Category: Faith

Dear Diary

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

pathtothefutureI received a lovely gift for my birthday this year from Araceli. It was a book with 200 writing prompts to help inspire my blogs. In that spirit the following is a diary entry that might be written ten years in the future. Check back in a decade to see how prescient I was.

Dear Diary,

I celebrated my eighty first birthday a couple of weeks ago. Never did I imagine myself as and octogenarian. I’m still filled with optimism and energy but I don’t get around as quickly as I once did. I suppose that I’ve felt my age more in my joints than in my brain but the glories of medicine and engineering have come to my rescue with all of the conveniences that now do work that I once had to do.

My home is kept tidy by the little robots that whir around each day. I don’t know who invented those little “Hazels and Jeeves” but they make a world of difference in my lifestyle. I haven’t had to pick up a broom or dust cloth or mop for quite some time. The self cleaning toilets are the best. The porcelain is squeaky clean all the time allowing me to concentrate on keeping my body in shape with exercise and my mind working with continual learning. I’m enrolled in an online seminar right now that makes me feel as though I am communicating with the great writers of all time. It is mind boggling to consider how much technology has changed the world.

It was touch and go on earth for a time. We all had to adjust to the changing climate but in rushed the best minds, including those of some of my grandchildren, to invent better ways of living while conserving the resources of our earth. It has been like watching science fiction unfold in reality. I always believed that we humans would find solutions to the problems and people have not disappointed. We suffered for a time and then we get to work doing whatever we need to do. I am so proud of all the people who devoted blood sweat and tears to the cause. Mankind’s intellect is such a glorious gift when it is used for the good of all.

I especially like that I can stay independently in my home without fear or inconvenience to anyone. I have a checkup with a nurse practitioner each morning via a computer program that monitors my health all day long. I felt no pain at all when they inserted the chip that sends my vitals to my physicians 24/7. The surgery that repaired my knees was almost bionic. I really enjoyed hiking in the mountains near my brothers’ Colorado cabin last summer just like I was still in my twenties. I no longer need my glasses either after a painless thirty minute procedure. It’s all quite amazing.

I’m a great grandmother now and it is so much fun. The little ones are bright and happy. I “see” them several times each week via a new kind of Skype that is almost like having them in the same room thanks to Virtual Reality. I never feel alone because all of the people that I love are just a few voice commands away and when they actually visit the new transportation systems get them here almost as quickly as teleporting. I keep thinking back to the world of Star Trek and realize that I now live in it in so many ways.

My grandchildren are doing such remarkable things. They all graduated from college and found exciting jobs in the fields that they studied. They are so sweet about coming to visit me often. I’m hosting a big Christmas dinner this month just as I always have except that now my robots are doing all of the work. All I have to do is program them and then sit back and enjoy the party.

It’s difficult to believe that my daughters and sons-in-law are nearing retirement. Where did the years go? Perhaps when they no longer have to report to jobs each day we can travel together. I’m anxious to try that new high speed plane that reaches Europe in only two hours. I especially want to see Notre Dame Cathedral now that it has been repaired. There are still so many journeys that I hope to make.

I feel a bit like my grandfather once did whenever he spoke of all of the innovations that he had witnessed during his lifetime. I suppose that I often took progress for granted until it was threatened by the whims of mankind. Those years of anger and political divisions were worrisome but we finally realized the necessity of working together rather than continually arguing. We fought a kind of battle against our human failings and have come out stronger than ever. Things are not perfect but then they never really are. Nonetheless we have come a very long way in only ten years. It is truly a better world for the majority of the world’s people. We humans are slowly but surely continuing to evolve in positive ways.

If I live as long as my grandfather did I still have almost thirty years to go. I suspect that I will see many glorious advances and have the privilege of watching my family grow and prosper. There will no doubt be tough times here and there but one thing that never seems to change is the inventiveness and resilience of the human spirit along with the grace of God. I look forward to whatever lies ahead.

