Be happy

 

I was driving down a road near my house, a road I’ve driven down a thousand times, in my 13-year-old car, listening to some acoustic jazz from the 1990s, when I suddenly realized I was happy.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think of myself as being typically unhappy. Truthfully, I don’t believe I think of my emotional state much at all.

In that moment, nothing had really changed about my life. I’m like most people, I guess. I have a mortgage, a loan I’m paying on, a car payment (not on my 13-year-old car, however), dealing with long-term health issues in my family that require regular medical bills – pretty ordinary stuff. I haven’t recently received any financial windfall, my monthly bills are the usual ones, nobody had recently told me I was good-looking or smart or talented.

I was just driving down the road, when it hit me: I’m happy.

Have you ever had those moments? You’re listening to a song or reading a book or watching a movie or looking at a sunset or playing with the kids (or grandkids) or eating a really good meal and suddenly, out of seemingly nowhere, you’re just hit with this sense of happiness? Or maybe what C.S. Lewis would call being “surprised by joy?”

In his book, Surprised by Joy, Lewis talks about his life’s “stabs of joy,” those fleeting moments that hint at something greater, that strikes unexpectedly, of something good that can’t be fully explained in words. These are moments you can’t create for yourself; even if you listen to that same piece of music again, or watch that same movie or visit the same garden or have a conversation with the same person, you’re not going to get that same inexplicable reaction, that surprise at suddenly feeling something moving that catches you completely unaware.

Now, for those of you who have read Lewis, you know in some writings he seems to differentiate between “joy” and “happiness,’’ treating “happy” as if it’s lesser than “joy.” And in the context in which he’s writing, I agree. But he also, in A Severe Mercy, says, “It is a Christian duty, as you know, for everyone to be as happy as he can.”

In my reading of the Bible (take that for what it’s worth), I find Scripture uses words like joy, happiness, contentment, delight, and satisfaction as, essentially, synonyms for the same type experience. For my purpose, I’m using “happy” in much the same way Lewis, I believe, uses “joy.”

There is a cartoon I have seen several times, of two robed men – one the master, the other the student – sitting cross-legged on some mountain. The master or guru or teacher has this blissful smile on his face while the protégé says, “The hokey-pokey? That’s what it’s all about?”

Yes. You put your whole self in, and sometimes you shake it all about. That’s life, isn’t it?

As a Christian, I’m called to be happy – or joyful. 1 Peter 1:8 says we are to be “filled with an inexpressible and glorious joy.”

Unfortunately, I don’t seem to have that feeling every day. Paul writes to the Galatians and asks, ‘’What has happened to the satisfaction you felt…?” or in another translation, “Where, then, is your blessing …?” It is as if he is saying, “What happened to your joy?” If the Gospel – the Good News – doesn’t make a person happy, then what will? In Philippians 2:2 he says, “Make my joy complete …”

Joy is listed as a Fruit of the Spirit: “love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.” (Galatians 5:22-23). Too often I find myself forgetting everything past “love.” We all love “love,” don’t we? But it seems to me that love is not a stand-alone; that love should be – maybe has to be - accompanied by joy, peace, forbearance (patience), kindness, goodness … The word “fruit” is singular, as if all these traits are part of the same, singular thing.

I wonder if we can fully, truly experience any of those characteristics the way God intended us to if we don’t experience them all. Can you have joy without love? Love without joy?

The Apostle John is rightfully credited for writing so much about love. Yet in the very beginning of the letter we call 1 John, it’s not love he is longing for, but writes, “We write this to make our joy complete.” And he ends 2 John with “I hope to visit you and talk with you face to face, so that our joy may be complete.”

We Christians sometimes seem to have a hard time with happiness. I think of the verse in a hymn we sang growing up which says, “Worldly pleasures all forsaken; Take me, Jesus, take me now.” (I Surrender All).

