by John Ortberg
Resources by John Ortberg
Everybody’s Normal Till You Get to Know Them
(book, ebook, audio)
God Is Closer Than You Think
(book, ebook, audio, curriculum with Stephen and Amanda Sorenson)
If You Want to Walk on Water,
You’ve Got to Get Out of the Boat
(book, ebook, audio, curriculum with Stephen and Amanda Sorenson)
Know Doubt
(book, ebook, previously titled Faith and Doubt)
The Life You’ve Always Wanted
(book, ebook, audio, curriculum with Stephen and Amanda Sorenson)
Love Beyond Reason
The Me I Want to Be
(book, ebook, audio, curriculum with Scott Rubin)
Soul Keeping
(book, ebook, curriculum with Christine M. Anderson)
When the Game Is Over, It All Goes Back in the Box
(book, ebook, audio, curriculum with Stephen and Amanda Sorenson)
Who Is This Man?
(book, ebook, audio, curriculum with Christine M. Anderson)
ZONDERVAN
Soul Keeping
Copyright © 2014 by John Ortberg
ePub Edition © March 2014: ISBN 978-0-310-41346-2
Requests for information should be addressed to:
Zondervan, 3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Ortberg, John.
Soul keeping : caring for the most important part of you / John Ortberg. — 1st [edition].
pages cm
“A guided journey into the tiny, fragile, vulnerable, precious thing about you.”
ISBN 978-0-310-27596-1 (hardcover)
1. Spirituality — Christianity. 2. Spiritual life — Christianity. 3. Soul — Christianity. I. Title.
BV4501.3.O767 2014
233'.5 — dc23 2013046766
All Scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from The Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.
Other Bible versions quoted in this book are listed on page 197, which hereby becomes a part of this copyright page.
Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other — except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Cover design: Curt Diepenhorst
Cover and interior photography: Tolga Sipahi / Getty Images®
Interior design: Beth Shagene
Printed in the United States of America
14 15 16 17 18 19 /DCI/ 22 21 20 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
To Dallas Albert Willard
(1935 – 2013)
An unceasing spiritual being with an eternal destiny in God’s great universe.
“In those days there were giants in the land . . .”
CONTENTS
Foreword by Dr. Henry Cloud
Prologue: The Keeper of the Stream
Introduction: Holy Ground
I. WHAT THE SOUL IS
1. The Soul Nobody Knows
2. What Is the Soul?
3. A Soul-Challenged World
4. Lost Souls
5. Sin and the Soul
II. WHAT THE SOUL NEEDS
6. It’s the Nature of the Soul to Need
7. The Soul Needs a Keeper
8. The Soul Needs a Center
9. The Soul Needs a Future
10. The Soul Needs to Be with God
11. The Soul Needs Rest
12. The Soul Needs Freedom
13. The Soul Needs Blessing
14. The Soul Needs Satisfaction
15. The Soul Needs Gratitude
III. THE SOUL RESTORED
16. Dark Night of the Soul
17. Morning
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Bible Versions
Sources
FOREWORD
BY DR. HENRY CLOUD
As John Ortberg talks about the “soul,” I remember a moment as if it were yesterday. I was a clinical director of a Christian psychiatric hospital, and we were having the weekly meeting that we called “Staffing.” It was the time, each Wednesday, when the doctors, psychologists nurses, therapists, art and music therapists, and group therapists all got together to go over each patient’s treatment. We would talk about what was happening with them in the groups and in their individual therapy, their progress, and our action plans to help.
I loved this time each week. It was a rich time of seeing a group of dedicated professionals come together to truly care for, discuss, and plan goodness for the people they were trying to help. We celebrated patient’s successes, breakthroughs, and the like, and we agonized over their difficulties and misfortunes. It was one of the best examples of community love that I have ever seen . . . people bringing their gifts together in the service of others.
“Sarah did it! Last night in family group she finally told her mother that she was not going to take the job Mom has been pressuring her to take, and was going to figure out her own path. It was awesome,” a nurse reported. We all cheered as we experienced the fruitfulness of Sarah’s hard work.
“Alex is having a hard time this week . . . he found out that his uncle who has held him together is moving, and he is afraid of what he is going to do without him. He fears going back to drugs and his old friends,” his therapist reported.
“Susan is gearing up for discharge. She has done great . . . ready to go back to grad school now, energy has returned, and she is stable. I think everything is in place . . . depression is gone, and she hasn’t binged and purged at all,” said Susan’s psychologist. We were all so happy for her.
Then came the moment I will always remember.
It was time to talk about Maddie, and I could tell everyone’s expression changed. “Fell” would be a better word. Why? Maddie was a very difficult person to like. She had developed a way about her that was off-putting, even when she was seemingly engaged with others. It seemed that something was always wrong with others, with the world around her, even with us who were trying to help her. Her husband was all too familiar with being the one who was “wrong” as well.
