The Art of Careful Living

Philippians 2:1-4

Right off the bat, I want to make something clear--"careful" here does not mean--necessarily--cautious living, but rather living with a heart ready to care for others--a life of full compassion. It is to allow love to guide our thoughts, guard our words, and lead our actions so they all can coalesce into a intentional care offered in any context and to any person we meet.

That's a tall order.

To live in such a way requires first of all that we be mindful. That itself is a loaded term that can be easily manipulated into something other than it is. Simon Critchley and Jamieson Webster wrote in The New York Times ("The Gospel of Me," July 1 2013) that mindfulness is used by self-help gurus as an excuse to be self-aware which means being fully focused on what I want and how I can get it without regard for anyone else's needs. Obviously, reading Paul, true mindfulness means something totally other than that. True mindfulness is awareness of one's surroundings in such a way that all the details sink into our consciousness, especially the presence of the other human beings in that setting whatever it might be. Perhaps the simplest and clearest definition of mindfulness is paying attention. Through mindfulness, we find ourselves as we find where we are, with whom we are, becoming more and more aware of what is needed for all to benefit, emphasis on that "all"--you, me, them, etc. No single individual needs are elevated over anyone else's--happiness comes when all find enough--i.e., everyone finds that enough needs are met to eliminate fear, angst, and mistrust. Love blossoms.

So, the first order of business may seem the simplest--see, hear, and be aware of all that is right in front of you.

Then, we can move to step two which is responding to our context, especially the people found within it. We truly seek to listen to the voices speaking all around us with an ear to responding--what do they need? what can I give? is there some way to pool our resources?

Think of this as a daily planning meeting except it has none of the formality of being a staff meeting--it is simply conversation among human beings. Think for a moment how much is communicated in a simple conversation. With mindfulness, we hear not only the actual words spoken, but how they are spoken. For instance, a friend and I meet for coffee nearly daily--not formal appointments, mind you, we just like coffee and are always at the cafe at the same time. We were exchanging greetings the other morning--the absolute banal stuff of "Hi, how are you?"--yet, he discerned in my tone something else there--a distraction, a thoughtfulness, or concern--so he asked me with real care, "How are you doing?" The truth was I was simply preoccupied with the work at hand, getting ready for a Communion service later in the day, but I felt cared for because he was mindful of me. He really wanted to know the answer.

This directive is at the heart of Paul's thought in this section of his Philippian epistle. If we are to actualize the presence and the power of Christ within the world as his disciples, then we need to start by paying attention and re-prioritizing our actions and words based on other-centered love--i.e., compassion.

What made Christ the Christ was his ability to do so always and perfectly. We, of course, cannot, nor should we, seek such perfection. But that does not excuse us from not making the attempt to do so and to be so as best we can.

Our world is a mess. Henri Nouwen once wrote that our world is so broken that we have ritualized our experience of it in the worship service called the evening news! Watching the news mindfully, he realized that the presenters fell into a rhythmic style of speech akin to chant as they ran through the "liturgy" beginning with national and international intrigue (usually war, pestilence, and famine of some sort); moving to the proclamation of local indignities of crashes, murder, fires, and whatnot; then adding the joy of sports, weather, and business (our salvation?); and ending with a pithy anecdote of wise counsel from the talking head ("Compassion," pp. 48-59, 1983 [before cable TV, but still relevant]). What Nouwen asked us to do was to break from the liturgy, which by design makes suffering so big, so sweeping, and so overwhelming that it minimizes our response and even ability to respond. Instead, become mindful of an actual face, life, and human being. Take them in. Take in their circumstance. Take in their needs. Respond as you are able in that moment with what you have. If we all do so, transformation comes one mustard seed at a time.

In so doing, we make compassion real and livable. We also find our fellow travelers, for in listening to one another mindfully, we realize the means by which we can give to one another in such a way that more can be done. No one is expected to do all of this loving by themselves. Christ called us into communities for a reason. We are to add to one another. We are to complete one another. We are to created a community of grace. Our faith is communal. That was intentional on God's part as God revealed the nature and practice of faith in Christ. God is love; therefore, God is about connectionalism. God draws us together. God binds us together. That is love. That is a good thing.

Taking all of these thoughts together, we discover the essence of careful living. We live in and through love, caring for the world and for one another within it. In this work, we discover our meaning, purpose, and hope.

Yes, hope.

The more we are able to live in and through love, we can indeed find our way through the morass that is the world. The more we are able to live in and through love, the more present God becomes to us. It is not that God were ever absent, but as we transform our minds into careful awareness, that presence becomes still more manifest to us. That is also a good thing. We are not alone. The strength of God goes with us.

That is careful living.