by Mary C Neal
“I feel like I’ve moved on.” Sometimes we can’t separate the culture of a religious community in our past from what we feel and want in our present. As we mature, we don’t identify with “that crowd” anymore, and we sure don’t want to go back. Even the smallest memories—the unpleasant smell of the pastor’s breath, the hunched-over old woman tending the church cemetery, an awkward conversation about our faith in high school or college—can stand in the way.
“I could never be good enough.” I have spoken with many who want a spiritual experience but not the transformation that can follow. Others want to be transformed but resist the commitments that might spring from a deep spiritual experience. Either way, I believe many of us are held back by fear that we can’t live up to what we think are God’s expectations for us.
“I can’t get past my intellectual reservations.” Intellectual doubts get a lot of notice in publishing and media, and of course they must be taken seriously. But some people are prevented from embracing a deep spiritual life by a kind of intellectual arrogance. We allow our “scientific” beliefs to filter what we are willing to believe, or even consider. We claim to reject anything that cannot be seen, touched, or scientifically proven—ignoring that we routinely accept many unseen facts that can only be inferred from their effects (gravity, electromagnetic waves, the wind). We cannot see or prove the existence of love, kindness, or compassion, but who would doubt their reality?
“Religion is a crutch.” It’s the American way to view ourselves as strong, self-reliant, rational, and not in need of God. So often we want God’s blessings, but not His guidance. We believe we have earned our achievements and don’t want to share credit with God, although we may want to blame Him when things go poorly. Within our current culture, we value power and prestige over humility. It would be demeaning to our sense of position to wash the feet of immigrants as Pope Francis did, or to arrive on the back of a donkey like Jesus.
“I’m spiritual but not religious.” Another common view in our time, this one assumes that spirituality and religion can be separated from each other, and that spirituality, freed from the limitations of organized religion, is somehow more pure. A kayaking companion once told me that he was very spiritual even though he wasn’t into “the God thing.” It became clear in our conversation that he, like so many other people who claim to be spiritual but not religious, simply wanted to design an experience of his own making—one that was not accountable to a larger community or higher revelation, and one that could be picked up or put down at will. Claiming to be spiritual can become another way to stay in charge, to not open our hearts to a power that is greater than ourselves.
“But you don’t know what I’ve done.” So many seekers I’ve met are effectively blocked from opening their hearts to God by guilt and self-condemnation. They feel they have done something unforgivable and, in judging themselves, believe they are unlovable. Others project onto God the toxic relationship they had with an earthly father. If you see yourself in this obstacle, you probably struggle with deep feelings of being unworthy of God’s love or of anything good happening in your life.
Would you say that the spiritual landscape of your life today is cluttered by any of the “baggage” I’ve just identified? Or by other obstacles you could add? I encourage you to describe to the best of your ability what is true for you. This isn’t about finding a quick fix; for any of us, these kinds of issues are the work of a lifetime.
For now, I suggest you spread out your unwanted baggage in God’s loving presence. Surrender it into his hands with a simple prayer. I could recommend this one based on the Psalms:
You are good,
And what you do is good.
Create in me a clean heart, Oh God,
And renew a steadfast spirit within me.
(Psalm 119:86, 51:10)
Or it could be as simple as saying:
“Please God, take my cares upon your shoulders and give me rest.
Let your Holy Spirit help guide me, and give me discernment so that I may know your love.”
I think you’ll find, as I and many others have, that when we examine and name our obstacles, and give them back to God as an act of faith, powerful forces are released in our lives. We diminish the power of negative experiences to block our progress, and we give God room to bring the renewal we long for.
We are also prepared to take the next step in our journey toward our new life in God.
ASK, HOW MUCH EVIDENCE DO I NEED?
To “look beyond” constructively, we need to decide what it would take to actually put us in motion. For each of us, the approach is likely to vary. As a concrete and linear thinker, I expect integration of my thoughts, words, and behavior. I prefer data to abstractions, action to ambivalence. I am rather intolerant of hypocrisy. I feel that a person should intellectually and methodically evaluate religious and spiritual truths to the best of his or her ability, and then make a choice. Life’s too short to dither and debate. On the other hand, once the choice is made, we should embody our professed beliefs.
What’s your preferred process? What kind of evidence feels most important for you?
It’s beyond the scope of this book or my own experience to present the scientific argument of a Francis Collins, the philosophical treatise of a C. S. Lewis, or the theological case of a Timothy Keller. Besides, as foundational as reading like that can be, I’ve found that the majority of seekers find their way to God in wildly different ways—each suited, no doubt, to our individual needs and nature. For you, it might take years of careful, scholarly investigation. For someone else, it might take one prayer, one encounter with an angelic presence, one dream, one scripture, one moment when heaven seemed to open up and speak your name.