We all turned to Graham, her psychologist, and I asked him what was happening with Maddie. That is when he made this statement:
“Well . . . it seems that Maddie still has no interest in having an interior life.”
I will never forget it. That statement said it all: Maddie had no interest in looking at her internal world. Her attitudes, her hurts, her strengths, her patterns of thinking and behaving, or not trusting and not risking, her spiritual life, and maybe most of all, her avoidance of embracing her real suffering and the courage to resolve it.
As a result, we all shared the same lack of hope for her, at least at this juncture. As long as she was not going to embrace her “interior life,” we all knew that her “life” was not going to change much at all. Whereas with the other people our task was to help provide paths, skills, and resources for them to embrace and develop their interior and interpersonal world, with Maddie our task was to get her to see that she has one. There really is a “life” inside of her that gives rise to the external life she complains about every day. That was our task . .
. to get Maddie to see, embrace, and develop her internal life — her real life.
John Ortberg is doing that for us in this book. I could not stop reflecting upon that day in the hospital as I read these pages. Graham’s words, “Maddie has no interest in having an interior life,” were words that can too often be applied to me, to others whom I work with, and to pretty much everyone I know . . . at least at various moments. While we might not have a “clinical” problem such as depression or bulimia, we all have issues in life that emanate from our souls, from parts of the soul that have been ignored. It is the human condition; we ignore our internal life, and as a result, we do not have the outside “life” that we desire, relationally or functionally. We get lost, and we need help to be reminded to work on that internal “life,” the real one . . . what John is calling our “soul.”
He reminds us that we have one and, as Jesus told us, that our soul is our real life. It is the one from which everything else emanates. It is the one that God breathed into mankind, when we became “living souls.”
But John goes much farther than reminding us that we have a soul. He also becomes a loving “staff meeting” for all of us. He not only tells the Maddie in me that I need to take an interest in developing this interior life, but also gives me some real help in outlining some areas to focus on in the journey. In this book he becomes what John is at his best . . . a spiritual guide.
This book will not only help you to realize that you have a soul, an interior life, and reveal its importance, but will also give you some tools and handles to grab as you develop that life. It will help you to get grounded again, or even for the first time, with the One who first breathed that life into you, and Who desires every day to breathe more and more life into every corner of your being. And it will remind you that your soul, your interior life that results in what happens on the outside, is not a temporary state. It is not a focus for your “quiet time” or just your spiritual journey . . . a religious sector for the time being. As Jesus said, it is your real life, and you do not want to lose it. Now, or in the eternal future.
John reminds us that while we might be living in a body, or in a context of a career or family or community or service, there is a soul that integrates our whole person — will, mind, and body — into an “unceasing spiritual being with an eternal destiny in God’s great universe.” It is the ultimate reality of who you are, past today’s circumstance or context. It is the eternal now that will be your eternal you. And that becomes a wake-up call and a motivator to do what the Maddie in me sometimes does not want to do: . . . take an interest in this internal life . . . take a diligent interest and stewardship of this life that God has breathed . . . this soul.
As I read, I was thankful to John for giving us this reminder and this guide. I don’t know about you, but I need for someone from time to time to wake up the “Maddie in me” and remind me to make sure that I am doing what the Creator of this life tells me to do so that the life he gave me will continue into more and more life. And I need a guide to give me some steps. John has done both . . . awakened us and guided us.
So, take an interest in your internal life, and John will give you some very helpful guidance.
PROLOGUE
THE KEEPER OF THE STREAM
There once was a town high in the Alps that straddled the banks of a beautiful stream. The stream was fed by springs that were old as the earth and deep as the sea.
The water was clear like crystal. Children laughed and played beside it; swans and geese swam on it. You could see the rocks and the sand and the rainbow trout that swarmed at the bottom of the stream.
High in the hills, far beyond anyone’s sight, lived an old man who served as Keeper of the Springs. He had been hired so long ago that now no one could remember a time when he wasn’t there. He would travel from one spring to another in the hills, removing branches or fallen leaves or debris that might pollute the water. But his work was unseen.
One year the town council decided they had better things to do with their money. No one supervised the old man anyway. They had roads to repair and taxes to collect and services to offer, and giving money to an unseen stream-cleaner had become a luxury they could no longer afford.
So the old man left his post. High in the mountains, the springs went untended; twigs and branches and worse muddied the liquid flow. Mud and silt compacted the creek bed; farm wastes turned parts of the stream into stagnant bogs.
