spirituality

When Billy Graham And C.S. Lewis Say Muslims Can Be Saved, Evangelicals Must Listen.

By in Politics, Religion, Spirituality Tags: , ,

Can Muslims know God? Can atheists? Jews? Are only “born again” Christians part of the Body of Christ?

Recently on Facebook, I got into this not so cozy little conversation on these questions. My view was met with intense resistance. By fellow Christians.

One guy called me a heretic.

But my view was not my own.

One’s religious views are shaped by others   — in my case, two men in the very best of the Evangelical Christian tradition, and a saintly Roman Catholic woman who gave her every fiber to welcoming outsiders in Jesus’ name.

So if you find my view controversial — the view that many can know God, even though they don’t identify as Christian — please understand that I didn’t invent it.

Dr. Billy Graham, one of the greatest Christian evangelists of our time, said this:

“I think everybody that that loves Christ, or knows Christ, whether they’re conscious of it or not, they’re members of the body of Christ. And that’s what God is doing today. He’s calling people for ‘eh, out of the world for his name whether they come from the Muslim world, or the Buddhist world, or the Christian world, or the non-believing world uh they are members of the body of Christ because they’ve been called by God. They may not even know the name of Jesus but uh they know in their hearts that they need something that they don’t have and they turn to the only light that they have. And I think that they are saved and they are going to be with us in heaven.”*

And Mother Teresa, this:

“There is only one God and He is God to all; therefore it is important that everyone is seen as equal before God. I’ve always said that we should help a Hindu become a better Hindu, a Muslim become a better Muslim, a Catholic become a better Catholic.”

C.S. Lewis’s held the same view. His articulation of it is far longer, more literary, and just beautiful. So I won’t be so vulgar as to copy and paste it here. But if you’d like, read about it here in chapter 15 of Lewis’s Narnia series, The Last Battle.

In my work with the Christian-Muslim Alliance, I am often invited to join Muslims for prayers. And when I’m there kneeling and standing and kneeling and standing — practicing their way of worship — I always feel peace. I always feel calm. I always feel a deep connection with fellow journeyers.

I always feel peace.

In fact, the more time I spend with Muslims, the more I realize how virtues like humility and wisdom and peace are universal forces of good — that they are present throughout the spectrum of world religions, and even amongst the non-religious.

Of course, the threat of radicalized groups like ISIS and Al Queda are real. Those groups destroy others because their “religion” is one that wants to eliminate any person or idea that doesn’t match their extreme and violent ideology. Most of those they murder are Muslims.

But like I said, the vast majority of Muslims are people of peace.

Some of you are reading this and might be thinking, Wow, Paul is really losing it.

That’s okay. I get that these views will confuse many, especially my Evangelical Christian friends. If they do confuse you, I’d like to ask you three questions.

First, why do they make you so uneasy?

Second, and respectfully, what do you know that Billy Graham, Mother Teresa, and C.S. Lewis don’t?

Finally, do you think God might just big enough to be okay with people knowing him, but not his exact name?

I’d love to hear your thoughts! You may email me at paul@christianmuslimalliance.com, or connect with me via social media.

 

*the video of Billy Graham’s statement can be watched here.

 

 

 

I’m Not Leaving America, No Matter What They Say.

By in Politics, Religion, Spirituality Tags: , , ,

 

 

I started The Christian Muslim Alliance earlier this year. Hate crimes were on the increase. Division was growing.

Something needed to be done.

The goal was never to claim that Islam and Christianity are the same. They are not the same. The FAQ section of our website asks, “Do we believe Christianity and Islam are the same?” We respond:

No. We do not believe in “Syncretism,” or a fusing together of different faith systems. Christianity and Islam, in short, are not the same.

Our goal was to help people understand the 1.6 billion Muslims in the world, overwhelmingly, are not violent. And given Jesus’ example of welcoming all people,  we believed that Christians, especially, should be the leaders in promoting the welcoming of others.