We can make happiness trivial, like we do so many things. But when Thomas Jefferson wrote in the Declaration of Independence “that all men are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights” that include “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness,’’ I don’t think he was talking about buying a new set of golf clubs or getting a really good burger at a local pub. To Jefferson, this “pursuit of happiness” was something more profound than something transient or just based on experiences.

The key is where we derive our happiness. If it is, indeed, in things, we soon learn that things break or wear out and we require new things. If it’s in seeking experiences, we soon learn we need another experience, a better one, one that is more intense. As Pope Francis said, “Seeking happiness in material things is a sure way of being unhappy.”

That is where I like what Lewis wrote, describing joy (my “happy’’) as “those fleeting moments that hint at something greater, that strikes unexpectedly, of something good that can’t be fully explained in words. These are moments you can’t create for yourself …”

John Piper once said, “Happiness is not an object to be desired. It is the experience of the object. … Idolatry is not in wanting happiness, supremely. Idolatry is finding supreme happiness in anything other than God.”

That, I think, brings me back to my realization of being “happy.” I was not happy because I was driving a road, because I have driven that road thousands of times without that feeling; or from driving a car I have driven many miles in, or listening to a piece of music I have played endlessly.

I don’t know why it suddenly hit me that I was happy. I don’t know where the thought came from, or why that particular moment. I just know it hit me, and I was … well, happy.

And maybe the best explanation is back to Lewis, who wrote, “If we find ourselves with a desire that nothing in this world can satisfy, the most probably explanation is that we were made for another world.”

Or, to fit my moment, if I find myself with a sudden feeling that nothing I was doing could create or recreate of itself, then maybe I was getting a glimpse of another world, of what God has promised for us, down the road.

I’m thankful when I get moments – glimpses – of that happiness where I am.

I don’t know where I found this quote, but I like it:

“Chasing happiness is like chasing the rainbow. The rainbow always fades before you find it because it’s only a by-product of the sun. If you want to find a rainbow, perhaps you should be chasing the sun instead.

“But if we chase the sun, we’ll find rainbows. It’s the same with happiness. If we chase happiness, we won’t find it. But if we chase the Son, he’ll fulfill us, and we just might find happiness along the way.”

Do you know me? Really?

 

My resume continues to grow.

It’s pretty impressive, if I say so myself. I have appeared in a number of Hollywood movies, including one of the most successful horror movie franchises of all time, “Saw.” Then there was “The Fifth Element,” a sci-fi film starring Bruce Willis, and another sci-fi series “Predator,” plus a few movies I won’t mention.

And then there was my stint playing for the Boston Celtics in the 1980s.

Of course, if you know me, you know that none of what I just wrote is true. But I continue to be mistaken for a movie actor – I won’t say “star” because I’m never confused with the handsome leading men – wherever I go. College students, valet drivers, a jewelry store security guard in the Grand Caymans, the lady who worked the cheese counter at the Western supermarket … it has happened so often in my life that my wife can see me talking to strangers in random places when we travel and will have a pretty good idea of what is going on.

We were in Antigua one time when a guy came up to us on our way to dinner and said, “I just want you to know I know who you are, and I really enjoy your work.” I told him I wasn’t whoever he thought I was, but he said, “No, I get you don’t want people to know you’re here and I won’t say anything. But I just want you to know I know, and I really enjoy your movies.”

Another time, in the Bluebird Café in Nashville, a guy came up and said, “You’re Brion James, aren’t you?” Brion James is the actor who played in “The Fifth Element” that indeed, I do look like (at least in that movie). I had to tell this “fan” that James died about 15 years ago.

A few days ago, my wife and I were flying to Baltimore and the stewardess said, “Are you Larry Bird? You look just like Larry Bird.” I wanted to say, “Yes, Larry Bird always flies in the middle seat of row 34 on American Airlines,’’ but instead I laughed and said, “Thanks. You just named one of the ugliest white guys in the NBA.” The lady in the seat next to me (my wife was on a different row) busted out laughing. As the flight was ending, the stewardess came back by and gave me a fist bump, saying, “Bye, Larry.”