Be Still and Hear

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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Christmas is my favorite time of year but it is also when I get more stressed out than normal. I push myself to follow routines and traditions that make me soar with happiness and yet I find it less and less easy to be the old energetic self that manages to get every single thing done without a hitch. Filling my calendar with a “to do” list that keeps me buzzing along hour after hour leaves me anxious and aching in ways that I never experienced when I was younger. It’s difficult for me to admit that I can’t work without rest for twelve hours while attempting to make my home a wonderland worthy of Martha Stewart. It irks me that doing so leaves me exhausted and even crippled and angry at myself. I don’t want to be one of those old ladies who suddenly announces that I’m only going to have a tiny ceramic Christmas tree this year and call it a day. Still, I wonder if I am missing the point of the season when I work myself into a physical and mental frenzy. It is only when I sit quietly beside the lights of the Christmas tree and meditate on the scene of the manger figures that my mother gave me long ago that I feel the essence of the true joy of Christmas.

I’m not becoming a Scrooge or a grouchy old woman. I still love all of the senseless frivolities of Christmas, but as I grow older I feel more and more reverence for the reason of the season. It is breathtaking to realize that two thousand years later so many in this world are still influenced by the life and the teachings of a man whose beginnings were so humble. How is it and why is it that millions and millions have believed in his message of hope and love and faith? Why does letting him into my heart bring me so much peace?

Christianity is built on a mystery that some find impossible to accept while I find it impossible to deny. Jesus has walked beside me through horrific times when I truly felt that I might never find the strength to continue and yet here I am, still inching my way through life one step at a time. I somehow know that it has been Jesus who has provided me with the will to persevere. It is he who has listened to my most private concerns and given me the courage to keep going. It is he who has shown me how to see the beauty of this world and its people. From him I have found great joy in ordinary circumstances. When I still my heart and listen I am able to be a better version of myself than I ever thought possible.

The world can be terrifying these days, but probably no more so than when Jesus walked on the dusty roads of the Holy Land. We humans often make a mess of things, even the messages that he gave us. We have a difficult time accepting differences and seeing beyond the superficial. We judge and compare and do all of those things that have caused hurt and pain. We fret when things don’t go the way we want, growing angry even at God. we sometimes don’t think we even need a higher power to help us. We are after all quite inventive and able to stand on our own feet. We grow proud and unwilling to believe that it is possible that we have gotten things wrong and  we forget that Jesus gave us only one guarantee and that is that if we believe what he had to say by trusting him and loving our fellowman our rewards will be immeasurable.

It’s a simple but difficult concept to trust, to keep the faith, to love unconditionally. Mankind is impatient, doubting. We want proof and somehow we require that proof to being devoid of pain or sorrow When it is not, we despair and forget to watch for the signs of God’s presence in the smallest of things like the babbling of a baby or the rising of the sun. All we need do is be still and listen for his voice and we will feel the power of his teachings, we will know that he is never far from us. What better time of year is there to quiet ourselves so that we might feel his presence?

I know that there are many more religions than the one that Jesus inspired. I truly believe that God has been revealed in many different ways to many different cultures. The Jew, the Muslim, the Hindu, the Buddhist, the Mormon are all fellow travelers on a journey that is fraught with both difficulties and joys. From what I know of Jesus he would ask us to love one another in spite of our differences. He would want us to embrace even those who scoff at the very idea of faith in a God. I find that inspiring and the essence of what this season should be.

I try to listen the the quiet each day and ask Jesus to enter my heart. His voice grows ever louder whenever I do. I feel great joy and hear his command to love. He reminds me constantly not to judge or hate or worry about my fate. I feel only trust that all will be well, that Christmas will continue to celebrate the love that was born on that day of long ago. We will be alright in spite of ourselves because he has shown us how to live.

Patience

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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I have trouble being patient, even after seventy one years of knowing that the world more often than not moves slowly. I suppose that I have become a bit better at waiting recently. I’ve leaned that most of the successes that I have enjoyed came from heard work and a willingness to take the necessary time to make them happen. I tend to be okay with situations over which a have a modicum of control, but I become overly anxious when I am at the mercy of others or even God. I have great faith but I also know that sometimes my prayers won’t be answered in the ways that I expect or in the timeframe that I desire.

