Loaves and fish and multiplication

I am a student of Andrew Murray (1828-1917). In his book With Christ in the School of Prayer, Murray sets intercessory prayer into the parable of The Friend at Midnight (Luke 11:5-8). In the parable, you have an unexpected guest show up at midnight and you go to another friend and ask for bread to serve your guest. Murray equates the guest to someone in need. God is the friend with bread. In intercessory prayer, we realize our lack of resources and seek out the One who has bread on behalf of our needy friend. I like that thought. It's not necessary for me to have resources to meet my friend's needs. I simply need to turn to the One who has resources and ask for bounty on behalf of my friend.

This morning, however, I realized that sometimes I'm less in the parable of the Fried at Midnight than in another story which Jesus showed rather than told. It's not that I have no bread in my cupboard at all. It's more that I'm holding on to five loaves of bread and two fish and see what seems to be five thousand hungry people looking expectantly at me (Luke 9:12-17).

I can't truthfully say to my needy friends, "I have absolutely nothing to offer you." The truth is, I am blessed and do indeed have a little extra to share. However, my meager resources aren't enough to satisfy the appetite of even one hungry person, let alone five thousand. I could give up my own supper and join the hungry crowd, but the little I have to offer is just a drop in the bucket in comparison to the need.

I wonder if God is still in the multiplication business. How many times do I refuse to share my resources in light of the enormity of the need and miss the blessing of seeing that multiplication factor at work?

I see enormous needs; I have limited resources for investing time, money, prayer, and emotional energy into those needs. I wonder what the process is for starting to pass out those loaves and fish. How much do I give to the first person among the five thousand who crosses my path today? How much do I save back for the second? How much will I give out before I see the multiplication start to happen?

"Here is a boy with five small barley loaves and two small fish, but how far will they go among so many?" (John 6:9)

Is God still in the multiplication business? It's an interesting question to ponder.

Experience - coming out the other side

Some recent discussions have brought to mind some of the darkest moments of my 50 years. One such discussion prompted me to pull out a prayer journal from over fourteen years ago, something I rarely do. Oh my! Such pain is on those pages as I went reeling emotionally from having the rug abruptly pulled out from under me in terms of ministry. Page after page after long, tedious page of journaling through the pain, trying to sort out what had happened and get my feet back under me so that I could face those involved without splattering them with emotional fallout. What I had condensed to a week or so in my memory actually dragged out much longer than that on paper. (I had to return to the attic for the next notebook before finding some resolution.)

I enjoy books written in first-person narrative where the narrator is focused on her own feelings and thoughts but gives the reader glimpses of what's happening in her world that she herself doesn't necessarily catch. (Recent examples are the Miss Julia series by Ann Ross for adults and the Princess Diaries by Meg Cabot for teens.) I was rather amused to find that in my own writing. In between the self-focused anguish and tears, there were glimpses of a friend who was caught completely by surprise by my meltdown in response to what seemed like a minor decision on his part. At one point he explained to me that I had a mental block and was immature. Even at the time I believed him, but it didn't particularly help anything. I was already working hard at overcoming both the mental block and the immaturity, but neither seemed to be dissolving away easily.

In those dark, dark days, I was walking carefully, aware that the phrase "this too shall pass" was still in effect. I expected to come out the other side and was committed to not sabotaging any relationships along the way -- either my own or the relationships between the people who cared about me and saw my pain and those who had knocked me off my feet. I expected to retain my friendship with everyone involved and didn't want to be responsible for rifts between those around me.

Fourteen years. That time, along with many other times of crisis and emotional duress, is now a part of my history. Sure enough, I came out the other side. My emotions stabilized, my spirits lifted, I mended my fences, and added each time of difficulty to my reservoir of experience upon which I can draw when I hit another difficult place or when I want to encourage others who are going through dark days.

