Breaking It Up in Chunks –
I notice that I think of history in “chunks.” I divided the history of the United States into three Republics, each approximately 80 years in length. And now I am considering my own life. It has divided itself into four parts – quarters.
In 1975, my son was born, and suddenly, everything was different. Sheri and/or I had to have jobs. Our friends were families with young children. My faith moved from my childhood Methodist Christianity to some of the New Age expressions. And in a decade, I would finally answer a calling, a vocation, as a retail theologian.
All of that changed in 2000. Not only was a new century upon us, but my very calling was in question. It was MY question. I had just suffered a devastating church fight and realized that where I was serving could not continue to afford me as a full-time pastor. Also, my father’s cancer entered terminal mode. So we took Family Health Leave, and we could help Mom and Dad, while I spent a lot of time masticating my life and future. I was 50, and this was my Mid-Life Crisis. I began to receive the AARP magazine – and Paul McCarthy was the cover story!
That period ended after Dad died, and we were appointed to a church in a town that was strangely similar to my hometown. This was not only the center point of my life, it was also the center point of my career – with 15 years before and 15 years after.
Now I am 76, which I can round down to 75, which makes a nice, regular division. I have been retired for 10 years. And over this decade, I have lost any residual desire to serve God or the congregation. I spent around 37 years in school, preaching at a student church, then being a full-time preacher in the United Methodist system. So, half my life to this point.
Now, this scheme of the third quarter assumes I will be around until 2050 – a full century. I am not sure I have that number on my punch-card, and I am satisfied that death will be alright. As I say to my more traditional Christian friends, “I have my reservations – but I am not ready to have my ticket punched.”
But something else has shifted as I enter my Three-Quarter-Life Crisis. I am no longer thrilled by staying in the Christian mythological structure. It is a good structure. The religion is centered on eating together – literally sharing life. And every week, in one way or another, thanks to the crucifixion of Jesus, we touch on the reality of death, and a hope that is beyond all other hopes.
As an example of the other way – which is much more common in the general population, I officiated a funeral for a six or seven-year-old child. The boy was riding his four-wheeler and a car came up over the hill and knocked him into the ditch. Flight for life was called and great care was administered. But he died.
His mother was inconsolable. She would go to the boy’s grave lie on it, and cry. But Lent and the full Easter story arrived, and she joined a bible study group. These ladies walked slowly and carefully through the full Holy Week saga. And she told me that her eyes were opened. Before that, Holy Week was just Hosanna on Palm Sunday followed by Hallelujah on Easter Morning. She had never encountered how the great hope of the Palm Sunday procession went terribly wrong, and Jesus suffered and died. Only then could there be a Resurrection.
However, no matter how deeply mystical the truth under the story is, most people get stuck on its service story. They want to argue about “what” someone believes, rather than meditate on what that might mean in a real life. And I have been there, done that, and no longer have the patience or the income source that binds me to the particulars of the myth. Stories of Indian and Native American peoples seem to delve deeper. Or, is it just that I have trod the path so often that it is now hard-packed? The sower’s seeds just bounce, and birds come and consume them.
Now, all this is a preamble of something I want to mull over. My friend of over 50 years has reported a message he received from outside or beyond the world of three directions, four walls, and five senses. He was told, by a trusted mystical source, that “the only reality is Free Will.”
Now, I tend to believe Free Will on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and Frozen Chosen Predestination on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. On Sunday, I wallow in unbridled solipsism.
Actually, Free-Will-ism is my own preferred perspective, because we, as decisive beings, choose our futures every instant of every day. God – in this process theology – is offering use the best possible choice as we move into the next Now. If we are truly free-willed, then we are, to some extent, shaping our future. Now this shaping is constrained by the equal free will of 8 billion other decisive beings on the planet (plus all the other animals and plants around us). This great interference from the consequential world certainly seems to thwart our best-laid plans.
And this implies that it is all set. Our lives are etched on a DVD – and we only think we made the choices. But the story, as it must play itself out, requires every decision. If God knows the future, it is because God has the DVD in hand. And the story will never be different right up to the final credits.
The implications of a set play of the universe certainly plays hob with our tendency to blame people for hurting us. It is all set, then the criminal (or politician) is not responsible. No one is responsible. So get a helmet and get over it!!
But back to Free Will being the most important part of reality. Let’s set aside the personal responsibility implied in this and look at the creation of the whole of the universe. The choice – on the part of That Which Precedes Everything Else is a freely given boon to all 8 billion of us on this planet, and the myriad denizens of unknown worlds.
Now, this is a complex and nuanced line of thought – and I am pretty certain that I have only questions to share with you. But YOU may well have something to add to this discussion – and I will be glad to read and reply.