We all have wishes, dreams, hopes. None of us are particularly keen on the idea of suffering and yet it is something that we all endure. Some people handle it way better than others because they have learned to have faith and patience that the world is unfolding as it was meant to be. It’s not an easy way of accepting all of life’s challenges, but I know those who have mastered the ability to trust that things will eventually work out.

I often speak of prayer, an activity in which I engage throughout each day. I used to ask for very specific outcomes and then feel disappointed when they didn’t happen. I finally realized that the best prayers are those in which I seek the strength to accept the things I cannot change and the courage to tackle those over which I have some control. The Serenity Prayer is my favorite because it clearly outlines the way we should all think about our pleas to God. Instead so often ask for very specific things and then waver in our beliefs if they do not happen.

I am not much of an evangelist. I know those who very naturally speak of their beliefs and spread the word of God with ease. I’ve always felt a bit uncomfortable foisting my on feelings on others but I don’t mind talking with them if they ask for guidance. I do understand why it is difficult for some to feel that there is a special power beyond our own humanity. Faith is a kind of gift that is exceedingly difficult to explain, especially when really bad things are happening to people.

We tend to think that a loving God will wipe away sorrows and hurts for those who fully believe in Him. Instead the most faithful sometimes have as many difficulties as the guy who swears that there is no God. I don’t think that any of us are ever guaranteed a perfect life here on earth. What our prayers accomplish in our times of need is not always miraculous. Often it is little more than the comfort of knowing that we are not alone. A little voice in our souls tells us that we can make it through terrible pain.

The hardest times for me are those when I see loved ones hurting. I would much prefer to be able to somehow transfer their pain to me so that they might be happy once again. It’s especially terrible when they tell me that they do not believe that prayers will help them. They deny that any good has ever come from their pleas to God. They see little use for religion and find going to church a waste of precious time. They have taken a very literal stance regarding a higher power. They expect tangible proof and without it they think that those of us who do believe are silly, maybe even a bit superstitious.

I wish that they might feel what I feel because I have endured great loss, great disappointment, great sorrow and always come through feeling ever stronger and more and more loved by God. My talks with Him are my lifeline. I doubt that I would successfully get through many days without the daily conversations that I hold with Him. He knows me quite well and the very idea that He loves me even with all of my silliness and flaws is overwhelmingly powerful. Building an ever more personal relationship with Him brings me joy and patience even on the darkest days.

I am still working on being better at waiting to see what God has in store for me. I have friends like Danny, Eileen, Susan, Martin and Jezael who never seem to question God’s presence. Their love and faithfulness to Him literally shines from every aspect of their lives. They smile when trouble enters their lives confident that God will walk by their sides through all of the storms. They truly inspire me to be less inclined to bouts of fury when it seems to be taking too long for my suffering to ease.

It can be quite difficult to watch the horrors of the world unfold and still have faith. It can try us to witness so much hypocrisy and evil from people who claim to be acting in the name of God. Our faith and patience can be stretched to their very limits, and yet somehow goodness finds a way to sneak into our lives in the most unexpected ways. That’s when I really hear the voice of God reminding me of the bigger picture and of His constant vigilance even when we can’t see it. I’ll keep praying because it brings me great peace. I simply wish that others might find it as well. I have to remind myself to be patient

A New Way To Praise

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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I once went to a church service with one of my former students. As a cradle Catholic I grew up with a very formalized kind of religion that has often been critiqued and misunderstood so I kept an open mind as I experienced a very different way of connecting with God. After a reading from the Bible and a few words from the minister the people began praying aloud, sending their petitions to God all at one time in a confusing mix of sound. I was not quite sure how to react so I simply attempted to quiet my mind. That’s when I began to hear the profound beauty of their individual prayers and their deep faith that God would somehow comfort them and ease their pain. Before long the sounds of their very personal pleas brought tears to my eyes and a realization that each of us longs for hope and peace in different ways.