And in the Atlanta airport, I was standing outside the women’s restroom waiting for my wife and these two workers wheeled their trash can over to me and said, “You’re an actor, aren’t you?” His English wasn’t very good, and he made like he was shooting a machine gun. His partner insisted on taking a picture with me, convinced I was in “Predator.”

Usually, when someone says, “You look just like an actor,” I say, “Brad Pitt, right?” And they always say, “No,” to which I act hurt and say, “Just once I’d like someone to say I look like Brad Pitt.” This happened in particular with this nice lady in the Western Supermarket I used to go to regularly, and from then on, every time I’d come in she’d call out, “Hey, Brad Pitt!” One time, walking in with my youngest son, she added, “And here’s Brad Pitt junior!”

Now, other people had to wonder what she was thinking. She acted like she really knew me, but they know good and well I wasn’t Brad Pitt. Often this lady and would stand and talk for a few minutes – we did get to be sort-of friends - but she always called me “Brad Pitt.”

Anyone listening would have reason to wonder if this lady really knew me.

Because when you know someone, you know things about them that are true. The better you get to know them, the more you learn about them, the more you can talk about them and describe them to someone else.

If I told you my wife, who I love more than anyone else in the world, was a 5-foot-10 blonde who was really gifted in technology, with multiple degrees from MIT, and that we met while she was working for NASA in Huntsville helping design rockets, you’d be rightfully impressed.

But if you met her, you’d see she’s 5-foot-4 with dark hair, and while she’s one of the smartest people I know, she doesn’t have multiple degrees and never attended MIT, nor did she ever work for NASA (we actually met at a mall).

If you got to know her, you’d still be impressed. I continue to be impressed by her.

But if you heard that first description of her then met her, you’d think to yourself, “Does he even know this person he’s calling his wife?” Based on my inability to describe her, you’d have every reason to wonder if I knew her at all, and every right to seriously question my profession of love for her.

Just like if you heard people talking about all the movies I was in, or of my playing for the Boston Celtics, you’d assume (correctly) that they didn’t really know me, that I was nothing like the person they were describing.

Sometimes it’s like that with God.

You hear people talking about God, about what He wants or does or expects and how He would want us to act in a given situation, and think, “How well does that person really know God?”

Knowing God should lead us to a deeper knowledge of Him, just like having known the woman who is my wife for over 40 years has given me a greater knowledge of her. I love her, and I am constantly learning more about her, and the more I know the deeper my love for her becomes. That’s how it should be with God; knowing Him means developing a relationship with Him, wanting to know all I can about Him. And if someone asks me about God, I want to be able to demonstrate that I know Him.

Paul says this in his letter to the Colossians, praying that the Christians in that church “may be filled with the knowledge of His will in all spiritual wisdom and understanding, so as to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him.”

We cannot be faithful followers of God if we don’t know him. Oh, we can say we are followers, that we’re Christians, but it’s kind of like my saying I was in all those horror and sci-fi movies: I may look like I was in the movie, and I might can fool you into believing it for a while, but it doesn’t take long to find out the truth.

Pastor Dr. Bruce Milne said, “Every Christian is a theologian.” What he means, I believe, is that theology is the science of God, or theology is the knowledge of God which emerges from an acquaintance with God, brought about by the work of the Holy Spirit and instructed by the pages of Holy Scripture. So, it is impossible to be a believer—to be a Christian—without being someone who has a knowledge of God and who recognizes that that knowledge of God is something which is to be deepening all the time.

Jesus taught that “Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent” (John 17:3).

The key to truly knowing God is found in what God has revealed about Himself in the Bible. He wants to be known. It says in Acts (17:27), “God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us.”

It’s our responsibility to read God’s word, and not just rely on second-hand accounts or Sunday sermons. Romans 10:17 says faith comes from hearing. We can’t properly respond to God unless we know what God’s expectation is. Jesus says if you hold to my teaching, then you really are my disciples. But you have to know what Jesus taught.