I always knew the world has its share of hateful people. We all know that. I can be hateful sometimes. But some take their hate to the extreme of physical violence, while others “just use words.”

Some haters claim to be Muslim, some claim to be Christian, some claim to be atheist.

But I never really expected what I’ve seen in the past few weeks. Again, the goal of The Alliance was never to merge Christianity with Islam. But with over 5,000 Muslims serving in the U.S. armed forces, and with over 3 million law-abiding Muslim Americans living here, it seemed to make sense to find ways to promote peace.

In any event, here are just a few of the comments I’ve received in the past week or so:

– “The only reason there should be a Christian Muslim alliance is to remove the Jew. And even then, I am skeptical of the Muslims.”

– “Get the f**k out of our country and live in Saudi Arabia.”

– “FILTHY MUSLIM VERMIN!!!”

– “F**k you piece of s**t Muslims.”

– Regarding American Muslim peace activist Laura Sarsour: “The cockroach i need so pest spray some of asad gas would work on her.”

– “You should go to Syria and hug it out with ISIS. It’s not like your head had anything in it worth keeping.”

– “#nomuslimever”

– “you can always leave america  – good riddance.”

I only cite these to share what many people think. This hatred is real. And we all need to find ways to combat hate because those views do not represent the heart and spirit of America.

I hope you are active in trying to find ways to promote peace, in your family, in your community, in the world.

If you want to help us, click here to take action.

When I Chose Jesus Over Therapy.

By in Relationships, Religion, Spirituality Tags: , , , ,

 

 

It’s not time. It’s not time for me to write the details of my own trauma — of the traumatic events of my past.

That time will come, but not now.

But as I continue my journey in life, in my faith, in my yoga and mindfulness practice, in the school of parenting, and in my closest relationships, I’ve become increasingly aware of the pervasive effects of my own traumatic experiences.

I’ve become aware of fear — recognizing how easy it is for me to flinch. Not literally flinch, but a flinch of the mind when I sense danger. I’ve come to recognize how, because of trauma, I live with a subconscious fear of “What’s next?”

Trauma altered the way my brain responds.

This is true for many of us.

Trauma, as Bessel van der Kolk writes, sticks around:

“We have learned that trauma is not just an event that took place sometime in the past; it is also the imprint left by that experience on mind, brain, and body. This imprint has ongoing consequences for how the human organism manages to survive in the present. Trauma results in a fundamental reorganization of the way mind and brain manage perceptions. It changes not only how we think and what we think about, but also our very capacity to think.”

In my twenties, I was dipping my toes into talk therapy. I was seeing a psychologist. I was at the tip of the trauma iceberg.

Then I went to a Christian conference. The pastor was an internationally known Christian leader. Highly charismatic. And he said these words:

“The highest and best use of your life is not ‘getting well’ — the highest and best use of your life is serving Jesus.”

Then he read a bunch of Bible verses about losing your life, taking up your cross, selling all you have.

Idealistic, ambitious, and untrained to recognize classic dualisms (either care for yourself or serve God was what the pastor was saying), I guess I had to make a choice.

I fired my therapist at the age of 24.

Then proceeded to go lose my life.

I soon learned that Jesus usually doesn’t miraculously heal trauma, any more than he miraculously heals cancer or asthma or a broken femur.

You’ve gotta go to the doctor. You’ve gotta take medicine. Do the physical therapy.

I don’t beat myself today up for choosing Jesus over therapy as a young and idealist twentysomething. It’s hard to do the hard work of self-care when you’re a man in his mid-twenties

So few in their 20’s get on the road less traveled.

Young men and women, many who are victims of trauma, “press ahead” with all the new experiences of life. And we all love new: new diplomas, new romances, new careers, new marriages, new homes, new babies.

It’s all wonderful. Nothing wrong with it.

But it is a distraction to the work of therapy.

And, anyway, why get bogged down in “getting well”?

But the wheels, later down the road, can start to wobble. Mine did. All the newness of everything wears off. Kids get older. Money gets boring.