My mother was a confirmed Catholic. She believed in its teachings and traditions with all of her heart. Nonetheless she was quite open to other religions and often voiced her philosophy that her main hope was that each person would find a relationship with God in the manner that worked best. To that end she was just fine with the idea of people following their own hearts in deciding which kind of religion worked best for them. She believed that God comes to humans in many forms. She had great respect for the beliefs of others but was always troubled by those who thought that the very idea of a
God of any kind was a human myth. She prayed that each person might find the goodness and power that she felt from a closeness with a personal God.

I watched my mother’s faith and prayer life take her through challenges that might have defeated a lesser person. There was nothing easy about her life and yet she was known far and wide as an optimistic and happy person, someone who gave when she had so little of her own. I witnessed her love of God firsthand and I saw the incredible strength that it gave her. It convinced me that she was not just experiencing some human fairytale. What she felt was unexplainable in the scientific sense but nonetheless quite real.

Religions of all kinds have taken heat in the long course of history. My own Catholic Church is a target for derision these days because of scandals that shake the very foundations of belief. Other sects sometimes appear to be far less kind that they ought to be. The human discussion of all things spiritual is often fraught with anger and hypocrisy and yet at the heart of the matter is the idea that there is a being much bigger than our humanity upon whom we should depend. For some this is the stuff of legend and a source of ridicule, but for people like me and millions of others it is a deeply held conviction.

The most recent class that I have been taking at Rice University School of Continuing Education centers on the Stuart kings, the monarchs who took the throne of England after the death of the childless Elizabeth I, the last of the Tudor rulers. That particular moment in history was marked by sometimes violent religious struggles between the Church of England, more fundamentalist sects like the Puritans, and the Catholic Church. At that point in time the tendency was to attempt to eliminate any group of believers who did not concur with the monarchy and the national church. Strict laws prohibited true freedom of religion and in many ways served to influence later attempts to form fairer democracies, including the one that resulted right here in the United States of America. By law we are supposed to be as tolerant of all faiths as my mother always was.

I bring up all of this because I see so many instances of derision and sometimes even hatred being aimed at various religious groups and individual beliefs. We all too often presume to understand what is in the hearts of people who profess particular philosophies. We judge in places where we have no business to do so.

A perfect example of this is to be found in the person of Kanye West, a brilliant and talented musician and master of words who has by his own admission led a troubled life. Much like my mother he is challenged by the sometimes crippling mood swings of bipolar disorder. He has courageously admitted to having this terrible illness even knowing that it is so misunderstood. We are still in the dark ages when it comes to tolerance and compassion for the mentally ill, and so Kanye has been ridiculed and sometimes even spurned in his journey to find peace of mind. Along the way he has experienced a seemingly dramatic conversion to the Christian faith.

His enthusiasm for Christ has been mocked by those who think that perhaps he is just going through a manic phase. They call him crazy and joke about the strange twists and turns of his life. Others cynically suggest that he has just found a new way to make money. They see his foray into religion as nothing more than a scheme. Thus his new album Jesus Is King has been panned by many of his critics as little more than the mad ravings of a diseased mind.

I have listened to Kanye’s songs that praise the glory of Christ and I hear instead the work of a genius who has found a power that had previously been missing from his life. I applaud his courage in putting his entire career and reputation on the line with such a daring project. He will no doubt be questioned and misunderstood by many but the message in each track tells the story of someone who truly believes. He has taken his God given talents and used them to shout the good news that he has found. Jesus Is King is a gloriously creative gift, not the ravings of a madman and it is impossible and even wrong for any of us to question what truly lies in the heart of Kanye West. Instead we should celebrate the happiness and comfort that he appears to have found in God.