Does anyone ever reach the point where they can weather the dark days with full assurance that what is happening to them will prove to be an invaluable experience in the days ahead? I can't say that my reaction to setbacks and perceived attacks is any less emotional than in days past. Maybe the most I can say is that I am more aware than ever that there is experience to be gained from the pain itself if I can simply survive long enough to get to the other side.

It has been more than twenty-one years since my third and last experience with natural childbirth. Going into that last time, I was aware that my previous labor experiences had been blessedly short. I prepared myself with the assurance that I could endure anything for eight hours, which experience told me was a reasonable expectation for the maximum duration of labor. However, when the labor pains were upon me, my confidence slipped away. Instead of saying, "I can endure anything for eight hours," I was reduced to saying, "I can handle this one contraction. I don't know about the next one, but I think I can make it through this one as long as it doesn't last more than two minutes."

One painful crisis at a time. And when added together they equal that great treasury called experience. Yet, each new crisis looms large and makes me wonder if this will be the pain that does me in. I'm still looking for a quicker path to the positive benefits of perspective.

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Book review - Organic Community by Joseph R. Myers

The full title of this book is Organic Community: Creating a Place Where People Naturally Connect. It is Myer's second book. The first is The Search to Belong: Rethinking Intimacy, Community, and Small Groups. I wrote about it here. Both books have given me much to consider.

In this second entry, Myers contrasts a "Master Plan" approach to leadership with a more natural, "organic" order. He focuses on nine areas of contrast. I won't pretend to have a full grasp of those nine areas, but I found much in his words to appreciate. I hope to do a re-read in the near future.

The first "aha" encounter for me was the contrast between representative and individual participation. He calls this "responsible anarchy." As one who tends to lead by consensus, I appreciated the value he placed on individual members of the organism. They shape the organism. They give form to it. Rather than leadership forming a master plan and looking for people to plug into the roles needed to accomplish that plan, individuals within the organization offer their unique abilities and passions and everyone works together to reach the goal. This fits well with my rejection of the statement oft heard in the church that "It's not about you." It IS about people, about individuals. All the individuals. Communities are comprised of individuals and individuals matter.

Another chapter is titled "Coordination" and expands further on the idea of involving individuals in creating the narrative for the organization. The contrast here is between cooperation and collaboration. In the former model, leadership creates the plan and looks to "team members" for cooperation in implementing it. In collaboration, the team works together. There is less structure. Things may look rather messy and out of control along the way. Individuals are valued for their potential contribution and empowered to find their own role.

Other chapters deal with such issues as creating an ongoing story rather than focusing on a bottom line, incorporating new resources by adjusting the form of the organism, making helpful suggestions concerning the contribution of others rather than watching for failure ("edit-ability" rather than accountability), having an attitude of "abundancy" rather than one of scarcity, rotating leadership roles to capitalize on the strengths of various individuals, and focusing on the verb nature of relationships. This final topic depicts language as a requirement and basis for thought in a manner that takes me back to another book I have enjoyed -- Live to Tell: Evangelism in a Postmodern Age by Brad J. Kallenberg.

Myers looks to nature for examples of the idea of organic community. Flocks of birds have no designated leader, yet they move together. Geese rotate the responsibility of being at the head of the "V." Organisms in nature move together without formal, permanent assignment of leadership roles.

This book comes at a good time in my life as I am finding new opportunities for leadership that don't necessarily include formal structure. It opens doors to a sort of "sloppy" leadership that keeps a general destination before the organization without dictating the route to be taken to get there.

Like a said earlier, this is a book I need to revisit.

The Difference Between a Christian and a Nice Person

Someone ran across an exchange I once started on a message board and asked me for further words on the subject.

The topic is: What is the difference between a Christian and a "normal" nice person? First, we need to define the terms. For this discussion, I will define a Christian as someone who studies and chooses to live by the teachings of Jesus Christ. That is a different definition than one which simply involves self-identification with the Christian religion. And it is different from one that defines a Christian as one who has been "born again".

