Restpiration

THE UNSEEN GOD

We have been conditioned to think of God as this gigantic, serious, duty-bound Spirit who perambulates the heavens and shakes His fist at the slightest event that strays from His premeditated plans. We like to uphold the image of an angry God who strikes down the unholy and visits the iniquities of the unfaithful to the third and fourth generations—all of which, undoubtedly, can be found somewhere in our Bibles if we look hard enough. It is as though we subconsciously believe that God’s face is one that has etched upon it the ever-compounding problems of the universe, all interspersed in a deep, dark frown from the many disappointments and heartbreaks.

Ever lived with someone like that? Maybe a parent, a spouse, or, in an unlikely event, a friend? I don’t have many people who fit such grim descriptions in my life, fortunately. But it doesn’t take much insight to know that such individuals are no fun to be around. All you can ever do is live in high-alert mode—always watching your back and measuring your every step around them. In such relationships, fear takes the place of love, and oppression edges out admiration.

One question I often ask myself is, “What does God really want?” Does He find pleasure when the sons of men approach Him with feet shuddering in fear and heads bowed in fright? Does He desire a relationship with us or something more along the lines of a master-servant transaction? If you’re anything like me, the answer reveals itself to you as you ponder questions of this nature. Why? Because they are questions of the heart and not of the mind.

You see, the mind has tendencies toward contradictions, arguments, and doubts, but the heart is a sacred place of quiet confidence and blessed assurance. It is a good thing to be able to distinguish the workings of the mind from those of the heart. In fact, it’s not only good but essential to living a life of purpose and satisfaction. So, back to our questions…

Born in the small-town setting of Gorham, Maine, on November 26, 1827, Ellen G. White is regarded as one of the founding members of the Seventh-day Adventist movement. She was the L. Ron Hubbard before L. Ron Hubbard (Hubbard holds the record for the most published works by one author, with over 1,000 published titles—an incredible feat, huh?). Ellen managed to author over 5,000 articles and 40 books during her lifetime. I wish I could brag about reading every single one of her works, but I can’t. Instead, what has had the greatest impact on my relationship with my Heavenly Father and my perception of Him is a quote on love in her remarkable book, The Desire of Ages (1898). Paraphrasing wouldn’t do justice to the actual message, so I’ll just copy and paste it here for your reading pleasure and, hopefully, enlightenment.

“The exercise of force is contrary to the principles of God’s government; He desires only the service of love; and love cannot be commanded; it cannot be won by force or authority. Only by love is love awakened.”

Pretty concise, right? To me, it sounds almost poetic, especially with the echoing ending statement: “Only by love is love awakened.” Thank you, Ellen, for your precision and eloquence in communicating this vital spiritual truth.

Surely, God desires service. But what kind of service? Only the service of love. And how does this love come about? By force, coercion, manipulation, and control? Obviously not. The best these can yield are pretense and rebellion. Only by love is love awakened, and I must add that he who desires love must show himself lovely.

I like to reflect on the image of God painted for us in the Sermon on the Mount—how He is a Father (Abba, as affectionately called in the Jewish language) who spends His time clothing the lilies of the field (which are here today and cast into the fire tomorrow) and watching and feeding the birds of the air. There’s also the big one that sounds utterly preposterous to a productive twenty-first-century man—God counts the hairs on our head (Luke 12:7).

It is these traits of God, seen and believed, that make it possible for us to have a personal, intimate relationship with Him. They make Him fun and interesting to be around. I can imagine God tenderly nurturing the lilies of the field with dirt-soiled hands and waving at the birds, beckoning them to feast from the palm of His hand. Lovely, isn’t it?

All said, I’ll end by striking a delicate balance here—and how I’ll do that is by stating what I’m not saying (or implying) by this article. I’m not saying that God has no wrath, nor am I saying that He does not execute judgment. Although all these have their place in establishing justice and sanity in a chaotic, messy world, they cannot advance the cause of genuine love—which is love devoid of fear—in your relationship with God.