Liturgical music has included the compositions of giants. There have been Gregorian chants and litanies, symphonies and gospel pieces. Now the voice of Kanye West uses rap to tell of the glories of Jesus. It is both brilliant and lovely. His is a new way to praise. We should all celebrate that he has found a way to ease the tempest in his mind by sharing his genius with those of us who believe.

My Guru

Published on by Sharron BurnettLeave a comment

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My life as a wife, mom, and teacher was always busy. Everyone in the household was constantly coming and going. Often it seemed as though the only times that we were all together was when we finally managed to get to sleep at night. I’d like to be able to say that I ran a tight and orderly ship but what we mostly had was a state of controlled chaos.

When the demands of our schedules and responsibilities became overwhelming I found myself wanting to go visit my grandfather who had a mysteriously calming influence on me. Being with him felt something like I imagine it would be to have an audience with the Dali Lama. Just seeing him sitting in his recliner puffing on his pipe brought my blood pressure down instantly and the wisdom he exuded with his every remark settled my anxieties more surely than the most powerful medication.

I never had to call my grandfather to set up an appointment. If I just showed up without warning he welcomed me as though he had been planning for my arrival. He was invariably clean shaven and neat in his khaki pants held up by suspenders. He wore the same style of his meticulously polished high top leather shoes that might have been the fashion in his youth before the dawn of the twentieth century. He had lost all but a ring of his hair that he kept neat and trimmed. He was a fastidious man of routine and habit whose calmness was always reliable. I knew what I would find before I even reached his home, and he never disappointed me.

His deep southern drawl cultivated in the foothills of Virginia had a soothing lilt and he gloried in telling the stories that delighted me no matter how many times I heard them. He might have mesmerized an audience in a one man show had he taken his talent on the road, but that is not who he was. Instead his magical effect on me lay in his constancy and the very story of his life that was rooted in hardship and survival without complaint. He was a person of impeccable character who had journeyed through life with grit and hard work. When he spoke he did not so much offer advice as model it through the thematic threads of his tales.

Grandpa was of another time and place who had somehow both transcended and embraced the marvels of the Industrial Revolution and the twenty first century. With his keen intellect and a set of hardcore values rooted in integrity he had somehow overcome one challenge after another. By the time I was making my pilgrimages to see him he owned little more than the clothes on his back and survived in a rented room with a meager pension that provided him with the most basic human needs. In spite of what some might call a very restricted lifestyle he found great joy in the simplicity of his existence which he always boasted was so much grander than what he had known as a boy.

I suppose that his optimism and faith in mankind was the thing that most inspired me. He taught me how to find satisfaction and joy in the most simple aspects of life and to eschew comparisons with those who appear to have more. He believed that it was futile to wish that things had been different in his story. He accepted the many hardships that he experienced as just part of the human experience. He reveled in knowing that he had overcome so much and was still standing.

When my grandfather died I was devastated. His one hundred eight years on this earth had somehow mislead me to believe that he would always be waiting to talk with me. I found myself regretting that I had not gone to see him more often or stayed just a bit longer instead of deferring to things that I had to do. I still hear his comforting voice and smell the aroma of his pipe tobacco wafting into the air. There is so much more that I want to know about him and so much that I would like to say to him.

We seem to be living in a time when society is rushing around faster than ever before. The trend is to tie ourselves and our children to unrelenting schedules. We are continually exposed to an infinite loop of complaining about how terrible things are. We attempt to assuage our stress with entertainments that are of little or no value. Some attempt to hide their pain with drugs and alcohol. It can feel overwhelming to observe the level of dissatisfaction. All of it makes me long for the calm and contentment of my grandfather, a man who dealt with the hand that was given him with grace and appreciation.

When all is said and done my grandfather taught me that we have more control over our lives than we may think. Both good and bad things will indeed happen but we have the ultimate control over what attitudes we choose to have. His philosophy was to find a grain of good even in the worst possible scenario. He was a strong and courageous man not just because he had to be but because he wanted to be. He embraced each moment just as it was, learning something about the world and himself as he went. I miss him greatly but he taught me how to survive and showed me how precious life can and should be. He was my guru.