Familiarity can breed contempt.

The bigger house still isn’t as big as those other bigger houses.

And there are new setbacks. I wrote about two of mine  HERE.

Like Solomon, many end up asking themselves, “What’s the meaning of all this?”

And even with the joys and victories and successes, for many sufferers of trauma, something has affected us at — physically — our core. In places neuroscientists refer to as the reptilian and the limbic brain.

Bottom line is that tragic stuff has happened to all of us.

And if it happened to us, it happened to our brains.

I think of physical things. Like a motor of a car. Putting the car into first gear. Pressing the gas. The motor is fine until the RPM’s are too high. You can hear it. You need to shift to second gear to relieve the stress, the physical stress, on the gears.

That’s trauma. Physical stress on the actual brain. It’s PTSD. Holocaust survivors have the most gripping stories. So do soldiers who saw battle.

 

My goal in the months and years ahead is to swim deeper into the waters of self-awareness — live the examined life that Socrates speaks of.

Not sure there’s another way to truly live.

 

___________________________________________

A note on “Freewriting.”

Every Friday, I set my timer on my iPhone for 15 or 20 minutes. Then I start writing. I don’t stop. I write whatever pops into my mind. After 15 minutes, I go back and quickly correct all the blatant typos. Then I publish it on Paulosophia.

I started “freewriting” in the early 1990’s because I had read this short article called “Freewriting.” I was a horrible writer back then, with the most severe writers’ block. The article said you have to write WITHOUT STOPPING. For a fixed period of time. Even if you have to write the same word over and over again. Over time, you get better, and more confident.

Writing becomes as easy as talking.

I can’t count how many freewriting exercises I’ve done over the years. Thousands for sure. I still do them almost daily. My kids know them well. I hope you will, too.

 

Today’s First World Problem: The Big, Older, Hairy Man.

By in Spirituality Tags: ,

 

It seemed like it was to be the perfect class. Nicole was teaching. Saturday morning at 10. I had had a nice cappuccino with Gina at Kit.

There was a younger guy to my left. He was about three feet away. There was a lady to my right, about five feet away.

Then literally a minute before class was to start, a big, older, hairy man stumbles in and plants himself between me and the lady to my right.

His mat was less than a foot from mine.

I know I wouldn’t have minded if it was a small, younger, non-hairy woman. But, like I said, it was a big, older, hairy man.

Class starts and I can’t believe it that Nicole stated it to Carry That Weight by The Beatles. Never have I had a class start with The Beatles.

Then after Carry That Weight it was Sounds of Silence by Simon and Garfunkle. Then it was Baby I’m Amazed by Paul and Imagine by John and Satisfaction.

And I can’t believe this playlist. My kind of music.

But the guy next to me. The big, older, hairy man. I couldn’t shake him.

He hummed. And grunted.

Nobody ever hums during yoga. Never had it happen before. Occasionally you hear men grunting. Not often, but you hear it from new guys trying to do more than they can.

But this guy’s a foot away. Grunting and humming.

And I’ve written before about yoga — about how half of the goal is to let go of things: your worries, comparing yourself to others, judging yourself, judging others.

Well, during Trikanasana, When I’m Sixty-Four comes on. And the guy starts singing.

Singing.

Nicole is at the other end of the room. And I’m not sure if she would have told him to stop. But she couldn’t hear him. He was singing just loud enough for me to hear.

And he was getting the lyrics wrong.

It’s one thing to wedge yourself next to me when you’re a big, older, hairy man, one minute before the perfect Saturday morning class.

It’s another thing to grunt.

It’s another thing to hum.

But when you start acting like it’s a karaoke class?

And you start singing Send me a postcard, drop me a line stating point of view while Paul is singing I could be handy, mending a fuse when your lights have gone? Get the lyrics wrong? 

I’ll kill you.