J.I. Packer, in his classic book, Knowing God, said “We are cruel to ourselves if we try to live in this world without knowing about the God whose world it is and who runs it. The world becomes a strange, mad, painful place, and life in it a disappointing and unpleasant business, for those who do not know about God. Disregard the study of God, and you sentence yourself to stumble and blunder through life blindfolded, as it were, with no sense of direction and no understanding of what surrounds you. This way you can waste your life and lose your soul.”

Another great preacher, John Piper, said it this way: “Jesus said in the Gospel of John 18:37, ‘For this purpose … I have come into the world — to bear witness to the truth.’ Then in John 14:6 he said, ‘I am … the truth …. No one comes to [God] except through me.’ Then in John 8:19 he said, ‘If you knew me, you would know [God].’ You’d know who he is. Why? Because he said in John 10:30, ‘I and the Father are one.’”

You can say anything you want about God, and maybe even believe that what you think is true - just like those poor mistaken people who are convinced I was in any number of movies, or I played in the NBA (I wish!).

There was a time when I read all the Carlos Castaneda books, which were big way back in the 1960s and ‘70s. These were not Christian books or even about God. But Castaneda wrote something I have never forgotten: “Knowledge is power? No! Power rests on the kind of knowledge one holds. What is the sense of knowing things that are useless?”

If we want to know Jesus’ teaching with a goal of becoming disciples then we have to read. There is an element of intellectual pursuit to understand who Jesus is.

Knowing God is the most important pursuit of our lives.

Loving yourself

 Years ago, in my previous life as a sportswriter, I was listening to a university president talk about a coach that he’d decided not to fire despite the coach being caught in an extra-marital affair with a subordinate employee in the athletic office.

This was years ago, before the “Me Too” movement and the cancel culture. These days there wouldn’t be much hesitation in firing that coach, and justifiably so.

But back in those days, sometimes being successful – winning games – covered a multitude of sins.

The president’s resume listed him as being a Presbyterian minister. At one point, in a scrum with reporters, he said his reason for retaining this coach was, “I believe men are basically good.”

I said, “As a Presbyterian, I would think you’re a Calvinist. What about the total depravity of man?”

He ignored my question, perhaps rightfully so. This wasn’t the place for a theological discussion. But a couple of the reporters who were there with me later told me they thought it was a great comeback.

The “total depravity of man” is a solid theological concept, but I wonder if it’s not often misunderstood.

The idea, I think, is an acknowledgement that the Bible teaches that as a result of the fall of man (Genesis 3:6, the whole eating of the fruit thing) every part of man has been corrupted by sin, often referred to as our “sin nature.” This corrupts every area of our being, rendering living a sinless life impossible. Isaiah 64:6 says, in part, “…all our righteous acts are like filthy rags” before a holy God.

Many years ago, there was a particular NFL quarterback who fell victim to multiple gambling issues, which plagued him for years. Eventually he wound up doing jail time. At some point, he was told he was medically diagnosed as having a gambling addiction, that it was a sickness. I remember an interview he did where, nearly in tears, he said something like, “Thank God! I’m sick. I have an addiction. All these years I thought I was just a screw-up!”

The bad news is, he is a screw-up. We all are. We all have an addiction – to ourselves. And it can be overcome, by God’s Grace. But we can’t blame it on being “sick;” it’s our sin nature.

Mother Teresa was a respected Catholic nun who dedicated most of her life to working with the “undesirables” of India, the poorest of the poor. She didn’t do that because they were the worst of the worst, lost more than anyone else. Mother Teresa once said she went to the poor because that was her calling, but that she saw the same loneliness, the same poverty, the same desperation in the rich. “The world is suffering much,’’ she said, “because of this terrible disease- not of leprosy, not of tuberculosis, not even of hunger – but of that feeling of wanting to be wanted, to be loved, to be somebody to somebody.”

Or, as Jesus said, “You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked.” (Revelation 3:17)

I fully agree with fallen man having a sin nature. But I wonder if we forget we were not created to be evil, sinful people. Humans were created to be good. That was God’s original intent for our lives.

