Focus

I'm aging. You're aging. I'm now wearing progressive lens in my eyeglasses to help me keep things in focus. I imagine that you'll have to do that too someday if you're not already doing so.

Over time we lose focus spiritually too. It's as natural as aging. Losing focus isn't just a nuisance; it can be dangerous--especially for those who don't realize they're not seeing clearing, or who refuse to acknowledge it.

Loss of focus isn't just a matter of seeing or perceiving. We can lose focus when we're spread thin and have lost a sense of our center--who we are, what we're all about.

That kind of loss of focus is dangerous too. You wind up busy, anxious, frustrated. It's not good for your mind, your body, or your soul.

Intention: Today, I'll name what's most important to me. I'll keep that front and center . . . kind of like taping a reminder card on the wall of my mind. I realize I'll not stay focused all day, but at least I have a center to return to when I lose it.

Distraction

Next time you’re stopped at a stoplight, look around. Drivers are texting, fiddling with the radio, talking to someone beside them or someone at the other end of their cell phone. The man in the car beside you is shaving. The woman behind you is putting on makeup. It’s little wonder we live through our morning commute. Our distractedness has become an epidemic. How distracted are you? How hard is it for you to keep focused on the task you're supposed to be doing, the person before you? Or are you reaching to check your phone for texts, following your Facebook feed, or letting your mind flit to and fro between the many different things you have to do, the worries that crowd into your brain, or your dreams for an escape from the boredom that plagues you?

Distraction isn't a modern problem, but the level of our distractedness is.

The first step out of the problem is simply recognizing it and its effect on your life.

Intention: Today, I'll simply notice my distraction and the things that lure me away from what is real, what is right in front of me. And I won't judge myself for being distracted. Noticing it is enough for now. Changing it will come later.

Presence

People come to see me often carrying heavy burdens, frightening breeches in their self-confidence, debilitating brokenness. Early on, I thought my job was to fix them . . . of course, always with God's help. As I've aged, I've come to realize that while they want relief, I can't fix them. What's more, they don't want me to fix them. They want the dignity of fixing themselves . . . with God's help. What they need from me is a listening ear, a prayerful, sensitive heart, a mind alert to what's going on that they can't see. What they need is my blessing for the journey that must walk.

When it comes to that point in our relationship when the need for blessing opens up before us, I often open the Scriptures to the prophet Isaiah and read, "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you," says GOD. "When you walk through the fire, the flame shall not consume you. You are precious to me, and honored, and I love you. Do not be afraid for I am with you" (43.2-5).

There is power in presence. Be a presence that blesses others today. Receive the blessing of another's presence today.

Intention: Today, I will embrace the presence of the One who loves me and walks with me. And when I meet someone in crisis or pain, I'll bless them with my presence and will avoid trying to fix them.

Laughter

The stuff that makes us so serious often isn't so serious to God. "Why do the nations conspire and the peoples plot in vain?" asks the psalmist. "The One who sits in the heavens laughs" (Psalm 2.1 and 4). That doesn't mean God doesn't care about what scares us, or worries us, or troubles us. It means that God sees things differently than we do. God has a longer and larger view.

That fact may bother us; we'd like God to care more about what worries and wounds us and our world. But who's to say God doesn't? Who can say for sure that God isn't caring in the best way God can care? Who can really say that God isn't working behind the scenes in ways that are better than the ways we'd devise?

You've been around those who are serious and concerned (and perhaps that makes them get involved in fighting what's wrong in the world). But while their serious concerns makes them energetic in righting wrongs, they're frankly a drag to be around. Their eyes don't shine, their words are hard, their touch isn't gentle.

God's levity in the midst of a world in pain might seem to us to be inappropriate. But isn't it possible that playfulness, humor, and lightness might have their own power in healing our hurts and righting what's wrong?

If we can let go our obsession with handwringing, maybe we'd be be able to better hear God's call and follow God's path as we participate in the Lord's mysterious, cosmic dance of life that's transforming our world.

Intention: Today, I'll let go of my grievances and grumbling. I'll smile a little more often. And I'll try to trust there's a mighty Hand at work behind what makes me feel powerless and angry. And I'll listen for the distant sounds of God's laughter.

Simplicity

When I become quiet, still, seeking the simplicity of face to face, heart to heart encounter with God, my mind leaps into the void. It feels like a cage full of monkey's on crack. I told this recently to a group of university students who I've been teaching to pray contemplatively, and one of them blurted out, "And they're all throwing poo." It often feels just like that. My thoughts crowding in, pushing, chattering, hollering, and yes, throwing poo.

So, when I enter the silence, seeking God, I do what Christians throughout the ages have done when facing the same inner chaos. I simply speak the Name of Jesus over and over again in my heart. I join the Name to my breathing, which, in the biblical tradition, is linked to the Spirit. This accords with the teaching of Jesus that we are to keep our words simple and not go babbling like those who think that by their many words they'll be heard by God (Matthew 6.7).

This repitition is no dull ritual. The Name of Jesus is a prayer itself. And through the recitation of the Name, I draw these maverick thoughts down into my heart, where Christ himself awaits me (Ephesians 3.17-19).

The beauty is this . . . I can do this anywhere. In solitude before dawn, when the house is quiet. As I'm showering and shaving. While eating, driving, typing this little reflection, even leading a meeting or while in a conversation. The Name, joined to my breath, begins to become a habitual prayer, a way of keeping my core alive to Christ, and a way to live out St Paul's instruction: "Pray without ceasing" (1 Thessalonians 5.17).

Intention: Today, I'll put the Name of Jesus upon the inner lips of my heart. I'll join my mind with my heart around the Name, and one by one I'll invite my maverick thoughts to rest before their Lord and mine. It won't happen all at once, but this is a start of a whole new way of being.