Metropolitan Community Church Key West: August 13, 2006

Sweating the Small Stuff

Presented by Michael Kilgore

First of all I’d like to thank Ted & Sheri of the Worship Committee (who BTW are doing a terrific job keeping us going through this transition) for inviting me to speak today. And, I’d like to thank each one of you for being here as I share a bit of my spiritual journey with you.

It’s been a while since I’ve had this many people listening to anything I might have on my mind – the last was when I gave up my editorial seat to Nathan over a year and a half ago. And, I think, at least this many people read Celebrate!

Seriously though. I’m among the least qualified people here to be giving a talk from this pulpit. As you all know there are several people in this sanctuary who are distinguished Bible scholars and pastors so if I tried to come up with some extraordinarily original interpretation of a passage, I’d be skewered forthwith and we’d probably see the altar put back into some pre-Christian use.

So I won’t attempt any scriptural fancy forensics.

I’ve entitled today’s talk “Sweating the Small Stuff” – partially because over the course of the past two weeks I’ve written and rewritten it at least four times – and sweat more than a little bit. Partially, because I’ve lived by and large by the phrase “Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff,” which I’ve taken to mean “focus on the big picture” – and the rest will take care of itself. But, more importantly, because I think it’s something that Jesus in today’s reading from the Sermon on the Mount is suggesting we need to do when he says “strive first for the kingdom of God.”

I think for us to answer Jesus’ call from the Mount, we need to learn a certain discipline – the discipline of being present to God’s presence in our lives. We need to learn three things to fulfill this call: leave the past to God’s mercy. Leave the future to God’s discretion. And understand this moment is all there is.

We are like the character in the movie Postcards from the Edge who sends a card home from vacation, “Having a wonderful time. Wish I were here.”

Whether it’s today’s latest and greatest psychology best sellers such as Steven Hayes “Get Out of Your Mind and Into Your Life” (highly recommended BTW) or sages through the ages, the same message keeps getting repeated – yet we never seem to really hear it.

“Now or never! You must live in the present, launch yourself on every wave, find eternity in the moment,” urged Henry David Thoreau, the nineteenth-century American philosopher.

The Sufi mystic Rumi says, “Stay here, quivering with each moment like a drop of mercury.”

My classmate in grad school at the University of Chicago Mihaly Cziscentmihaly became rich and famous by writing the book “Flow” in which he describes a condition of effortless effort experienced by top athletes, extraordinary musicians and others who are considered top in their field: a complete attention to the present when everything is effortless, fluid and free.

Episcopal priest Robert Farrar Capon warns,” We spend a long time wishing we were elsewhere and otherwise.”

Buddhist teacher Jack Kornfield comments, “The quality of presence determines the quality of life.”

We devote so much of our energy trying to avoid being present. Perhaps it would be better to follow the example of Teresa of Avila, a sixteenth-century Carmelite mystic. She told the nuns of her convent that if she began to levitate during Mass, they should simply grab hold of her so she wouldn’t fly off.

Equally disheartening are our attempts to label certain activities as worthless. Jungian therapist Helen Luke delineates this problem: “We hurry through the so-called boring things in order to attend to that which we deem more important – or, interesting. Perhaps the final freedom will be a recognition that every thing in every moment is ‘essential’ and that nothing at all is ‘important.’”

Or as Leonard Cohen rhymed in Stranger Music:

Ring the bells that still can ring,

Forget your perfect offering.

There is a crack in everything.

That’s how the light gets in.

So how do we arrive? How do we find that light? How do we get to where we “are in the moment” or as it’s frequently summed up “Let go and let God?” Easy to say, and difficult to do.

Our expectations and worries about who, what, when where, and especially how, become the chains that bind us as the first reading from the Dhammapada reminds us.

We are what we think,

having become what we thought.

Like the wheel that follows the cart-pulling ox,

Sorrow follows an evil thought.

It’s these thoughts – our resentments from the past – our worries of the future that restrain us from being our authentic selves. Or, as the great swamp philosopher Walt Kelley’s Pogo declared, “We have met the enemy, and they is us.”

Today’s gospel reading from Matthew gives us some guidance on this issue when Jesus asks “And can any one of you by worrying add a single hour to your span of life?”

We hear these words and say “yes, yes” then still find ourselves stuck in our regrets and worries.

Our heads get the “what” of the message; “strive first for the kingdom of God & his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.”  Yet most of us – and I certainly include myself in this since I struggle with this daily – can’t quite get our hearts around the “how” of “strive first.”

Intent alone doesn’t cut it. I’m forgetting which nineteenth century philosopher said it, but I think we’ve all heard the phrase “the road to Hell is paved with good intentions” or its corollary “the Devil is in the details.” So when Jesus said “strive” or “seek” as the King James version puts it, he clearly meant that some effort is required on our part. I think he’s telling us – at least on one level – that we need to sweat the small stuff.

