Good news and bad news

Lately it seems that I have become preoccupied with bad news. Mind you, my husband and I have taken great pains to avoid being inundated with news—we don’t even have TV reception.

I can honestly say that I don’t miss all those talking heads a bit. I do listen to the radio for a few minutes in the morning and a few minutes in the car when I’m running errands or driving home from work. Most of our news comes by way of the Internet.

I admit that I’m the main culprit when it comes to introducing controversial topics at the dinner table. I have a penchant for frequenting news websites in my spare time and I enjoy keeping the rest of my family up to date on the latest happenings. I’m beginning to realize that I start my sentences with, “Did you know . . .  ?” a little too often.

Some people might not consider this a negative and in some respects, neither do I. But there’s a point (and you would think I’d have learned this lesson already), where news overtakes your life, your mood, your plans for the future even.

It’s difficult to ignore the news about the economy, mounting debt, tea party protests, torture, terrorism, company shut-downs, impending lay-offs, and swine flu. Our family (like most, I would think), have discussed all of these things over the last several weeks, always coming full-circle to realize that we have no control over these events and acknowledging that we need to trust in God no matter what happens. So we move on with our lives.

Having experienced cancer this year, swine flu doesn’t seem like such a bogeyman. I don’t mean to trivialize the suffering of anyone who has experienced it, but all the hype about it strikes me about the same as an annoying phone solicitor. “Sorry, I gave at the office--I’ve pledged all my worry to The Cancer Recurrence Hotline.”

I hadn’t realized how much I was getting caught up in the bad news until this evening. After discussing the latest news release about the swine flu and what impact it could have in our own community (not to mention the nation and world), then moving on to the possible erosion of our freedoms while comparing the state of affairs to Nazi Germany (always a convenient analogy to energize the conversation), my husband left the house and my daughter and I were alone.

I noticed that she looked depressed and a little angry. When I asked what was troubling her, I was brought up short. She replied by telling me that she’s noticed an advancing obsession with world events and negativity in our conversations (something over and above the normal conversations). I nodded in agreement, but then justified it with an explanation. And even though my explanation makes perfect sense to me, I couldn’t get past the mounting feeling that she was entirely too insightful for my own comfort.

“You see,” I explained to her, “all of this might seem normal to you. But this is the first time these things have happened in my lifetime and frankly, it scares me. I don’t know what’s happening to our country.”

She acknowledged that we have reason to be concerned, but that we’re focusing entirely too much on the negative and then she said, “I think we should be talking about God a lot more.” She also reminded me that news focuses mostly on the negative, not the good things that are happening. Wow. I hadn’t realized the impact our discussions were having on her, but I got it.

I remember back in the 70s when I started attending Christian youth gatherings (the time of the “Jesus Movement”). I heard over and over again, “These are the last days. Jesus is coming soon!” You know, after hearing it repeatedly, I began to get a little depressed. Oh, it wasn’t that heaven didn’t sound good, but I was a young teen with the rest of my life ahead of me. I started thinking that maybe I shouldn’t plan for my future—after all, I probably wasn’t going to be around to live it.

It took some time and maturing as a Christian before I realized that dwelling on the “last days” isn’t helpful. It’s tricky business: living as if we’re sojourners in this world, but planning and living out our earthly lives as if we’ll be here a long time—long enough to make a difference.

While I was pondering all of this tonight, I happened to click on my “Drafts” folder in my email program and noticed a draft that I had saved over two years ago. (Often, when I come across something that I find particularly helpful or inspiring, I’ll copy it and save it in my Drafts folder.) I was struck by the words I read, because of their timeliness and wisdom. I hope others might benefit from reading these words as well.

A Russian Monk Alexander wrote in an article titled, In the Temple of Broken Hearts:

"Let us think about all the good things God gives us in our life, and then they will increase and will oust all the bad ones. But here we have to bear in mind that good does not necessarily mean pleasant. If we savor details of our misfortune, we will be sucked into the swamps of sad thoughts with the danger of suffocating in our own mud. Saint Ephraim the Syrian said: "You will smell the stench of a dung-heap, as long as you stand beside it."

"Let us learn to rejoice at all the good things the present day brings with it, than we will not burden ourselves with solving our future problems. Jesus Christ says: 'Let the day's own trouble be sufficient for the day' (Matthew 6:34).

In medical terms, the preoccupation with something that has not yet taken place is called a 'dark perspective disorder'. The Gospel warns us against this disorder by proclaiming to live in the present day.

It is necessary to turn from the past and cast off thoughts about the future in order to discover unlimited potential of the present day. This day is unique, for it will never be repeated again. It comprises the whole experience of my previous life and all the potential for the future. It belongs to me and I can do whatever I want with it. I can fill it with vain trouble and anxiety, or I can dedicate it to God. "Today is the day God has given me.”

If I could realize what kind of gift it is to me, I would use every moment of it to make my life brighter and more meaningful spiritually. I would not look back to the past in disappointment, would not reflect anxiously about the future. I would try to live it the best I could. I would notice everything interesting and divine in my life and nature around me.

Thirst for beauty, thirst for life is characteristic of every living thing, but it is conscious only in man. Today, by dying consciously for all that has nothing in common with the Divine life, we can be born into a new life in God, the name of which is love."