I think God wants us to be more like Moses, who understood His ways (who He is) and not just His acts (what He did). When God is perceived as the love He truly is, you’ll have a hard time not loving Him.

WHY LOOK FOR THE LIVING AMONG THE DEAD?

Jesus spent a greater part of His earthly ministry pouring His heart out in love to His disciples and followers. Scripture by scripture, He taught them transcendent truths that were revolutionary in principle and liberating in practice. Chief among these was the truth about His death, burial, resurrection, and ascension. If all men would doubt, you would expect those who had seen Him raise Lazarus from the dead, open blind eyes, feed thousands with meager fish and bread, and cleanse the leprous, to have faith that He was able to do what He said. Quite the contrary—in the face of reality, they simply couldn’t hold on to the truth they knew and the overwhelming evidence of its fulfillment that surrounded them. Let’s just say their humanity crept through the cracks in their perceived immutability—something that happens even to the strong-willed from time to time.

Consequently, after the vicarious death of Jesus, His followers went to look for Him in the tomb where He was laid, as was customary. Unsurprisingly (I can say so with the advantage of hindsight), they met His absence. Instead, an angel appeared to them and posed the question (which is the title of my article), “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

I was intuitively confronted with this same question one early morning as I lay in bed, trying to reminisce about the past few months in an attempt to evaluate how productive and purposeful my life had been. I remembered past failures—how I had fallen short of perceived standards. Scene by scene of missed opportunities, failed relationships, and rejections flooded my mind. After what seemed like forever, my mind gradually slowed and began to quiet. It was in this moment that the question arose, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

I reckon that a question of this nature is rhetorical. Rather than requiring an answer, it seeks to point the individual to a revelation about themselves and about life. So what was the revelation this question sought to unveil? To put it plainly, the revelation was that the past is dead. Depending on your current thinking, this may sound anywhere from preposterous to enlightening, and of course, everything in between. However, to me, this came as a morning dew to blossom the buds of faith, hope, and joy in my life. I realized that I didn’t have to live in the happenings and emotions of the past because the past, in itself, is non-existent. That is not to say that nothing happened two, three years ago, or even yesterday—stuff happened! But all we have today are nothing but perceived outcomes and vestiges of the past, which are not to be misconstrued as reality.

Frederic Bartlett, a British psychologist and the first professor of experimental psychology at Cambridge, was possibly one of the early researchers to examine the nuances of human memory. In his seminal work, Remembering (1932), Bartlett introduced the concept of reconstructive memory. In one of his experiments—the War of Ghosts—participants read a Native American folklore and were asked to recount it repeatedly over a period of time, leading to significant distortions in the actual story. Thus, Bartlett showed that our memories can be reshaped to fit our cultural and personal schemas, adding that memories are merely distortions and inaccurate representations of actual events.

Oh, by the way, Bartlett’s work was in 1932. Let’s consider something more contemporary…

In keeping up with modern technological advancements, several studies have explored the constructive and distributed nature of memory using techniques such as functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI) and positron emission tomography (PET). One such study was reviewed by Islam Hani of the Al Farouk Language School in his paper “Exploring the Constructive and Distributed Nature of Memory for Future Planning” (2023). In summary, his paper posits that the constructive and distributed aspects of memory are not merely distortions but fundamental to our ability to envision and plan for the future.

In case I lost you with all that academic and scientific stuff, the plain fact I want to put across is that the past is not as fixed and reliable as we make it seem. It is illusionary, dead, and non-existent. In contrast, what we really have is NOW—the present moment. It is in this present moment that plans can be made and actions taken. It is real and alive. However, it is often the case—and sadly so—that even as we are surrounded by a plethora of opportunities in the NOW, we are more conscious of missed opportunities in the past, draining our enthusiasm, optimism, and joy of living.

Many are troubled today and haunted by a past they innocently believe to be their reality. They choose to live their lives in the neglected landmines of the past, completely oblivious to the lush green habitation on the other side. Joy, peace, happiness, love, and all other beautiful experiences—all of which are vital and alive—are not in the past; they are right here, in the NOW.