We need to remember that God created mankind in His Own Image. Adam and Eve were more like God than anything else He created. I believe that in the original plan, humans would live forever, just as God exists forever. He had a purpose for humans, and all the people that came after the originals were created for a purpose, too.

That’s important, because Jesus said the second greatest commandment is, “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Well, if you don’t see yourself as lovable – if you don’t see yourself the way God created you to be - it becomes incredibly difficult to love your neighbor.

I wonder if we only love others to the extent that we love ourselves. I read one commentator who said Jesus’ second greatest command might be better understood by adding “You will” to it: “You will love your neighbor as yourself.” The feelings you have toward yourself will inevitably be projected upon others.

Now, be careful here. You do not love yourself by telling yourself how great you are, by considering yourself better than other people. That is not what humans were created to do any more than they were created to sin. Pride is a sin.

Humans were created to be in a relationship with God, but ultimately God wants us to be like Jesus. And Paul tells us in Philippians that we should have the same mindset as Jesus “who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing, by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to death— even death on a cross.” (Philippians 2:5-8).

If that’s my example, how can I think highly of myself? It’s easy, as a man in particular, to think being a man gives me certain rights. The society we live in says it’s all about `me,’ look at `me,’ don’t disrespect `me.’ Instead, Jesus, though he was equal with God (think of what that means, to be equal with God!), did not see that equality as something to be grasped (held on to for dear life), but willingly gave it up to become a man (actually, a helpless baby) and took on the form of a servant (the most powerful force in the universe took the abuse of the beings he created in order to save them).

So how do we know if we love ourselves? We’ll live lives that are characterized by being happy and thankful, by seeking to serve other people; lives that are not consumed with “self,” seeking what we believe will make us happy.

We live lives of joy, of gratitude, rather than being stressed or insecure or angry or in denial. We learn that we are loved by God, created for His good pleasure. We are to be what most people are not: happy, and full of life. Jesus made it possible for us to have a “full measure of (His) joy” (John 17:13). We embrace that.

If we’re not filled with joy, then chances are we’re sapping it from those around us.

The tough part of the Christian life is we’re two people. The Apostle Paul speaks of the “old self” in Romans (6:6) and of the “new creation” in 2 Corinthians (5:17). In a sense, we are no longer “homo sapiens” but have become “homo fideus” – Latin for “men of good faith.”

Through Christ we are redeemed, washed, born again, made pure and holy. This is who we are. Through faith we are made holy. We choose to deliberately focus on the new creature rather than the old. And we choose to see the good in people, the image of God, because we have come to understand it in ourselves.

If I can learn to see myself as God sees me, with lovingkindness, then I will see everyone else the same way.

Let go and let dog

A blind man is standing on the corner with his dog. The dog hikes his leg and pees on the blind man’s leg. The blind man reaches into his pocket, pulls out a dog treat, and holds it out for the dog.

Another man, watching all this, says, “Wow. That dog just peed on your leg, and you’re petting him and giving him a treat. You must really love that dog!”

To which the blind man replied, “Actually, I’m just making sure which end is his head so I can kick him in the butt!’’

There’s another story of the blind man who walks into the department store with his seeing eye dog. He pulls the lease tight, then starts spinning the dog around and around in circles. A clerk in the store sees this and runs over to the blind man and says, “Can I help you with something?”

“No,’’ says the blind man. “I’m just looking around.”

An Irishman is out walking his wife’s poodle. He buddy comes up and says, “You need to get down to the pub, they’re giving away free pints of Guinness!” The man hurries down to the pub with the poodle, but the doorman says, “We don’t allow dogs in here.”

The man, thinking quickly, says, “I’m blind, and this is my seeing eye dog.”

The doorman says, “No. Seeing eye dogs are German Shepards or Golden Retrievers, big dogs.”

The man says, “Oh! What did they give me?”

***

You’ve heard the old joke about the dyslexic atheist who didn’t believe in dog?

