Off Road Reflections

Note: Friends often ask, “How’s your book coming?” “Slowly,” I answer. This musing will likely be part of the book’s “Afterword.”  Consider it a sneak preview of the last chapter!

I am old enough to know that in this life you see what you look for, and you get what you are open to receive. And you belong to those whose company you cherish, for they will cherish you.

- Robert Fulghum, What on Earth Have I Done

It’s been nearly four years since I set out in my RV to look for God in America. Not a day goes by without some visceral memory of that 53-week, 26,000-mile odyssey. On the surface, it looked and often felt like a slice out of time. But it’s actually a journey I began long ago and will continue the rest of my life.

A friend recently pressed me over dinner. “You had such freedom! Now you have to work, keep up a house, and deal with all sorts of mundane details again. Has it been hard to adjust?”

“No,” I replied. “I’m with my family. I have a meaningful job and sense of purpose. I try to maintain a freedom of spirit—which makes every day an adventure. That’s worth more than the relative absence of obligations I enjoyed on the road. And I learned a lot—which serves me well in this political climate.”

My days look much like they did before—with a few notable exceptions. The home into which I moved is far smaller than the one I left, and I share it full-time with Susanne, to whom I’m now engaged. But I’m again leading a not-for-profit serving kids and families. And I continue to savor all the time I have with my children, grandchildren, and friends.

*

The divine is not external and separate from us. It is within and all around us. We need to trust it and let it flow; we need to be the flute through which God’s breath blows.

- David Howitt, Heed Your Call

People wonder, “Did you find God?” I’ve offered various answers. One angle—God is either everywhere or nowhere. When we die, we’ll find out. Or not.

If God is everywhere, everything is sacred. If God is nowhere, why should we have any less reverence for each other and our world?

On a plane a few months after the trip, I was chatting with an older man named Fritz. He spoke of “marrying” his grandson—prompting me to ask if he was a minister.

“Retired,” he replied. “Lutheran. But most congregations wouldn’t want me as a member now, let alone a pastor.”

“Why?” I pressed.

“Once I was off the payroll, I began looking at things differently,” he admitted. “Rather than ending sentences with the exclamation marks Luther suggested, I started asking questions. That’s not what most people want from their minister.”

As we parted, Fritz handed me his business card. On the back was this: It is better to travel expectantly than to arrive.

 I like to think I travel more expectantly these days.

*

 We all walk around within the numbness of our habits and routines so often that we take the marvels of ordinary life for granted…. Being human, we are unable to sustain the clarity necessary to apprehend the magic inherent in everything.

- Mark Nepo, The Book of Awakening

We’re always moving. But we don’t stay anywhere long. Before we can fully appreciate one place, we’re off somewhere else. Which makes how we travel important.

Something I learned: When you journey with open mind, an open heart, and an open spirit, extraordinary things occur. The Divine is evident everywhere.

It’s not so much about finding God as it is about embracing the beauty and possibility everywhere. When I’m open and aware, I can’t help but experience the Divine. When I’m not, I don’t.

*

To each of us you reveal yourself differently.

- Rainer Maria Rilke, Book of Hours

People will never see eye to eye about God. While some prefer (and many insist upon) a neatly packaged version of the Almighty, I find varied revelations far more compelling. But when it comes to what really matters, there’s nearly universal accord. Religious or not, young or old, rich or poor, people come to surprisingly similar conclusions: Family. Friends. Community. Relationships. And that common ground is worth celebrating.

Like Anne Frank, I remain convinced that people are basically good. And kind. And well meaning. Notwithstanding conspicuous examples to the contrary. Yes, evil exists. Bad stuff happens. But compassion and generosity are far more common. Which is probably why they get so little attention.

Despite our differences, we all long to love and be loved. And we share a burning desire for connection—with each other and with something greater than ourselves.

God—by whatever word one refers to an immanent and transcendent reality—is a visceral experience, not an intellectual one. The connection takes place in the heart, not the head. It’s highly personal. And it can’t be ordained or mediated by another.

No philosopher or theologian can prove that God is. Or that God isn’t. Arguing over the existence and nature of something that defies irrefutable knowing is inherently futile—a form of mental gymnastics, undertaken at considerable cost to our spirits (which don’t deserve the abuse).

Ultimately, inevitably, we’ll return to the place from which we came. In the meantime, I continue to find love to be the most persuasive evidence of Divinity. For if love is not God’s essence, what else would be worth our engagement?

*

My work is loving the world… Are my boots old? Is my coat torn? Let me keep my mind on what matters…which is mostly standing still and learning to be astonished.

- Mary Oliver, Messenger

When I asked a young man in Boston how he experiences God, he responded with his own rhetorical question: “I wonder how God experiences me?”

I recently had a dream. In it, I was back in the eighth grade—a pivotal and impressionable time. Though 13 again, I was aware of everything I’d learned in the ensuing 47 years. In other words, I “knew then what I know now.” And I was consumed by an understanding that I felt compelled to share with my classmates: All that matters is that we love the people who grace our lives.

When I woke, it dawned on me that the dream truly captured the essence of my trip. I do know now what I learned then. It’s all about love.

I’m not sure how God experiences me. But I could probably do a better job loving those whose paths cross mine. Surely, that would be a fitting tribute to my travels. And not a bad aim for the road ahead.