangered species.

Being is the truest form of believing isn’t it?

The other day Polly and I went to an open house for a large, beautiful home for sale in our neighborhood. We aren’t in the market to buy a home, and if even if we were, this home was clearly out of our price range with a price tag of $800,000. But we wanted to take a look anyway, just for fun. This home was huge and beautiful: three stories with an expansive kitchen, master bathroom, third floor man cave… the works. We walked around gawking wide-eyed at this home, and noticing that the owners were not much older than we were–at least they didn’t appear to be by their family pictures.

After we were done hiking around this house, Polly and I got back in our car and drove away feeling deflated and a bit defeated. We went back to our modest, one story home, wondered where the other two stories were, and I sat around for the next hour thinking of how I could make more money.

The thing is, I wasn’t all that dissatisfied before going into the home, but when I came out I somehow experienced a loss. Why?

At times like these I have trouble owning my life. Instead,  it is easy for me to begin wishing my life were more like someone else’s. It is important to note that this is exaserbated by the fact that we live in a Facebook culture where everyone puts their best face forward by curating their life, often only displaying their shining moments for the rest of us to see…

The important thing I must remember is that my story is my story, and until I own that, I cannot live fully in my story with all the passion that I am called to live with. I don’t have someone else’s life, and very importantly, nobody has my life.

I would be remiss if I did not make the distinction between outright envy and healthy desire. Sometimes there are seeds of healthy desire when we covet, and it’s very important to discern the difference between what is healthy and unhealthy. Whenever I experience a desire I must evaluate if there are true or right desires that lie beneath the initial desires. In recognizing these true desires I am able to acknowledge what is right and do away with the wrong. Perhaps my coveting/annoyance of someone’s in-shape physique is a healthy desire for me to live a more active, healthy lifestyle.

I am finding freedom as I have begun, feebly, to move through this process. There is great power, contentment and peace that flows and follows when my heart is satisfied, and most importantly, thankful for my circumstances. When I actively own my life, I actively trust. I trust that as long as I am an excellent steward of what God has given me, I will be very blessed: relationally, spiritually, emotionally and maybe, materially.

Do good where you are. Be thankful. As they say, “the best things in life are free”.

How do you approach contentment?

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photo by Katie Baker

I am prone to over calculate. You see, there are two sides of me that engage in a civil war: the Calculator and the Poet. One is my free spirited, intuitive side.  And the other side is logical, over analyzes and is prone to worry.

The Poet is expressed when I am connected with my inner life. In this state I am able to rest, dream and see life with a wider lens. Conversely,  the Calculator is the one that plans, over thinks and over analyzes everything. Unfortunately,  the Calculator usually wins over the Poet. For me, its easier to try and control than to trust.

This battle can be exhausting and I am trying to strike a better balance between the two in my life. I have discovered that in order to find this balance I must be living with two states of the heart: trust and rest.

I must actively trust that everything will be fine, that God is loving and that I am not left to go at this alone. This truth takes root when I cultivate a life of rest and peace.  My hope is that as I trust and rest that the Poet will be able to live more fully.

photo by Katie Baker

You kindled the fire,

You struck a match, yes you struck the match

Then we watched the wood turn in to red

As quickly as it roared

It burned down low

When you left me here alone

But we poured red wine

and touched our glasses

While we watched our world turn to ashes

Yes, we poured red wine

and touched our glasses

We enjoyed our love, while it lasted

The smoke and the tears

Thinking on years

Thinking on memories

Of what we used to be

Before you left me here alone

Left me here alone

To carve your name in a stone.

But we poured red wine

and touched our glasses

While we watched our world turn to ashes

Yes, we poured red wine

and touched our glasses

We enjoyed our love, while it lasted