Just be sure you are genuinely focused on testing your hypothesis, not—in the guise of a diligent search—actually committed to nonaction and self-protection. We can easily behave like we’re in a court of law. Rather than accepting convincing evidence, we hold out for undeniable proof. There’s a difference. One is a creative, proactive posture; the other is a defensive posture. This is especially true when we consider owning a life-changing truth for ourselves.
Jesus illustrated this point with his story of a hungry, sore-covered beggar named Lazarus who died and went to heaven, and a rich man who died and went to Hades. In Jesus’s story, the suffering rich man looks up “far away” and sees Lazarus in comfort by Abraham’s side. The rich man calls out to Abraham for relief, but Abraham gently reminds him it’s too late for that.
So the rich man tries another approach:
“[The rich man] answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus (who was revived from being dead) to my family, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’
“Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’
“ ‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’
“He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead’.” (Luke 16:27–31)
In effect, Jesus is asking his audience, “How much evidence do you need?” The rich man wants Abraham to send his family proof from the other side of God’s purposes, but Abraham reminds him that there was already sufficient evidence on Earth.
Do you understand the rich man’s request? I do. In fact, somewhat like the rich man, I have often wondered why all people are not given a dramatic spiritual experience like mine to convince them of God’s existence. But how much proof would it take to persuade a person who doesn’t want to be persuaded? In a nod to what would happen later at his own resurrection, Jesus said, in effect, “Yep, well that kind of evidence doesn’t exist.” It is not surprising to me that so many people have profound spiritual experiences and turn to God only when something dramatic happens in their life that exposes the illusory nature of control. Perhaps th
ey develop an illness that does not respond to treatment, a traumatic injury forces them into the intensive care unit, or a loved one dies unexpectedly.
While these are all common reasons and excuses for not forming a hypothesis or pursuing a spiritual life, believing in God is not usually an intellectual problem. Some people just don’t want to believe. They don’t want to yield to God or change their behavior. Being a casual person of faith feels good and is easy. Rather than feeling accountable to living the way God would have us live, we choose our actions and effortlessly forget the times we yelled at someone, gossiped about a friend, flirted with a coworker, or blurred the ethics of a business deal. Trusting God with our future also compels us to release our own expectations, and most of us would prefer to understand God’s plan before agreeing to it.
Fortunately, as spiritual beings having a physical experience (see Chapter 3), you and I can count on the Spirit of wisdom and comfort to be with us in our search. I promise that you’ll discover, as millions have before you, that if your heart is open to God’s leading, and you are willing to sincerely look, you will find sufficient evidence to trigger a personal spiritual change. In fact, in Jeremiah 29:13 and Proverbs 8:17, God makes it clear that He wants to be found.
NOW, FORM A TESTABLE HYPOTHESIS
If forming a personal hypothesis to guide you sounds like high science to you, don’t let the unfamiliar term throw you off. A hypothesis is simply an organizing tool to help you get your work done, the beam from a lighthouse to help you navigate across an ocean of data. To write a hypothesis and set about to confirm or deny it is, in its own way, an act of faith on the part of the scientist. He or she sends up a trial balloon to see what will happen. It’s time to see what the facts bear out.
I recommend keeping things simple and direct. For a life that warrants living with absolute trust, your hypothesis could read something like “God is real and present” or “God’s promises are true.”
That’s it. Now you know what you’re testing. Now you’re ready to collect data on your way to a really big prize—a radically new way of seeing and experiencing your life with God.
ACTIONS AND REFLECTION STEPS TO HELP YOU “LOOK BEYOND”
For each of these steps, write your responses in a journal or other record. That will invite you to be thorough and allow you to return to them again and again for contemplation and prayer.
1. Have you ever put your faith to the test in a thoughtful, openhearted way? If so, what was the result? What result would you most want from the evaluation process of looking beyond?
2. What emotional obstacles, rooted in your own story, have played the greatest part in keeping you from trusting God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind?
3. What intellectual obstacles have exerted the strongest influence in keeping you from experiencing absolute trust?
4. What kind of evidence will you need to trust God completely with your life?
5. What is your working hypothesis that you want to test against the information you’ll gather? Write it out.
Chapter 15
STEP 2: LOOK AROUND
Collecting Evidence from the Natural World and Other People
“I can see how it might be possible for a man to look down upon the earth and be an atheist, but I cannot conceive how he could look up into the heavens and say there is no God.”
—ABRAHAM LINCOLN
What does it mean to collect evidence for a spiritual search? Does it mean sitting through endless sermons, reading weighty tomes, retiring to fast and pray for a month at a hermitage? It could. But that’s not where I’d start.
In this chapter, we look around at both our physical world and life experience for signs that a supernatural, loving God is hiding in plain sight. After all, if God and the supernatural are everywhere present, couldn’t we expect to see hints of that sparkling like diamonds in all directions?