There are many people who call themselves Christians who aren't very pleasant to be around. However, Jesus said that the greatest commandments are to love God and to love others. And it's a personal conviction of mine that loving people should lead to being generally kind and gentle in our interactions with them, an opinion which I could support with multiple Bible references.

Those who self-identify with the Christian religion but exhibit no evidence of love for others in terms of being nice to the people around them aren't part of my comparison here. The difference between that type of person and a "normal" nice person is obvious -- they aren't nice. However, there's a chance that they might still be genuine disciples of Jesus Christ who have yet to develop a consistent level of kindness in their lives. Although, my definition of being a Christian requires a desire to follow the teachings of Jesus Christ, it doesn't necessarily include great success at doing so. That's where grace comes in - from God and from those who have to deal with "rude Christians" (which oughtta be an oxymoron).

Jesus said that people would recognize his followers by their love. The question is, How is love that traces back to Jesus' teachings distinguishable from ordinary social skills that include being kind to those around us. My answer is that there's often no obvious difference in a civil setting. After all, Jesus said that anyone can love people who love them back. (Matthew 5:46) I think that includes being nice to people who are nice to us. As a disciple of Jesus Christ, I don't have to rely on my commitment to his teachings to be pleasant to pleasant people. Things simply go smoother for all of us when we practice social graces.

In my observation, the difference a commitment to Christ makes involves how we treat 1) those who are not nice to us; 2) those whose opinion doesn't matter to us.

So how do Christians treat such people when they are "at the top of their game"? The second group actually goes away. In loving others, Christians care about what they think, not because they are concerned about being liked but because they want what's best for others. Everyone becomes important to them, from the street beggar to the company owner. They care about people's opinions because they care about the people themselves. This is the first place that we begin to see the difference between a person demonstrating the love of Jesus and a "normal" nice person. In putting the teachings of Jesus into practice, the Christian is more genuinely concerned about more people.

That leaves the people who don't deserve our kindness. Will a commitment to following the teachings of Jesus Christ enable us to be consistently kind to people who, to put it mildly, aren't very nice? Again, it goes back to loving people, seeing them, caring about them, striving to understand them. The "normal" nice person starts to lose ground here. They may continue to be nice in hopes that it will bring good their way but it's often because they lack a better coping mechanism. Their "niceness" begins to look weak, as though they're unable to stand up to people who need someone to put limits on their behavior. In contrast, there is strength in the kindness exhibited by one who is kind because he or she is a Christian rather than out of weakness.

What started this thought process for me was the people who have told me that no one will ever know that I'm a Christian if I don't spell it out for them, e.g. "I am being nice to you because I am a follower of Jesus and not because you deserve it." That may be true for those who could reasonably expect kindness from me. It's when I treat people kindly for no reason at all other than that I am a disciple of Jesus Christ that there may be a noticeable difference.

What do you think?

The Value of Calculus

I took three semesters of calculus in college. As a librarian, I don't have a strong need for advanced math education. Most of what I learned so many years ago has long since faded from memory. Still, calculus has some small enduring value to me. Or maybe it's “pre-calculus” where most people meet the concept of limits.

Perhaps the easiest way to understand limits is to look at what happens if one divides by zero. What is the result for dividing 1 by 0 on a standard calculator? The answer is that it gives an error. Dividing by zero is not an allowed math operation. So no one knows what 1/0 equals, right? Well, sort of. Here is where limits come in handy. What if I calculate the value of 1/x and don't actually make x equal to zero but make it very small? I see that 1/1 = 1; 1/0.1 = 10; 1/0.01 = 100; 1/0.001 = 1,000; 1/0.0001 = 10,000; etc. Although I can never make x equal to zero, I can figure out that the smaller x becomes, the larger result I will get. If I could divide by zero, the smallest possible number, I would get the largest possible number, which is infinitely large. Thus, although I can't divide by zero, I know what the result would be if I could because I know where my answer is headed for progressively smaller values of x: infinity.

