Dear Readers,
Posting to my blog site has become more difficult. It's harder to sit up at my computer with the collapsing of my stomach muscles, and loss of finger strength is making keyboarding much more difficult. I'm trying my best to find workarounds for these barriers and ask for your prayers that I will find the right tools to continue this blog. My computer and mobile devices are the only voices I have left, and I very much desire to stay connected to you. I see many of you at church and on other occasions and miss so much the ability to respond to your kind words and questions.
Peace,
David
Sunday, October 30, 2016
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
Cognitive Dissonance
Perhaps, like many of you, I've held tightly to my beliefs and opinions, only to be confronted by entirely different viewpoints that seemed to make equal sense. Invariably, this state of affairs has made me uneasy, and in my pursuit of intellectual honesty, I've gotten myself "wrapped around the axle" more often than I can count.
Psychologists have coined a term for this experience. They call it cognitive dissonance and describe it (at least according to Wikipedia) as the mental stress or discomfort experienced by an individual who holds two or more contradictory beliefs, ideas, or values at the same time; performs an action that is contradictory to one or more beliefs, ideas, or values; or is confronted by new information that conflicts with existing beliefs, ideas, or values. Not too many years ago, this unsettling experience went by a term that was generally and instinctively understood, but now has fallen into general disuse – the word, conscience.
My own cognitive dissonance has been especially acute in the realm of politics. But honoring my pledge not to wade into political waters on my blog, I'll talk about another example - the cognitive dissonance that comes with racism. As a child, I grew up respecting my parents and, by extension, all adult authority. As such, adults in charge could do no wrong. But that view was first seriously challenged when I was nine years old. As my parents and I were driving to New Orleans, where my dad would be attending a convention, we made a gasoline and restroom stop somewhere in East Texas. Stepping out of the car, I immediately headed for the restroom, which was marked ""Whites Only". There was no other restroom for men. The first thing that popped out of my mouth was "Dad, where do boys that aren't white go?" The answer was buried in his silence, and I was instantly both angered, confused, and profoundly disappointed by how adults could be so unfair. The side-by-side "Whites Only" and "Colored Only" drinking fountains didn't help matters. Later in life I became fascinated with everything connected with the American Civil War, primarily because of the national cognitive dissonance created by the coexistence of the institution of slavery and the concept of all men being created equal.
I've always been a person who tries to get along and not make waves. I've craved acceptance by every group I've been a part of. But the inevitable result has been almost unbearable cognitive dissonance. The answer I found is not in a set of rules, a code of ethics, a personal agenda, or a party platform, but in the person of Christ. Just like he did when he encountered people over 2,000 years ago, he continues to challenge me to peel the onion and find the core motivation for every opinion I hold about every subject that really matters. Only then am I able to know whether my opinion is based on selfishness or loving concern for others. And only then am I able to hold my opinion confidently and boldly state it without cognitive dissonance.
Psychologists have coined a term for this experience. They call it cognitive dissonance and describe it (at least according to Wikipedia) as the mental stress or discomfort experienced by an individual who holds two or more contradictory beliefs, ideas, or values at the same time; performs an action that is contradictory to one or more beliefs, ideas, or values; or is confronted by new information that conflicts with existing beliefs, ideas, or values. Not too many years ago, this unsettling experience went by a term that was generally and instinctively understood, but now has fallen into general disuse – the word, conscience.
My own cognitive dissonance has been especially acute in the realm of politics. But honoring my pledge not to wade into political waters on my blog, I'll talk about another example - the cognitive dissonance that comes with racism. As a child, I grew up respecting my parents and, by extension, all adult authority. As such, adults in charge could do no wrong. But that view was first seriously challenged when I was nine years old. As my parents and I were driving to New Orleans, where my dad would be attending a convention, we made a gasoline and restroom stop somewhere in East Texas. Stepping out of the car, I immediately headed for the restroom, which was marked ""Whites Only". There was no other restroom for men. The first thing that popped out of my mouth was "Dad, where do boys that aren't white go?" The answer was buried in his silence, and I was instantly both angered, confused, and profoundly disappointed by how adults could be so unfair. The side-by-side "Whites Only" and "Colored Only" drinking fountains didn't help matters. Later in life I became fascinated with everything connected with the American Civil War, primarily because of the national cognitive dissonance created by the coexistence of the institution of slavery and the concept of all men being created equal.
