"No one can experience depth without stopping and becoming aware of himself. Only if he has moments in which he does not care about what comes next can he experience the meaning of this moment here and now and ask himself about the meaning of his life."   (Paul Tillich, "The Lost Dimensions of Religion,"  Saturday Evening Post, 1958)

       I'm on a diet again. I know, most everyone thinks I'm a naturally slim person. However, my genes lean the other way and I add pounds at the drop of resolve. My confession is that my concern tends to be cosmetics more than health. So I re-read nutrition books and look honestly at what I've been eating lately and see that I've eaten too many of those foods that turn to sugar and then fat. I also note that sugar in the American diet is killing us, contributing to diseases we most fear, and shortening our lives. So I'm going through a process I've gone through before, drastic reduction of sugar-producing elements in my diet. After all, I not only want to look fit; I'd like to live a good long life. I'm looking ahead, caring about what comes next.

       While waiting for my diet results to kick in I've been reading some mind-expanding books. Just because your body is on a diet doesn't mean your mind can't be expanded. Two of the books are Sagan's "The Demon-Haunted World," and Ferris', "The Whole Shebang." While I talk in terms of lasting the century, these guys are talking about billions of years. They discuss whether our expanding universe (among the universes) will eventually contract and disappear. Eventually in their terms is a time I can't fathom. They spend careers wondering what comes next.

       It's a human thing to do. I suppose it's necessary. We seem to thrive on anticipation, on the need to be somewhere else soon. When in structured ministry I lived by the calendar. In a recent dumping frenzy I stopped to look through some of those old date books. The little squares were so full I could hardly read them. How could I put so many things in an hour or even a day? I remember always being worried that I might forget something that was coming next.

       As an aside, let me say that people outside the ministry have no clue about what a minister does. That's true of most jobs in which details are not known. I suspect that most are like I was. Although I tried to make it seem like I had lots of time (in order not to deter those who might want my help) I was always just one stick short of a logjam.

       That's my confession. What's yours?

       When I broke free of structured ministry I thought I would take a different approach. I would do my life with less intention. I described myself as entering a "non-intentional ministry." I would try to keep myself as open as possible to whatever comes next. Getting out of the committee business proved a great help in keeping myself free for "whatever comes next."

       Actually, that's the way it usually works anyway. No matter what you plan, something always comes up. (As we speak, Jean broke into my "in the moment" thinking and said, "The dryer just quit!") For 20 years I have kept a bare-minimum calendar and schedule. And it seems to me my days have been full and that when I look back I can see a wake—evidence I've been moving.

       But back to that quote at the beginning, from Paul Tillich. He's not talking about scheduling our days. He's talking about experiencing life in depth at the moment. On our trip through life we are more like skipping stones, only touching now and then. We only meet ourselves and the depth of which we are a part when we empty ourselves of care about what comes next. Some practice taking a time each day for some quiet and internal reflection. Some meditate. Some sit and sip coffee. It takes discipline to keep the mind from running off like rabbits in restless urgency to get on with it.

       So, the memory verse for today, when you get time to give attention to it is Tillich's. Let me de-genderize Tillich so you won't get hung up and miss his message:

"Only if we have moments in we do not care about what comes next can we experience the meaning of this moment here and now and ask ourselves about the meaning or our life."

       For the Moment…