Then the Christain part of me kicks-in — starts thinking about how judgy I am. I’m hanging in part two of Trikanasana and the big, older, hairy man seems happily lost in the wonder of Bikram and The Beatles and I’m letting it all get way deep under my periodically thin skin.

So I clear my throat during Doing the garden, digging the weeds who could ask for more (of course he’s singing, Send me your answer, give me a form yours for evermore).

And he stops.

He gets the message.

And I start thinking about White Whining. First World Problems. Writing a blog about what a real ass I could be.

The class went on. The amazing playlist continued. And during the break, I turned to the big, older, hairy man and said, “Some good tunes, today, yeah?”

And he smiles and says, “Such an amazing class, brother.”

 

Hot Yoga Class #500 Is Today.

By in Religion, Spirituality Tags: , , ,

I’m sitting here listening to Miss Sarajevo by U2. That song is so stuck in my head and I’m playing it on repeat, really loudly.

Yesterday I took my 499th hot yoga class at my studio, Yoga Tribe. Today I will take my 500th class. It’s the candlelight class. Kelly teaches it.

I knew almost nothing about yoga before I took that class nearly 8 years ago. I stared taking classes, always late in the day. For a while, I thought namaste was a clever spiritual Spanish-English blend saying: no mas day. No joke.

I thought yoga was merely about bending your body in peculiar positions. Like putting your leg around your neck. You’ve seen all those photos.

I thought yoga was weird. Maybe you think it’s weird.

I knew nothing really about meditation back then, either — except Christian meditation. But if I’m honest, Christian meditation and Lectio Divina and stuff like that feels very different to my soul than Eastern meditation and yoga. Not better or worse, just different.

Probably because my busy mind just must find ways to simplify things. Give my mind rest because it’s always churning away thinking too much about too many things. And my life was in crisis when I took that first class in 2009. I thought I had fibromyalgia back then because of chronic pain in my legs and back. Daily chronic pain. Trouble sleeping every night. I’m not exaggerating at all.

Anyway, yoga is only about your body and your mind. That’s it. Those two things. But throw in Bible verses and God, then you’ve gotta manage three things:

Your body.

Your mind.

God.

And that’s more complicated. For me at least. Two is more simple than three. Ockham’s Razor.

Ockham’s Razor.

So if I want a Christian spiritual experience I can do Lectio Divina or go to church or read my Bible and pray.

Some Christians probably think less of me for admitting to all this. We all fall into dualism. Either-or thinking. It goes back to Plato. Religious people like to separate everything into one of two categories: the sacred, or the secular.

So yoga, since it’s not Chrisitan, and especially because it’s spiritual, is frowned upon.

You’re supposed to get your spiritual experiences through overtly Christian activities. For some reason being in nature is okay for most Christians. I like doing nature about as much as yoga. I recently went to Joshua Tree and had quite the natural experience. I wrote about it here. 

But I’m no dualist. I think anything that makes you a better person is good. Even if it’s not overtly Christian. Thomas Aquinas thought so, too.

Some guy is wearing a shirt with the number 97 on it.

Why 97?

I’m always interested in the messages people have on their shirts. I have two Bruce Springsteen shirts. And a shirt with the Chevrolet emblem and a couple of UCLA shirts but I hardly wear them because they’re old. I thought about getting a U2 shirt at the concert last Sunday, but I don’t want a U2 shirt. For some reason I’d rather wear a Springsteen shirt. I don’t think I’d wear a Beatles shirt even though I love the Beatles. I might, I’m not sure. But I would wear a Dylan shirt I think.

Did this guy just stumble upon it at some clothing store? Did he order it online? Was there a 96 shirt, too? I didn’t see the front of it, so I guess it could be some famous player on a baseball team. Or hockey maybe. But I’m always am interested in the messages people have on their shirts.

What we wear says something about who we are.

I took that first yoga class only after years of driving down Adams Avenue and seeing a sign that said “Hot Yoga.”

If it didn’t have the word hot I would have never gone. I had grown to crave heat. It made my body feel better. Still does.