At the other end of the scale, I could ask myself what 1/x would be if x were equal to infinity. Again, I can't actually put infinity into the calculator and get an answer. However, if I calculate the results for increasing values of x, I discover that the answer becomes progressively smaller. If I could take x all the way to infinity, I would end up with a result of zero. 1/0 = infinity. 1/infinity = 0. Both those answers are determined by letting x come as close as possible to either zero or infinity and watching where the result is heading. The result of dividing 1 by any number between 0 and infinity will fall somewhere between infinity and zero. Thus, 1/x+1 will approach 1 as x approaches infinity and will approach infinity as x approaches zero. For every positive value of x, 1/x+1 will lie somewhere between 1 and infinity.

I find this process of determining the boundaries of an equation's result useful for answering certain philosophical questions. For example, in my last post I pondered the question of whether it is possible for one person to make another person happy. To find my answer, I assigned the person responsible for creating happiness in the life of another person to provide the maximum service possible to that other person. I made that responsible person into a slave. Attentiveness from this person approaches the maximum humanly possible. I then mentally assessed the happiness of the person receiving the full attention of that slave. My conclusion was that humans have no lack of ability to be dissatisfied even in the face of total attentiveness by the person they have made responsible for their happiness. A slave can't read the mind of the master. A slave can only work so fast and so hard and can be only one place at a time. A slave requires food and sleep. My conclusion was that, because of these limitations and others, an unhappy person will continue to be unhappy even with a fully dedicated slave. Therefore, if even dedicated slave-level service doesn't satisfy an unhappy person, I can conclude that no lesser level of service and attentiveness will make an unhappy person happy. There needs to be another source for happiness. Can a person affect the happiness of another person? Yes. But the other person will always have the capability of being completely unhappy regardless of the level of service rendered.

This is the value of calculus to me. It helps me solve certain mental puzzles by giving me endpoints to the possible range of answers as the unknowns move across their full spectrum of possible values.

x approaches infinity questions:

• What if everybody did it?
• What if I did it perfectly?
• What is the worst that could happen (maximum unpleasantness)?

x approaches zero questions:

• What if I did nothing?
• What if nobody did it?
• What is the best that could happen (minimal unpleasantness)?

After I find the limits, it is then easier to figure out the range of answers for likely values of the unknowns in life's equations, e.g. the level of friendship and service I have to offer to an unhappy person in my life will never be sufficient to make that person happy.

Three semesters of calculus for that. Or at least I haven't noticed any other residual effect of those classes. Does anyone have any other practical uses for higher math?

I Could Be Happy If Only You Were a Better Person

Sometimes I get the impression that I'm the sole obstacle to another person's happiness. Unhappy people tell me how unhappy they are and either blame their unhappiness directly on me, citing something I did (or didn't do) that robbed them of their joy, or tell me what would make them happy without mentioning my own ability to provide that missing ingredient. In the latter case, I'm never quite sure whether or not I'm supposed to take the hint and provide them with what they need in order to be happy.

This is a lot of responsibility. I already take responsibility for my own happiness. And much of my happiness traces back to being available for service to other people, to many people. The happy people in my life accept what I give them with gratitude. Their happiness doesn't depend on me but I can add to it. Most of the unhappy people in my life are independently unhappy and don't particularly notice me. There are just a few who seem certain that they could be happier if only I focused more of my time and energy on pleasing them.

I wonder. Has anyone ever found happiness in being served? Are people with devoted slaves to anticipate their every need happy people? I'm thinking not. Even the most devoted slave can't read the mind of his master and must sometimes fail to be fully pleasing. I can think of few more certain roads to frustration and anger than depending on someone else for one's contentment and joy.

So what do I do about the unhappy people who latch onto me as holding the key to their happiness? I can try to explain to them that joy comes through acts of service, but I don't think that is a concept that sells well.