Being in the present simply “is” but getting to the point where we can “be” sometimes (frequently?) takes some effort.

What would that effort look like? What is this “letting go” all about?

Almost all of us have heard, if not read, Stephen Covey’s book “The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People.” I think another book could be written, if it hasn’t already, called the “The Seven Habits of Highly Ineffective People.”

And I think its chapter headings might run something like the following --- perhaps giving us a clue why we frequently don’t even get to first base in Jesus’ simple direction “strive first for the kingdom of God & his righteousness.”

Chapter 1 – It’s natural to worry

Chapter 2 – Failure to worry is risky, if not downright dangerous

Chapter 3 – Worries are a kind of intuition

Chapter 4 – There is a time and place to worry

Chapter 5 – Worrying is a sign of intelligence

Chapter 6 – Worrying is a sign of compassion

and, of course, the biggie

Chapter 7 – If things are going well, you better start worrying.

Let’s look at each of these briefly – then see if there’s anything practical that we can do to let go of our worries long enough to open ourselves to the presence of our Creator.

Chapter 1: “It’s natural to worry.”

• Rousseau may have done us all a disservice when he equated the “natural” state with the “good.” Even today we successfully sell products calling them “natural.” So, okay, worrying is natural in the sense that it’s universal. But so are tooth decay, mosquitos, bad colds, jealousy, hiccoughs, losing one’s train of thought, forgetting names and lecturing teenagers. Very few of would agree that these things, while natural, really are beneficial.
• Worrying fragments the mind, shatters focus, distorts perspective and destroys inner peace. It’s a type of self-afflicted distress, brought about by what we think could happen rather than paying attention to what is happening. It’s basically mental “junk” that gets in the way of authentic living.

Chapter 2: “Failure to worry is risky, if not dangerous.”

• There’s a general assumption that if you are a “happy camper” focused on today rather than tomorrow, “the other shoe will drop.” How many of us remember the childhood story of the silly grasshopper who plays and the industrious ant who worked all summer collecting food for the winter (who then had the self-righteous pleasure of refusing to help the starving grasshopper)? Boy, this was an especially scary one for me.
• Most parents, in fact, aggressively teach their children that they should and “must” worry – about how much or little they eat, about catching an endless list of diseases, about even their own common sense. (“I can’t let you out of my sight.” “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” “certain people – watch out”  or that all-pervasive “Are you sure?”
• Are you sure that’s the shirt you really want, the other will last longer?
• Are you sure you don’t have to study for that exam?
• Are you sure he’s the right boy for you? After all, you won’t have your looks forever.
• Or, in my case, are you sure you want to go into music, after all nobody can make a living that way?

In the most subtle ways, we’ve each been taught daily not to trust ourselves – to worry about the risks inherent in our decisions. The questions we ask more often than not, foster anxiety rather than authentic action.

• Better watch out. Go slow. Watch your back.
• Know who your friends are.
• Look ahead, or my personal favorite “think twice.”

All these messages contain one underlying theme – we are more alert and better armed when we are anxious.

I think what Jesus was telling us in the words found in Matthew is just the opposite – worry prevents us from even seeking the kingdom of heaven. It just stops us cold.

The opposite of a worried mind is not a foolish mind (as Chapter 2 asserts) but a still mind – one that sees clearly. Without internal distractions, one can assess the environment more quickly and accurately than a mind bound by anxiety or caught up in pre-conceptions.

Chapter 3: Worries are a kind of intuition.

Obviously, an anxious driver will drive more safely than a depressed or careless driver. But simply because under some circumstances one kind of mental junk compares favorably to another – doesn’t mean that both are not junk. A driver with a bad cold is likely to drive better than a person with advanced pneumonia; yet in either case there are better – healthy – physical states to be in when you’re driving.  The same is true of our spiritual state.

Chapter 4: There is a time and place to worry.

Perhaps if we worried a “little bit” we wouldn’t have to worry “a lot.” We could prevent emergencies or foresee potential dangers. Yet the thought that there might be some “appropriate amount” of worrying is just something else to worry about. The fact is --- worry begets worry. Neither its timing or degree can be controlled; nor can its effects be foreseen. Worries are simply distractions that keep us away from paying attention to what’s really important right here and now.

Chapter 5: Worrying is a sign of intelligence

In our culture a person free of worry is frequently considered naïve. We think of cynicism as an indicator of intelligence and practicality. Since – ultimately – disaster will overtake us all, the cynic views peace of mind as an unrealistic, even dishonest emotion. After all, it’s a dog eat dog world. The strong prey on the weak and everything lives off the death of something else.

Our media are geared around worry – point of illustration – how about the most recent foiled plot in London? The real cynic in me thinks the plot is as likely to have been underwritten by the bottled water industry as Al Quaeda as I watch people being forced to dump their drinks in airports across the country. But I digress.