For a time no one in the village noticed. But after a while, the water was not the same. It began to look brackish. The swans flew away to live elsewhere. The water no longer had a crisp scent that drew children to play by it. Some people in the town began to grow ill. All noticed the loss of sparkling beauty that used to flow between the banks of the streams that fed the town. The life of the village depended on the stream, and the life of the stream depended on the keeper.
The city council reconvened, the money was found, the old man was rehired. After yet another time, the springs were cleaned, the stream was pure, children played again on its banks, illness was replaced by health, the swans came home, and the village came back to life.
The life of a village depended on the health of the stream.
The stream is your soul. And you are the keeper.
Our soul is like a stream of water, which gives strength, direction, and harmony to every other area of our life. When that stream is as it should be, we are constantly refreshed and exuberant in all we do, because our soul itself is then profusely rooted in the vastness of God and his kingdom, including nature; and all else within us is enlivened and directed by that stream. Therefore we are in harmony with God, reality, and the rest of human nature and nature at large.
— DALLAS WILLARD
IN RENOVATION OF THE HEART
INTRODUCTION
HOLY GROUND
Sometimes the soul gets sifted and shaped in places you could never imagine and ways you could never expect. For me it was in Box Canyon.
Box Canyon is a rocky hideaway tucked between Simi Valley and the San Fernando Valley west of Los Angeles. Cowboy B-movies and television westerns like The Lone Ranger used to be shot there. It is a hodgepodge of homes ranging from a castle built by a postal worker in the 1940s, to a converted water tower, to a two-story plywood home built over an outhouse. Its occupants tend not to take kindly to zoning officials, who have been known to be shot at and had their tires slashed. It has dirt roads leading to homes guarded by “No Trespassing” signs, or a local variant: “This property protected by shotgun law.” Ten-thousand-square-foot mansions stand next door to cabins with rusting cars and farm machinery in their front yards. It is home to hippies and rednecks and nonconformists, with the occasional drug dealer thrown in for good measure. In 1948, a San Francisco divorcé calling himself Krishna Venta began a commune called WKFL (Wisdom, Knowledge, Faith, and Love), with this sign: “Ye who enter here enter upon holy ground.” He said he was 244,000 years old and claimed to be Jesus Christ, but he died along with nine other members when two husbands jealous of his attentions to their wives tossed a bomb into WKFL.
Box Canyon has had two more-or-less-famous residents: one a cult leader and mass murderer named Charles Manson, and the other a writer and intellectual named Dallas Willard. Such are the possibilities of the human soul. Dallas was a retired professor of philosophy at the University of Southern California (USC). I first drove to his home on a sweltering August afternoon more than two decades ago. I had read a book by Dallas that moved me more than anything I had ever read. I was a young pastor at a small church in Simi Valley, California, and was surprised to learn that Dallas lived just a few miles away. I wrote to tell him how much his book meant to me, and to my surprise he wrote back inviting me to come visit him.
I suppose the truth is that a big part of why I went to see him is that he was (in my small world) a celebrity and that I thought if I could be around someone important, perhaps a little importance could rub off on me too. And maybe he could help m
e become more successful.
I did not know then what I would learn over many years — that he was a healer of souls. I did not know that his home in that quirky little canyon was a kind of spiritual hospital. Long ago, people used to speak of spiritual leaders as those who have been entrusted with the “cure of souls”; we get old words like curate from that expression. Dallas was the first soul curate I knew, although that’s not a title bestowed by USC. I thought I might learn something about the soul from Dallas, but I did not know how hungry and thirsty my own soul was. I only knew that at moments when Dallas would look off into the distance as if he were seeing something I could not see and would speak about how good God is, I would find myself beginning to cry.
But before that first visit, all I knew of Dallas was that he taught philosophy at the University of Southern California and wrote about subjects such as spiritual disciplines. I pictured an East Coast, pipe-smoking, sherry-drinking Episcopalian who wore tweed jackets with elbow patches.
Not so much.
I found his address: a small house behind a white picket fence. When he bought it fifty years ago, it overlooked a lake that has long since dried up; now it offers an excellent view of the San Fernando Valley smog.
Inside, furniture was scarce, old, and inexpensive. The house, like Dallas’s head, was mostly furnished with books. There was an air conditioning unit in the living room window that was installed forty years ago and roared like a jet engine, so you had to yell to speak over it when it ran, which was not often. To say that Dallas and his wife, Jane, were not materialistic would be like saying that the pope doesn’t date much. Dallas told me once about a construction worker he used to meet with to talk about soul matters. (The picture of a scruffy concrete worker having long talks about God and the soul with an erudite philosopher is a poignant one.) The first time he saw Dallas’s house, he went home and told his wife, “Honey, I finally met someone with furniture worse than us.” I think Dallas took it as a compliment.