Studying Good

Posted on by joynow23

I know most of us are well past the formal schooling parts of our lives, but studying doesn’t stop just because we’re not going to class anymore. All through our lives, in fact every single day, we are studying whatever we are paying attention to, whatever we’re curious about, any topic or problem or activity or goal we spend energy trying to understand better. To identify what we are studying at this time in our lives, we have only to ask, What is capturing my attention? What do I spend the bulk of my time focusing on? What am I curious about, interested in, leaning forward to see?

Our capacity to learn is one of our greatest strengths, helping us adapt and change, recover after losses and setbacks, expand into new interests, learn new things, be open to new possibilities. In fact, just yesterday I read a science article that offered a new idea about why we age, saying what scientists call “selectively advantageous instability”—in other words, problems and challenges we have to solve—give us the opportunity to stay resilient, which turns out to be instrumental in slowing the aging process. The more resilient we are, the younger we feel. And who knows? Maybe our cells are listening.

One of the defining loves of my life from the time I was very small was my love of animals. I cared deeply about everything living, from tiny creepy-crawly things to birds and bats and cats and dogs. Sometimes my tender heart spilled over and my family wouldn’t quite know what to do with me as I wept along the path in the woods because I was sure a tiny woolly worm was lost and couldn’t find his family.

My fascination with animals was fed by my great-grandmother, who told me stories from her childhood about a friendly squirrel that waited each day in a certain tree to jump onto her shoulder and search her pockets for bits of leftover lunch she had saved. I wanted a squirrel friend too. Grandma continually gave me potted containers of baby maple trees—the kind that plant themselves from the helicopter seeds we see each fall. And she took me to the neighbor’s house to visit their beautiful Persian cat Bootsy—who did in fact have white “boots” on her four paws.

I remember pouring over the books my grandma had about nature—big, 300-page photo collections of national parks, Ansel Adams photographs, stories about animals of all kinds. When I was around 11 or 12, I discovered on her bookshelves the James Herriot series, All Creatures Great and Small, and that began a complex relationship with those books that I’ve had ever since. I love the animals, the people, the countryside, the stories; and I simply can’t bear to hear about animal suffering—even in a work of fiction when I’m certain everything will turn out okay. The little girl who cried over wooly worms still lives in my heart—tender, hoping, caring so much.

When I was old enough, my mom let me use my birthday money to get a turtle bowl—remember those kidney-shaped, plastic bowls with the fluorescent pink palm tree in the middle?—and two silver-dollar-sized turtles to keep in my room. I loved those tiny turtles! But they also provided my earliest experiences of loss. I was brokenhearted and felt responsible when one of my turtles died, and after what seemed like a suitable period of grief, I went back to the pet store, to get my lonely turtle a new friend. I began studying how to create good conditions for these tiny beings so they could thrive. I read books about them. I kept a “study notebook” where I tracked their daily care: How often I fed them and how much, when they got lettuce as a treat, when I cleaned the bowl. My mind was curious and fascinated; my heart was engaged. I was a student of what felt like very important questions, then and now: What helps life thrive? What do we need to flourish? How does loving care contribute to our well-being, as turtles and as people?

In our Old Testament reading this morning the psalmist points out that God’s light and faithful care comes to lead us back to the place where we should be, surrounded by God’s thoughts, God’s goodness, the kingdom of heaven. The psalmist calls this, your holy mountain. We might think of it as a place where we can see God working, in love and beauty, active and present in our lives:

Send me your light and your faithful care;
let them lead me;
let them bring me to your holy mountain,
to the place where you dwell.
Then I will go to the altar of God,
to God, my joy and my delight.

The good God plants in our hearts may start small, just a little interest, something fun, an inspiration for something new that we think we’d enjoy. As we follow that nudge toward goodness, it grows into something bigger, something that we can share with others, maybe comforting a heart, bringing a smile, or helping someone through a time of loneliness. Nothing good is ever wasted. If we are willing, God will extend that good thing so it blesses not only us but others too.

But with our minds being what they are, the good we might study can get drowned out by the pressures and worries of our day. Researchers have never settled on an official number of thoughts we have each day—some place it as high as 60,000—but a huge percentage of those thoughts, perhaps as much as 90 percent of them, are similar to or the same as the thoughts we entertained yesterday. Perhaps they are just on rinse and repeat in our minds as we survey social media, worry about the future, fuss about our bodies, and make plans for the day. But in the mix there are many opportunities—perhaps unlimited opportunities—for us to open our minds and hearts to the good idea God has for us.

A continuing verse in Psalm 43 reads,

Why, my soul, are you downcast?
Why so disturbed within me?

Feelings of unease and upset come when we lose touch with God’s goodness and our fears and worries take over, painting a darkened picture of the world in our hearts and minds. Perhaps our attention has been captured by all the bad things we see in the world and we’re feeling disheartened and discouraged. Or we’re overwhelmed with physical or emotional pain, upset about an interaction, or dwelling on something we wish hadn’t happened. Instead of studying the good that can lead us forward, we are focusing on what’s wrong, what hurts; and that can make it seem like the circumstance is  somehow beyond the reach of God’s love and the calm of God’s harmony.

