Posts in Impulses
Creating a Terrible God

As I engage with people over the years, I find that there is little about God which draws out more confusion and emotional milieu than the concept of God as Father.  For most people, this is in part because they start with “Father” as they’ve known it and then apply this frame to God. Of course, like any title which we start with our own definitions of and then expect God to fit the confines of our expectations, the frame bursts with failed containment early and explosively. This failure of God to meet our expectations, unfortunately, rarely leads us to reconsider the expectations we’ve levered against Him. Instead we blame the Monet for not fitting within an ill-measured frame. 

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Landmarks of a Transforming Life

The Self-Help section is one of the largest at Barnes and Noble, and without a doubt high on the profitability scale.  The idea of an accessible and simple formula for lifetime success has now even seeped into the biography section.  There was a time when one read biographies to view from the long end of history how a life had been formed by experience, choice and belief.  Not today.  Today, the majority of “biographies” more accurately stand as mid-life memoirs (some earlier than that) and they don’t intent to map out the story of life so far, but instead to manipulate the events of an unfinished life into the few short platitudes which can create tips for a ravenous public. 

Our new ways of defining human thriving have so denigrated our ability to stand in our own skin and to relate to each other with love and respect that anyone with an objective view would jettison these views in an instant.  But without a meaningful alternative, an attainable counter-narrative to the way to life, the deep and addictive rut of the status-quo will continue to hold us in its sway. Thankfully this counter-narrative is not far off.  There are signs for optimism.

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Every Life Speaks.

It is tempting to enter the drama of what is stake in the world slowly.  To ease you, my dear reader, into it, like a 18-month-old child into the zero-entry end of the pool.  To one vantage point this seems the kind thing to do, until you realize that this easing our way into things is exactly how the frog got himself boiled. The heat of the world turns itself upon on slowly, barely noticeable to our drifting selves, until we are inundated with the heat and friction of lives gone wrong with seemingly little do about it, and the saving ledge of that boiling pot is so far away.

For this reason, we must, as with anything that matters, jump into the deep end of the pool.  We must be caught up in a twister, walk through the wardrobe, fall down the rabbit hole, take the red pill. 

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