So, may I now do you the favor of asking, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?”

The Gift of Hope (A Transformative Conversation)

When all looks but gone and lost, the greatest gift we can ever give ourselves and others is the gift of hope. Hope not only in the sense that things will get better (for they always do, with no exceptions) but that we will get better at the full contact game of life.

Let’s consider the lilies of the fields. Their whole lives are centered on the H-word (hope, I mean). They neither toil nor spin but they are clothed in an array of beauty akin to royalty. And when winter creases over the fields, in the harshness of the weather, they lie dormant unafraid knowing that they have within them what can last them through the season. With each flake of ice-cold snow that litters the field, they rest assured of this inner force they undeservedly possess. Such is the beauty of their story!

Similar to the lilies are the carefree birds that have the entire expanse of the sky as their playground. It’s a joy to see them do freely what we pay fortunes to see our stylish gymnastics do. Again, we’re wise to consider what the Good Book, the Bible, says about these wonderful creatures of the sky – they neither sow nor reap. Why? Somewhere in their little heads lies the knowledge that someway somehow their sustenance is in safe hands. It’s a no brainer!

Take the highly sophisticated contemporary man and have him sit next to Mr. Bird and pretty Miss Lily and a beautiful conversation ensues. This is how it plays out in my head:

Miss Lily: You look restless. What’s the matter?

Mr. Bird: You took that out of my mouth, Lily. I was about to ask him same. What bothers you on such a pleasant day?

Contemporary man: You stand rooted all day and you have the effrontery to ask what the matter is. Huh, Lily, how would you know what is wrong?

Mr. Bird: Don’t take it out on her. She’s just concerned about you.

Contemporary man: Even you… all you do is to fly aimlessly with no direction and purpose. I, on the other hand, have goals to realize. I have problems to solve and a world to save.

Miss Lily: Tell us about it.

Contemporary man: I would if there were a way you could help but I don’t think you can, sorry.

Mr. Bird: So you’re just going to carry the problems of the world squarely on your broad shoulders?! No wonder there exists not the slightest trace of smile on your face.

Contemporary man: I was once like you, carefree and lazy. But that was a long time ago when I was in the cradle. I have now learned something called responsibility – a word that probably doesn’t exist in your dictionary.

Miss Lily: This thing called responsibility…is it any good?

Contemporary man: (scoffs) That’s what drives me to work every day to put food on the table.

Mr. Bird: I do that too. Only in my case I put the food in the mouth of my little ones.

Contemporary man: Do you have a job you go to every day?

Mr. Bird and Miss Lily: Sure we do!

Contemporary man: And what’s that?

Mr. Bird: My job is to be a creature of the sky.

Miss Lily: And mine is to be a lily of the field.

Contemporary man: That’s too simple. That can’t be a job. There are no deadlines, pressure, stress and expectations.

Mr. Bird: All these to put food in mouths…? Sorry, I meant food on the table?

Contemporary man: Yes. And you also feel good and look good to others. You get some good accolades and respect.

Miss Lily: I get that some times. It’s not uncommon for someone to walk by and pass the comment, “such a beautiful Lily”.

Mr. Bird: Hey, come to think of it, I usually get admiring glances as I spread my wings and glide gracefully with the air beneath my wings.

Contemporary man: No fair. I work hard for my accolades and admiration. How come you get it just by sitting in the fields all day and flying around to God knows where.

Miss Lily: Perhaps it’s not as hard as you try to make it seem. I don’t have to stress and strain to be anything other than what I already am. It’s a lot closer to home than you think.

Contemporary man: Home? What do you mean by home?

Mr. Bird: Home is who you are at the core. It is your innate abilities and inclinations. It is both the path and destination of life.

Contemporary man: I feel a little embarrassed receiving lessons of life from you. I’m supposed to be the head of the food chain controlling you at will.

