A concluding thought to my grandchildren and their children: Jesus spent time in silence, listening for the timeless word and putting it into action in his daily life. He chose not to start a new religion but to model a new way of living. It wasn't about a new organization but following him and his way of living. He dared to believe that there was an infinite intelligence that put the universe in motion and that man could become one with that intelligence. That caused trouble then; It causes trouble today. 

Why does Jesus start with the entrance? Because the entrance indicates my intentions, and for Jesus, intentions are everything. Intentions are the starting line for thoughts, ideas, actions, habits, and character. He would say, "What's in the heart that counts!” Here, they only come in two flavors: good and bad. Am I a good leader or a bad leader? 

To personalize it, let me stand with the Pharisees and hear the story through a parent's ears. (but I could substitute any leadership role.) Shepherd or Bandit? Am I a good parent or a bad parent? Jesus is asking me to question my intentions continually. Is my heart turned toward them or me?

The word judgment, translated into English, comes from the idea of smoke clearing away so that someone may see adequately and make an informed decision or opinion. 

One of the side effects of certainty, or being so sure that we are right, is twisting and turning things to make them fit into life as we have always known it. We view them through our filter and force-fit them into our template. Sometimes, they fit; sometimes, they don’t.

Contemplating that blank space between these two sentences causes the hot water of my imagination to reach the boiling point, and the questions pop up like bubbles in the steam. What happened between the end of chapter 8 and the beginning of chapter 9? Was it overnight? How many nights? Did he spend them alone, like he did before? Did he spend this time praying and meditating? My working theory: It was at least one night, and he was alone and spent it in prayer and meditation. 

I love watching Simone Biles stick the landing and the high jumpers and pole vaulters bounce off the mat and raise their arms after clearing the bar. I shout, "Yes!" as if I have done it myself.

It's time to go into the linchpin verses of John’s story (8:31-32), and I'm just not ready. These verses are as crucial as John 3:16, and I must be prepared. It seems like I've left something important in the previous segments and verses, and I need to find out what it is. Do you know that feeling you get on a trip and think you might've left something important at home? And you're just not satisfied until you sort through everything and know for sure.

Remember the scene in The Secret Life of Pets where Sweet Pea, the green and yellow parakeet, has Chloe, the self-absorbed fat cat, chasing the light from a laser pointer? Hold that thought.

There's a Mary Engelbreit cartoon that says, "Life is just so DAILY.” There are days, like today, I would rather do anything else than sit here writing. There are days when I skip meditation. Days when I'm not sure I understand anything about this at all.

This thought appeared while I was silently sitting statue-still and listening expectantly to the drip, drip, drip of that 2nd K-cup. What would it look like if I took a sheet of paper and a #2 pencil and drew a line representing my life? From a distance, it may appear straight and rising ever so slightly. You know, onward and upward. But from the inside and at close range, there would have to be those lifts and dips.

But why does John want me to hear this rallying cry? I can't unhear it. I can't unring the bell. Over and over, I hear, “Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.” What do I do with this internal rallying cry? Lao Tzu would respond, “At the center of your being, you have the answer; you know who you are and you know what you want.” Steve Jobs would say, “Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice.”

"We could never be friends," I thought as the guy walked by with profanity tattooed up his arm around his neck. "Who would do that?" I want to tell you that later, I got beyond these things, and we got to know each other and are now "best buds,” but that didn't happen. I wrote the man off without a second thought. Was this an isolated incident? Nah, I’m sure I've done the same thing in far less extreme situations.

We look for credentials and ask questions like, “Who was your teacher?" Or “Where did you go to school, and what degrees do you have?" We can expect the same reaction from others when we speak from our spiritual consciousness and beyond the borders of our education and their expectations. "Without the free flow of the Holy Spirit,” Richard Rohr says, “religion becomes a tribal sorting system, spending much time trying to define who's in, and who's out – who's right and who's wrong. And surprise, we're always on the side of the right! What are the odds?”

Have you ever had one of those moments where everything just clicks into place, and you feel completely in sync with the world around you? That happened to me recently, and I wanted to share some insights that came from both contemplation and a good swim.

“I have no idea what he just said!" I was between Birmingham and Atlanta, listening to Stephen Hawking's audiobook A Brief History of Time. I was interested in the concept of black holes, but after about an hour, I found myself saying, "I have no idea what he just said!" You guessed it. I switched to the radio and rode home to something with a pretty good beat.

I was raised playing American football and baseball. So, the first words out of my mouth when I saw rugby and cricket were, "What in the world are they doing?” I could not get my head around it. I even have trouble with "offsides" in soccer. In today’s segment, the same happens to Jesus' listeners, who are so entwined with their sense of physical reality that Jesus’ spiritual reality does not compute.

I spent five minutes searching for it while sitting in my chair and looking down at my feet. "There is no way that paper clip could've gotten away from here," I thought. Then, I rolled my chair back about 3 feet, looked from a different angle, and there it was, in plain sight. This experience is similar to my approach to John's story about Jesus. I've tried to zoom in, zoom out, and look at it from different angles. When I do, a new idea often appears - in plain sight.

I wanted to share two personal experiences before we delve back into John's Gospel. A friend who reads the blog recently commented on how the content has evolved. Initially, it focused more on grief, but now it is less about grief and more about life. She viewed this change as a sign of growth, and I agree.

No one does not belong at the table. As Harry Bosch says, “Everybody counts or nobody counts.” That’s not just my idea. It’s how God shows up in the universe. It's also how we work through our insecurities when someone or some situation pushes our "do not belong here" button. We choose to see ourselves as God sees us, as one who is welcome at the table. Not only that, we see everyone in the same light.

I must admit that there have been some confusing days when I write about peace and joy in the morning, but then I live anxiously through the remainder of the day - times when I “talk the talk” but don't “walk the walk.” However, isn't that a part of the growth process? For example, when it comes to weight training, you push your muscles to the point of exhaustion, allow them to rest, and then do it again. Failure is built into the process because you must push yourself to the point of failure each day to see incremental improvement over time. So, what appears to be hypocrisy to the rowdy spectator in the stands of my mind is improvement and transformation.