The point is that news magazines and television programs have mass appeal because the viewer can count on a steady diet of things to worry about – most of which bears no relevance to the reality or quality of our day-to-day lives.

As Larry King intones repeatedly the question “How safe are we?” dangers are revealed in places we never suspected. We become addicted to our worries, or as my friend Jason Rowan pronounced last summer during our rash of storms: “the cone of anxiety” projected by the Weather Channel.

But we do have a choice. The Chinese philosopher Lao-tzu counsels, ”The Master gives himself up to whatever the moment brings.” The Hasidic teacher Rebbe Nachmanof of Breslov advises, “Each day has its own set of thoughts, words and deeds. Live in tune.”

We can either focus on the “now” as these teachers suggest – or the “inevitable” are our television pundits warn.

When we relax within the now, we begin opening other realities, other possibilities. Worry blocks awareness of the Divine because the Divine is now. God pronounced himself “I Am the Great I Am” not “I WILL Be the Great Maybe.”

I maintain that remaining unconscious of God in our lives is NOT particularly intelligent.

CHAPTER 6: Worrying is a sign of compassion.

How often do we hear – or speak ourselves – the well-intended phrase, “I’m worried for you.” Parents say it constantly. Or, as we counsel a troubled or sick friend, we’ve more likely than not uttered those words.

But notice how when you hear that phrase directed at you, you immediately feel cut off and separate. Individuals who worry are, at that moment, self-absorbed. The subject of the line may be someone else; but it doesn’t extend love to the other. “I’m worried for you” is a very egotistical statement since it presumes a better state, a set of expectations, which the speaker knows; but the receiver doesn’t.

Worry about others is a statement of fear about some future condition. And, as the scriptures repeatedly point out, love has no place for fear within it.

AND FINALLY,

Chapter 7: If things are going well, you better start worrying.

In just about every movie we go to, if things are going well in the first scene, then we can be assured that something evil is lurking just around the corner. Into every life a little sunshine must fall – but not for long.

For a lot of us the very fact that things start going well spurs us to start thinking, what could happen next? We even use the phrase, be careful what you pray for – you just might get it.

Rather than simply acknowledging as Jesus taught “today’s trouble is enough for today” and facing our current dangers with clear focus, instead we stand trance-like thinking of possible threats.

SO, how do we “let go and let God?”

The first step is understanding that worry is like an addiction – and like the addict we have to acknowledge that we have been conditioned from our earliest days to believe that worry is a good thing.

Next, we need to re-program ourselves to hear Jesus’ call from the Mount “Seek ye first the kingdom of God” and know that we are better off without these worries. As the Psalmist writes “Be still and know that I am God.”

And finally, it’s about that “striving” part – disciplining ourselves to be in the present rather than the future. All forms of fear are lodged in the future.

Now, as I pointed out at the beginning of this talk this is an issue I struggle with daily. I don’t pretend to have found my perfect path – but I think I know where it starts. While  I don’t have all the answers, I can share with you a little exercise that Hugh Prather in his book entitled “The Little Book of Letting Go” suggests.

Like Joan Higgs, I’m giving you a little gift for the week.

Take the exercise home that I’m giving you now. (Hand out “Worry Worksheet.”) Or just get a little notebook or tab of paper this week and

__ From the time you awake to the time you get ready for bed one day, write down any fear that crosses your mind. Include everything – every worry, vague apprehension, nagging suspicion, great expectation, or catastrophic thought that you notice.

__ Before you fall asleep, mark those fears you most strongly believe will come true. Or, if you prefer, rate them on a scale of one to ten – ten being, it’s going to happen with absolute certainty. In other words, single out the fears you think are intuitive (remember Chapter 3) or predictive. In this same category of “10s” note those which are self-fulfilling because of the intensity or frequency with which you think them: “We are what we think, having become what we thought.”

__ Post this list where you can check it privately from time to time – perhaps in your medicine cabinet, inside a closet door or a book that nobody picks up but you. In the weeks and months ahead, see for yourself if anything happens the way you imagined it would. Also, take note of all the events that conflict with what you feared – events that turn out the opposite of what you worried about.

__ When most or all of your fears have had sufficient time to occur, fold the list and put it in your purse or wallet. This will be your new identity card. You are now a person who is not afraid of the “what ifs” of life. You’re simply as Jesus suggested “sweating the small stuff” -- acknowledging today’s trouble is enough for today.

By the way, should you choose, not to even try this exercise even once, you MUST renounce forever, your right to worry out loud.

Pledge yourself to the moment and let it teach you. Surrender yourself to the moment and let it preach you.

My prayer for myself and for each of us is to learn now to stay in the moment. That is where we find the Divine  – as close as our breath.

And so it is. May God bless us each and every one.

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