Mr. Bird: Being the head is not always about control. The eyes, ears and brain are where the head is. Being the head affords you the opportunity to experience and understand life in all its fullness.

Contemporary man: It’s a lot harder than you think. In my world, you’re only as good as how much you control. It’s a messy survival of the fittest stage with power as the winning currency. It scares me to think about what will become of me if I take your advice.

Miss Lily: I understand that’s the norm in your world, but that’s miles apart from what’s natural. Sometimes I feel the Creator’s purpose for putting me in the fields and Bird in the sky is to give you a feel for what is natural.

Mr. Bird: We have watched in amazement how you have over the past decades transformed existence through cutting edge technological advancement. You now meander your way through the sea like skilled dolphins and even soar to heights that only eagles dream of. But all these have come at a cost where the environment is being polluted at an escalating rate.

Miss Lily: Even worse, you’re polluted from within by all kinds depression and emotional uproars. Suicidal rate is likewise escalating.

Contemporary man: But what choice do I have in all this? I can’t resign from life and all that comes with it.

Mr. Bird: We aren’t asking you to do that. We just want to be mirrors of nature and simplicity to you. In our world, there’s grace and flow and our winning currency is hope. Can you have a little of that in yours?

Contemporary man: I guess

TO ILLUMINATE UNTIL WE’RE NO MORE

Look at the birds in the large expanse of the sky. They neither worry about their existence nor frown on their responsibilities. Without giving it much thought, they understand the simplicity of their assignment. They reckon they are creatures of the sky and are meant to fly and soar even. They aren’t worried about how long they have to live. One year, one month, a few hours…makes no difference. For theirs is to soar till they are no more.

As creatures of the earth, the story of humans is akin to the fate of birds. Only that we overthink and overanalyze our existence to the point of complicating the obvious. Our simple assignment is put succinctly by Jesus, “ye are the light of the world.” To the best of my knowledge, this means that we’re here to illuminate (for that’s what light does). That said, it means we can expect some magnitude of darkness in the world (for without darkness light cannot be perceived as light). This darkness that we talk about can be the doom and gloom around us, the hopelessness that weighs heavy on souls, and the utter confusion of juggling everyday responsibilities. We can count on having these experiences on this earth.

But light comes in to illuminate the dark places to reveal the beauty that lies underneath the cloak of darkness. It comes in to lighten the emotional burdens we so easily succumb to, and releases our souls to feel alive again. It dissipates all bitterness, strife, and self-pity. Just as the birds were designed to soar till they are no more, even so, are we fashioned to illuminate till we are no more.

The Wise One

As a writer, I can say that writing is indeed therapeutic. I choose to consider it this way:
I’m with a pen and paper now. That’s easy to imagine. Then I have in me the wisest person there is who knows me so well than I can ever know myself. Writing actually puts me in a state where I cannot but listen to the wise one. How else would I be able to write anything meaningful? Thus I observe that I listen to write and engaging in writing opens me up to listening. It is in writing that I savor the sense of clarity that has always been there right underneath the myriad of confusion and perplexity. This wise one, with time, I have come to realize isn’t another but me. It is the me that is more real than any other that I can experience. It is the way, truth and life. The wise one is the essence of all things unattached to anything we conveniently choose to identify with down here.

What’s more, the wise one isn’t personal. I’m not more or less of it than anyone else. I’m not any wiser because I listen to the wise one neither am I foolish for not listening. The wise one isn’t a criteria for comparison or a standard to live up to. The wise one is our inextricable oneness with all. The land, the sea, the air, the stars, the manifold life forms…everything. So when I listen to the wise one I actually listen not just to myself but to all of life. I cannot be short sighted or what most call “selfish” for I come to a place beyond self and form to the formless essence of all things. I am open to receive life’s lessons no matter the medium through which they come. It could be through the bird which soars care free in the clear expanse of the sky or the fish that wiggles its way through crevices to its food. That same intelligence with which they feel, move and act is not foreign to me, I too have that. In fact, I’m it.