Within minutes of that first class, I knew I was home. For 90 minutes in 115-degree heat, I experienced something that I could never even try and describe.

It was spiritual.

I even canceled my 24-hour Fitness membership the next day. Running on the treadmill and listening to pounding music or watching cable news was never spiritual. Pumping iron was never spiritual. Laps of swimming were never spiritual. For me at least they weren’t.

I started a lemonade diet the next day.

I lost 15 pounds within five days. (People always say that’s water weight, but it’s still weight. My pants got baggier and I looked better.)

More important, all that pain went away. I slept like a baby that night. (I don’t know where the expression “slept like a baby” came from because if you’ve ever had babies they don’t always sleep that good.)

More important than the baggier pants and good sleep, I started learning how to breathe.

Most people don’t know how to breathe. They think they do but they don’t. If you meditate or practice yoga you know what I mean. You remember when you didn’t know how to breathe.

When we get stressed, our body automatically goes into a kind of panic mode. Doesn’t matter if the discomfort is physical or emotional. Fight or flight is an innate animal reaction. Nothing we can do about that animal response unless we are trained to first be aware of it. Then the hard part — realizing it when it’s happening and as they say during yoga, “breathing through the discomfort.”

So if you stub your toe or when your baby cries, or if you get in a fight with your lover or mom or dad, you panic and start taking short breaths. Or, you hold your breath.

Less oxygen gets into your system so your body stresses out more so you panic and take more short breaths.

We need oxygen.

It’s a vicious cycle.

It’s taken me 8 years to learn how to breathe. I still forget to sometimes.

Whenever we start yelling at someone you can bet we are in panic mode.

It’s weird how us humans are really just animals. Do you ever think about that? We react just like animals. Automatic response. Stuff like flinching. That’s what dogs and cows do.

To become aware of our animal-like behaviors is to become less like lower animals, and more like gods. I don’t mean Zeus or Athena or Yahweh. I just mean higher than mere beasts.

More important than breathing — well, probably not more important but as important — has been the art of letting go. When we get stressed our muscles contract. We clench our jaws. Stuff like that. But to learn to let go. To actually relax your muscles when things get more stressful.

That’s a life changer.

One of the hardest things in yoga though is the temptation to lose focus. Start thinking too much. It’s really easy to do that in yoga because it’s such a serene atmosphere. The whole thing is to let go of all those automatic thoughts (which are usually worries).

Often when there are men around me who have better postures, I can become competitive. The whole deal is to focus on yourself and the instructors are always encouraging you to not compare yourself but I do it anyway.

Never with women, only with men. I wonder why that is.

And some people can really bug me. One time there was this couple. They were probably in their 50’s. Very granola looking if you know what I mean. They had their damn mats right next to each other. I’m sorry to write damn but it was one of those little things that just gets under your skin. Or, my skin.

Then they did the 26 postures kind of in unison. Kind of like pair figure skating. And a few times they held hands during the postures. I think if Jason (the owner) was there, he would have put a stop to it. But it was some new teacher. I tried so hard to not look at them during the postures but I’m telling you it was almost impossible.

Sometimes there’s a pretty woman there. That can sometimes distract me if I’m really honest.

But compared to when I started 499 classes ago, it’s day and night.

My capacity to focus has so improved.

But I’m still learning.

I still have a long way to go.

That’s why they call it a practice.

__________

A note on “Freewriting.”

Every Friday, I set my timer on my iPhone for 15 or 20 minutes. Then I start writing. I don’t stop. I write whatever pops into my mind. After 15 minutes, I go back and quickly correct all the blatant typos and make a few edits. Then I publish it on Paulosophia.

I started “freewriting” in the early 1990’s because I had read this short article called “Freewriting.” I was a horrible writer back then, with the most severe writers’ block. The article said you have to write WITHOUT STOPPING. For a fixed period of time. Even if you have to write the same word over and over again. Over time, you get better, and more confident.

Writing becomes as easy as talking.

 

 

 

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