I saw a bumper sticker on a car that said, “Let go and let God.” It occurred to me that, like a lot of similar bumper stickers, that sounds nice. I get what they’re saying. But “letting God” can be really difficult, particularly for people who have been raised to be self-sufficient and that we should never have to depend on anybody for anything.

And that brought me to a blind man with a seeing eye dog. I apologize for the jokes, but here is where I wanted to go:

What the blind man with a seeing eye dog is really doing is “letting go and letting dog.”

(See what I did there?)

I have no idea how hard it must be for a blind person to get a dog and learn to absolutely put their trust in an animal. I have watched folks working with blind people, training them on how to handle and trust their seeing eye dog, walking around downtown, across busy intersections and into restaurants and stores. I am amazed at how smart these dogs are. And I’m sure blind people who are getting seeing eye dogs are amazed as well.

But knowing how smart and well-trained these dogs are and actually putting your complete trust – your very life – in one of them takes a level of trust that is hard for me to imagine.

I have read that the hardest part of learning to trust a seeing eye dog is letting go of control and trusting the dog’s instincts. Seeing eye dogs are highly trained to work as a team, but they are also independent animals with their own sense of safety. Still, you have to be willing to follow the dog’s lead, no matter what you may hear or feel.

This means that even when you’ve learned the rules and commands, you must still be willing to let the dog take over. You can’t take away or second-guess the dog’s initiative. If the dog decides to stop or suddenly change direction, you have to trust that the dog knows what is best, that it’s protecting you. In particular, in a strange environment, the dog’s gut feeling about where to go and how to get there should certainly be more reliable than that of a blind person.

It occurs to me that learning to trust that seeing eye dog is, in some ways, like learning to “let go and let God.”

James 2:19 says, “You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that—and shudder.” That verse has always given me pause. The suggestion is that believing there is a God is not enough. Satan himself knows there is a God.

The trick is to believe and then put your faith – trust your very life – in God. James also says, “Faith without works is dead.” I believe what James is saying is that it’s not enough just to believe there is a God; you have to put that belief into action in the real world, in the way you live your everyday life.

Sometimes we Christians can feel really pleased with ourselves because we believe in God. But do we believe enough to step out there – to go back to my blind man/seeing eye dog idea – when it sounds like we might be stepping in front of a bus? When you don’t know if that step is a four-inch curb or a 10-foot cliff? When you can feel the crowd of people around you going in one direction and your dog is taking you in another?

Faith tells us who we really are. Not just who we have faith in, but how we live out that faith. Sometimes our “rational” mind will tell us one thing, sorting through all the “facts,” the good and bad and possible outcomes of a given action, weighing this decision against that one, trying to figure out the right thing to do by deductive reasoning.

To use another “seeing” analogy, when I drive my car at night, I use my headlights. It’s still dark all around me. I can’t always see what’s on either side of the car or what might be behind me. Usually, I can’t really even see any further ahead than what my headlights expose. But there is enough illumination ahead for me to confidently go down the road I’m on – and usually at a high rate of speed.

The Apostle Paul says in his second letter to Timothy (2 Timothy 1:12), “I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him until that day.”

Sometimes I think faith can only happen in complete humility. Sometimes if feels like I have to be willing to not ask questions and not expect answers, only have a willingness to go forward.

Jesus said, quoted in John 14:1, “Do not let your hearts be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me.”

Honestly, it takes time. At least for me it does. It has taken probably more time than it should have, more time than God would have liked, to get to the point where I can really “let go and let God.”

It feels like I have to make the decision almost daily to believe and not expect some big experience that justifies such faith, but to take the small daily steps of faith, the routine of everyday life, that lead to really “letting go and letting God.”

There is an old hymn we used to sing in the church I grew up in, “Tis So Sweet To Trust in Jesus.” The chorus goes:

Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him,

How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er,

Jesus, Jesus, Precious Jesus!

O for grace to trust Him more.

Oh, for grace to trust Him more. Oh, to be able to fully and completely “let go and let God.”

When the blind man learns to trust his dog completely, how freeing that must be.