When we allow negative thoughts to hijack our perspective, our souls do feel downcast. Our hearts are disturbed. Why? Because we are looking away from God’s light. We are putting a different “god”—a scary god of chaos and disorder–above the One true loving source of all there is. We can prove this in our own lives. The next time we feel upset or anxious, suspicious and distrustful, we can stop and ask ourselves—Where can I see something good at work in this situation? What might God be doing here? What is there to be grateful for, right now? Those simple questions can change the way we view what’s happening because they change what we’re looking for. We are no longer focusing on and feeling victimized by what’s wrong in our circumstances; instead, we’re looking back toward God’s holy mountain, watching for grace and blessing, trusting that it’s there, because that’s who God is. That’s a big step in the right direction. When we stop studying darkness and fear and doubt and instead look for God’s loving presence, right here, right now, our eyes will adjust and we’ll see God’s goodness everywhere.

The psalmist gets to that same conclusion himself. Speaking to his own soul, he writes,

Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.

This may feel difficult to do if we are going through a scary, painful, or difficult time in our lives. When we are grieving, dealing with a difficult diagnosis, it might be hard to see the good in something that feels so threatening and dark. I am certain that God understands these challenging blind spots and never loses faith in us, even when we temporarily lose touch with our faith in God. The answer in these times is not in our seeing but in our trust: Whatever comes, whatever the outward circumstances may be, and however we might feel about them, we can hold on to and study our trust, our reliance, our hope in God. We can count the ways God has always been with us. We can pray and invite God’s light to come and lead us back toward good. Our temporary blindness may be caused by pain and upset, giving us the feeling that God is far away, but God has never moved. God is right there loving us, pouring out the good, knowing that soon our hearts will recognize it once again.

Depending on where we are in life, we might wonder what kind of good we can still add to the world. Our doubts and fears will tell us we’re too old, too tired, too untalented, or too limited to contribute anything important. But those doubts and fears aren’t telling us the truth, and they shortchange both us and God, because “that of God” is within us to share goodness and love, kindness and mercy every day we live. We each have the capacity and the choice—as children made in God’s own image—to shine God’s good qualities wherever we go, whatever we do, whomever we meet. It’s light of Christ in us that does the work of blessing and healing, and we are blessed and uplifted to see it and know it to be true. If you doubt this, ask yourself: At what age does our light begin to dim? When is it okay to hide our light under a bushel? When doesn’t the world need all the love, kindness, hope, and gentleness it can get?

The light of love within us doesn’t dim or dull as we age; rather it shines brighter and reaches farther and intensifies as it recognizes the larger work of Love it serves. As we age, we learn how to let go of, or simply bypass, the things that caught us up before. We can let go of judgments and criticisms and suspicions that made us sharp and harsh and hard to know. We begin to see the bigger picture of God’s purpose in the world and understand that it flows on currents of kindness, ease, and peace. We yearn to be part of that flowing. The light shines brighter. We come to know God better. We trust the unfolding of the good—through us, among us, and for us all.

Our New Testament reading today is a short passage from the writings of Paul. He is offering a bit of wisdom to the young church in Philippi, encouraging them to be students of goodness, staying focused on the qualities of God they experience in community:

“Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.”

Cleary and specifically, Paul suggests that we fill our minds with the good qualities of God that are given us to shine into our world. These include

  • Truth
  • Integrity
  • Right order
  • Purity
  • Loveliness
  • Respect
  • Excellence
  • Goodness

When we are students of truth, we notice and care about truth in our own lives and in our world. We watch for it. We consider it. We speak up for it. We get out our notebooks and look for ways to nurture it and feed it well and create conditions in which it will flourish. When we are students of integrity, we are willing to learn where in our own hearts we need to change and grow, and we resolve to let Spirit help us make those changes so we can be more loving and peaceful sharers of God’s light. As students of right order and purity, we watch for God’s harmonious and loving spirit at work in our circumstances and in our hearts. As students of respect, we work whole-heartedly to recognize “that of God in everyone,” not preserving our good wishes for some but not for others. We do our best to see God’s qualities in one another: truth, integrity, right order, purity, loveliness, respect, excellence, and goodness. Can we see those qualities in our neighbor? Where is God showing up?

Studying anything—in particular the interests and activities God places in our hearts—can lead us toward the pursuit of excellence, the reaching for something good. As we align with and live more in tune with those qualities of goodness, we begin to see the result. Things start to make more sense. We experience peace. Our hearts are lifted. We feel God working. Life affirms our choices. We sense we are on the right track. The one taking us back toward God’s holy mountain.

In closing, I offer a wonderful and well-known poem from a master student of the goodness of life, Mary Oliver. It’s called, “The Summer Day.”

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean—
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down—
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

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I'm a hospice chaplain, Quaker pastor, bereavement coordinator, adjunct seminary professor, editor, writer, mom, and nana. I lead groups and workshops on mindfulness at the hospital and am the pastor of Noblesville First Friends. For Moving toward Joy: I'm also a grieving daughter and know grief from the clinical side as well as the inner, heartbreaking side. I do know that grief is a force, an energy, a momentum that must be lived and honored, and eventually it resolves into something soft and peaceful and even beautiful, if bittersweet. But we need lots of support, patience, and gentleness as we go through the allowing grief requires. That's the why behind this blog. I hope it offers you a soft place to fall when your heart is hurting.