I've always been a person who tries to get along and not make waves. I've craved acceptance by every group I've been a part of. But the inevitable result has been almost unbearable cognitive dissonance. The answer I found is not in a set of rules, a code of ethics, a personal agenda, or a party platform, but in the person of Christ. Just like he did when he encountered people over 2,000 years ago, he continues to challenge me to peel the onion and find the core motivation for every opinion I hold about every subject that really matters. Only then am I able to know whether my opinion is based on selfishness or loving concern for others. And only then am I able to hold my opinion confidently and boldly state it without cognitive dissonance.
Monday, October 3, 2016
Common Grace
I often flounder when I try to use
"religious" language, as I'm attempting to do now. The words of religion are
understood to have very specific meanings by those who make it their life’s
work to study God. These words serve as convenient shorthand for complex
concepts, much like the vocabularies of doctors, lawyers, and scientists.
Grace is one of those religious words that can seem to mean different things, in different contexts, to different people. Often referred to as "God's unmerited favor", the word grace is used hundreds of times in the Bible.
For most of my life, the concept of grace has been more a comforting abstraction than a living reality. I've had flashes of what it means, especially when my life was in turmoil, but once the crises passed, my epiphanies followed suit. Now that I'm in the middle of a new crisis, I'm again confronted by God's grace head on.
Ever since reading the book, Tuesdays with Morrie, I can't get Morrie's words out of my mind: "Most of us walk around as if we're sleepwalking. We really don't experience the world fully because we're half asleep, doing things we automatically think we have to do... Learn how to die, and you learn how to live." Now that I know that I'm dying at a faster clip, I'm deliberately trying to wake up to everything around me. And, in so doing, I'm becoming more aware of how God is working for good in and through the world. Some people call this "common grace", and I'll adopt this term as my shorthand for a presence that defies attempts to define it, a presence that must be experienced to be understood, a presence that is nothing short of transcendent.
In recent months I've begun to wake up and see God's common grace more clearly. It suffuses his creation and is planted in the hearts of all he made in his own image. I find it everywhere, inhabiting every corner of my world. It’s evident in the countless acts of kindness by people I'm closest to and by people I've never even met, by people who share my faith and by people who don't. And startlingly, it's evident in the lives of people I mistreated years ago who, nonetheless, love and support me. It's manifest in unceasing prayers and acts of encouragement to me and my wife; in unfailing accommodation by everyone to my physical limitations; in strong backs and skillful fingers helping me complete the "honey dos" that honey can no longer do; and in the requests for my help in a variety of ways, restoring to me a sense of accomplishment and making it possible to return grace to others.
I'd be lying if I said ALS hasn't tested my faith. Some days I feel like I'm holding on by only the thinnest of threads. But the grace I experience works on my heart. It reveals a loving creator who gave me a way to both recognize and experience his presence. And that makes me hold on.
Grace is one of those religious words that can seem to mean different things, in different contexts, to different people. Often referred to as "God's unmerited favor", the word grace is used hundreds of times in the Bible.
For most of my life, the concept of grace has been more a comforting abstraction than a living reality. I've had flashes of what it means, especially when my life was in turmoil, but once the crises passed, my epiphanies followed suit. Now that I'm in the middle of a new crisis, I'm again confronted by God's grace head on.
Ever since reading the book, Tuesdays with Morrie, I can't get Morrie's words out of my mind: "Most of us walk around as if we're sleepwalking. We really don't experience the world fully because we're half asleep, doing things we automatically think we have to do... Learn how to die, and you learn how to live." Now that I know that I'm dying at a faster clip, I'm deliberately trying to wake up to everything around me. And, in so doing, I'm becoming more aware of how God is working for good in and through the world. Some people call this "common grace", and I'll adopt this term as my shorthand for a presence that defies attempts to define it, a presence that must be experienced to be understood, a presence that is nothing short of transcendent.