What do you see when you look around? Not on a particularly special day, but on an ordinary one. Allow me to answer that question from my own life.
Living in rural Wyoming as I do, I’m reminded all the time that nature is full of divine evidence, pulsing with mysteries. Out my bedroom window, I see the silhouette of a solitary tree in the distant field. Often, an eagle or osprey perches solemnly in its branches, and I am always moved by its majesty. This is also the direction of my son’s grave, and I almost always think of him when I look in this direction.
When I look out the kitchen window, I see aspen and cottonwood trees, ranchland, and mountains. I may see the chickens running around, and I often see (and hear) elk, moose, foxes, and coyotes. I occasionally see ermines. Depending on the season, horses or cattle are likely to be grazing in the field beyond our fence.
Looking toward the front of our house, I see our pond, which attracts herons, ducks, and geese. Mornings and evenings, I see trout rising to the surface to feed on the latest hatch of insects.
Inside our house, my glance often goes to the many photos of my family and of our adventures together. Every photo is a testament of grace, and I’m grateful.
I usually bicycle to work during the warmer months. Along the bike path, I see all sorts of nesting birds, but mostly robins, tanagers, and mountain bluebirds. I see their babies begin to fly. I notice when the flowers begin to blossom and smell their sweet fragrances. I luxuriate in the gift of breath and happily feel the warmth of the sun. No matter what the day brings, exercising always makes me feel great.
In the fall, I watch the aspens changing color. It always fascinates me to remember that a grove of aspen trees are genetically identical because they tend to be one enormous organism, linked together underground by a single, extended root system. That’s why the leaves in an aspen grove all turn yellow within hours or days of one another. It always makes me think of how interconnected we all are.
These are some of the things I see routinely. On any given day, I can choose to overlook them and let them fade into the background of my life, or I can choose to see God’s handiwork within their details.
This chapter invites you to wake up to God in your day. Not the best, most miraculous, most “spiritual” day you ever had—just your ordinary day. What do you see in the world around you, in the human story unfolding through time, in your friends’ experiences? Where do you notice God’s fingerprints? Where might the proofs of heaven be peeking through in your life?
It’s all so easy to miss!
LOOK AT NATURE
I believe if we study the world with intellectual honesty, it is reasonable to conclude there must be a God. The universe is breathtakingly complex. More astonishing still is that this complexity exists in a state of perfect balance, never spinning out of control into chaos, which I take as evidence in plain sight of a careful and intricate design.
If you find an old watch in an attic keeping perfect time, would you assume that random chance assembled it and gave it purpose? Likewise, we know the stones in an ancient wall didn’t arrange themselves with such precision. A painter’s vision and design are obvious on every canvas, and we follow footprints in the forest knowing they will lead to the deer. The psalmist knew this when he wrote, “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands. Day after day they pour forth speech; night after night they reveal knowledge” (Psalm 19:1–2).
Seeing God around you might be as straightforward as doing the math.
Analytics came easily to Douglas Ell, a man with math and physics degrees from MIT, a master’s degree in theoretical math from the University of Maryland, and a law degree from the University of Connecticut. He was a self-proclaimed atheist who treated God as a joke, feeling intellectual disdain for the very concept. But when he mathematically evaluated the (im)probabilities of events in the natural world, his long-standing atheism gave way to bold faith in a Creator God. He wrote:
At one point, the math nerd in me could not help but calculate, literally on the back of an envelope on an airplane, the fantastic improba
bility that a single functional protein was ever created by accident in the entire history of the universe. I was thunderstruck—it was an “Aha” moment. I remember staring at the calculations in disbelief—couldn’t others do the math, and see what seemed obvious? It was a “no-brainer.” At that moment, I knew modern science supported belief in God.1
Practice mindfulness as you pass through creation today—whether you find yourself on a crowded sidewalk, in a noisy hallway at school, or driving to work. Look around—at the rain, the wind in the trees, an icicle, the waves on the beach, a ladybug on a rose.
LOOK AT THE HUMAN BODY
Your body, whether young or old, consists of something like forty trillion cells, or about five hundred cells for every bright star in the Milky Way. Your body has been described as the most advanced structure in the known universe.2 So, for a refresher in our proximity to miracles every day, the wonders of your own physical being make a compelling place to start.
Sometimes when I’m in a routine surgery I find myself thinking about the astonishing complexity and perfection of the human body. In my practice as a spinal surgeon, I might be doing a spinal injection one day, disc replacement surgery the next, and fusing bones together on a different day. But whether it is working in the operating room or treating patients in my office, I am keenly aware of the fact that I don’t actually heal anyone; neither does any physician, for that matter. What I do is to invite healing, preparing the way for injured bones and tendons to do the work of healing on their own. I never fail to be amazed at a body’s ability to heal itself and to always try to get back to a more functional state.