In her book A Theology of Love, Mildred Bangs Wynkoop defined love as “impartial goodwill”. I think the best I can do for people looking to me to fix what's wrong with their world is to offer them the same level of service I offer to others. Sometimes it's easy to do less for those who show so little appreciation for small acts of service and consistently demand more. Other times, I find myself doing more -- service I don't want to provide and can't sustain.

Jesus Christ said that there will always be poor people among us. I suspect that's true not only in terms of financial poverty but in terms of emotional poverty. Serving those people with the same effort I invest in happy people might be the best I can do. If nothing else, doing so adds to my own sense of well-being. There is a certain satisfaction in neither walking away from a manipulator entirely nor giving into their demands but simply serving them as though they appreciated small acts of kindness.

Agree or Disagree: Prayer works

Just over a year ago, I wrote a post on the idea that "prayer works". You can read those thoughts here if you'd like, but it's not really necessary. Basically, I questioned what it means to say "prayer works". I have racked up a lot of unanswered prayers in my life and have watched people who are more optimistic than I am rack up even more.

One of my favorite people in the world is now on hospice care, dying of cancer at age 51. If prayer consistently worked for healing cancer patients, he would not be in this situation. I am far from the only one who values his friendship. The prayer that has bombarded heaven on his behalf is quite impressive by any measure. Hundreds of people spread across at least three continents are praying desperately for his healing. His mother has a history of seeing miraculous healings in response to her prayers. She is praying. Many of those praying have devoted their entire lives to God and the church, some serving in high levels of our denomination. Yet, he's dying. If "working" means always granting long life to those we love and for whom we pray, then, no, prayer does not work.

My experiments have revealed also that prayer doesn't work for getting signs from heaven. If you want God to prove His existence to you by giving you some sort of sign, you will likely be disappointed. Or at least it hasn't worked for me. In spite of my prayers, I have no proof of God's existence beyond what is available to all. My faith is at its core simply that -- faith.

So prayer doesn't work for keeping alive and healthy those we hold dear. And prayer doesn't work for giving us hard evidence concerning God. There's some disappointment there. What good is prayer if not for miracles of healing and signs of divine power at work among us?

This post was actually prompted not by disappointment with prayer but by a fresh realization of what a blessing prayer has been in my life. It takes perspective to see it, though.

Fifteen years ago, I prayed for people with whom to share my spiritual journey. After a while, one of the few people who filled that role in my life moved away. My prayers weren't working very well. However, from this perspective I can see that I was about to meet several people who have become dear friends. And the internet was about to open up a wealth of opportunities to communicate with like-minded people. Was it simply coincidence that my prayers back then were for the things that were about to happen?

Not quite so long ago, I started regularly practicing prayer and fasting for my church in response to a call by an internet friend to do so. After a year or two of praying that way, things were going so badly that I stopped the fasting part, suspecting that anyone involved would ask me to do so if they thought my prayers were behind the storm beating against the church. The results of those prayers were disastrous. However, from this perspective, I can see that we were about to enter a new era as a church. Some people aren't pleased with this new place where we've found ourselves, but I'm certainly not complaining.

One of my favorite verses from the Bible is Psalm 37:4 "Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart" (NIV).

Does prayer work? No, it doesn't. At least not like a working, well-stocked vending machine where you can expect a particular item to fall out if you put in the correct amount of change.

Does prayer work? I don't know, but sometimes when I pray terrible and unexpected things happen which precipitate delightful and unexpected blessings.

Does prayer work? It must! I pray and I am blessed at every turn.

On the other hand, a dear friend is dying too soon and all of the prayer in the world seems unable to prevent that from happening.

Does prayer work? On the survey I took that asked me that question, my response (blank) was tabulated as "not sure/no opinion". Maybe "I don't know" is the best answer I have. However, it bothers me a little that my response will show up in some set of ain't-it-awful statistics that will say, "___% of evangelical Christians responded that they don't know if prayer works."

Maybe what we need is a different question. Agree or disagree: Prayer is essential to my spiritual well-being. For that one I can confidently mark: Strongly agree.