In recent months I've begun to wake up and see God's common grace more clearly. It suffuses his creation and is planted in the hearts of all he made in his own image. I find it everywhere, inhabiting every corner of my world. It’s evident in the countless acts of kindness by people I'm closest to and by people I've never even met, by people who share my faith and by people who don't. And startlingly, it's evident in the lives of people I mistreated years ago who, nonetheless, love and support me. It's manifest in unceasing prayers and acts of encouragement to me and my wife; in unfailing accommodation by everyone to my physical limitations; in strong backs and skillful fingers helping me complete the "honey dos" that honey can no longer do; and in the requests for my help in a variety of ways, restoring to me a sense of accomplishment and making it possible to return grace to others.
I'd be lying if I said ALS hasn't tested my faith. Some days I feel like I'm holding on by only the thinnest of threads. But the grace I experience works on my heart. It reveals a loving creator who gave me a way to both recognize and experience his presence. And that makes me hold on.
Sunday, October 2, 2016
The Opposible Thumb or Don't Listen to Your Dentist
By their first birthday most babies have taken their first steps and spoken a few words. But even earlier - at about four months - they begin to perfect one of the first skills involving coordination of their voluntary muscles - the ability to grasp. Grasping is only possible because we have opposable thumbs - so called because of their positioning opposite and slightly below the plane of our fingers. Opposable thumbs allow us to encircle, lift, and manipulate objects with our hands. We take a lot for granted about our anatomy and the ability to grasp is one of them.
In the manifestation of ALS in my life, the atrophy of muscles in my hands has distorted my thumbs. They no longer look or act like opposable thumbs. When I press my palms and fingers flat on a table, my thumbs stick up in the air.
I first became aware of problems with my thumbs about eight months before I was diagnosed with ALS. On what passes in Austin for a cold winter day, I attempted to repair the gate of my fence and was unable to hold the wood screw in my left hand as I operated the screwdriver with my right. I wrote the whole thing off to the cold and poor circulation. But my thumb muscles continued to deteriorate, and I can no longer manage buttons and zippers, pick up small objects, and effectively turn pages in a book. When I took a typing course in the eight grade I was able to type 80 words per minute with no errors on an old Royal manual typewriter. Now, my hands and fingers are so distorted that I have neither the strength nor the dexterity to keyboard the old way. For someone who has to use a keyboard in lieu of a voice to communicate this is a big deal.
Fortunately, I'm learning how to adapt. I dress in clothes with no zippers and buttons but lots of elastic, I use a stiff card to scoop up things I've dropped on the floor, I've switched from flipping pages to reading e-books on my IPad, and I've developed a modified touch typing/single finger typing system.
And, to the chagrin of my dentist, I now use my teeth to do a lot of things I used to do with my hands. Strong jaws and sharp teeth can do quite a number on shrink wrap!
My neurologist says my body is going to wear out a lot faster than my teeth. So, with all due respect to my dentist, get over it! If dogs are allowed to use their teeth to grab things, so can I.
In the manifestation of ALS in my life, the atrophy of muscles in my hands has distorted my thumbs. They no longer look or act like opposable thumbs. When I press my palms and fingers flat on a table, my thumbs stick up in the air.
I first became aware of problems with my thumbs about eight months before I was diagnosed with ALS. On what passes in Austin for a cold winter day, I attempted to repair the gate of my fence and was unable to hold the wood screw in my left hand as I operated the screwdriver with my right. I wrote the whole thing off to the cold and poor circulation. But my thumb muscles continued to deteriorate, and I can no longer manage buttons and zippers, pick up small objects, and effectively turn pages in a book. When I took a typing course in the eight grade I was able to type 80 words per minute with no errors on an old Royal manual typewriter. Now, my hands and fingers are so distorted that I have neither the strength nor the dexterity to keyboard the old way. For someone who has to use a keyboard in lieu of a voice to communicate this is a big deal.
Fortunately, I'm learning how to adapt. I dress in clothes with no zippers and buttons but lots of elastic, I use a stiff card to scoop up things I've dropped on the floor, I've switched from flipping pages to reading e-books on my IPad, and I've developed a modified touch typing/single finger typing system.
And, to the chagrin of my dentist, I now use my teeth to do a lot of things I used to do with my hands. Strong jaws and sharp teeth can do quite a number on shrink wrap!
My neurologist says my body is going to wear out a lot faster than my teeth. So, with all due respect to my dentist, get over it! If dogs are allowed to use their teeth to grab things, so can I.
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