Tag: acceptance

Inner peace

I’ve known many restless people. They’re sad, disappointed. Often they believe they’ve been dealt a bad hand. The great work they do is never recognised. The best opportunities never come their way. They’re dissatisfied, rarely thankful, and constantly striving but never arriving.

However, I also know people who are deeply content, happy with their lot, fulfilled, pleased with what they’ve done, what they have, and relaxed about what the future holds. They have inner peace.

What characterises that second group, those who are at peace, who feel content and fulfilled? The answers aren’t the same for everyone, but there are distinct features in the lives of content people.

Contentment is a decision they make

Much of the time we attach satisfaction, sufficiency, fulfilment to achievement. We think, ‘I’ll be content if I get this promotion, or buy that house, or have everything I want’. Bill took pride in his photography. Rightly so, for he was good, occasionally paid to do a photo shoot. “Of course,” he told me, “to do exceptional work I’d need the very best lenses”. But Bill couldn’t afford them. Each lens would cost thousands of dollars, money he did not have. So Bill was restless. I’m fairly clued up on photography, and I knew the lenses he used already were excellent. But they were not the very best. And Bill could not be content with that. His problem? His inner feelings depended on achieving external things, such as the ‘best lenses’. Even if he’d had the money to buy them, he’d soon be discontent again. Why? Because in a year or two there would certainly be ‘better still’ lenses. Similarly, those who think they’ll be satisfied if only they get a promotion or live in a dream house, they’d soon long for an even higher promotion, or an even more dreamy house. Such folk are endlessly restless because they imagine the route to contentment involves getting all they want.

Those with inner peace don’t connect their satisfaction to achievement. They choose to be content with what they have. That doesn’t mean they never strive for something better, but even if everything stays just as it is, they’re okay. Contentment for them is a choice, not something that exists only if everything falls into place. While he was a prisoner in jail, the Apostle Paul wrote: ‘I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances’ (Philippians 4:11). Those are wise words.

 Being at peace with our Maker

Just once, I rashly attempted to do pottery. Even more rashly, I had a go at wheel throwing a bowl. That involved shaping the clay into a bowl while the clay was spinning on a wheel. I was spectacularly unsuccessful. I didn’t use the right amount of water and didn’t place my hands correctly to shape the clay. But my fundamental problem was that I didn’t get my clay centred. The wheel turned but the clay was off-centre, so it wobbled around and then collapsed. If the wheel had been spinning any faster, my clay might have ended up on the far side of the room. Trust me, you could get everything else right but failure to centre the clay will doom your pottery to disaster.

My perspective, as a Christian, is that our lives need to find their centre in God. Perhaps the most famous statement of that truth was written more than 1620 years ago by Augustine of Hippo[1]: ‘you have made us and drawn us to yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you’ (St Augustine, Confessions[2]). Augustine’s restlessness about how he was living was resolved only when he made peace with God.

I’ve talked with many restless people. Some could not let go of past sins. Some could not forgive those who had wronged them. Some could not shake off their parents’ disappointment in them. Some couldn’t come to terms with their own failed ambitions. Some felt they’d missed life-changing opportunities. Some couldn’t cure unhealthy or unacceptable habits.

With those restless people, I never suggested that a quick prayer could sort out their struggles. But I did talk with them about who made them and what their lives were for. Some found a new centre for their lives in knowing God, finding forgiveness for themselves and others, and a new sense of purpose for the future. Others coped with their off-centred lives, but were not at peace.

Contentment isn’t about getting more but being satisfied with what we have

In October 2022, I wrote this in a blog post:
Many years ago, when the Glasgow area called the Gorbals had the worst of tenement slums, I visited a young Christian worker who lived in the most troubled area of the Gorbals. Not only were these tenements in dangerously poor condition, gangs and drugs dominated the streets. That young man’s small flat was over-run with local kids, who ate his food, watched his TV, lounged on his sofa, and sometimes stole his property. No matter how tough his life was, that Christian didn’t leave. He kept right on befriending youth, helping them and forgiving them. (https://occasionallywise.com/2022/10/05/a-good-tree-bears-good-fruit/)

I talked for some time with that Christian worker in his tenement flat. He had very little, partly because his more valuable things had been stolen. “God knows where they are,” he told me with a wry smile, “so they’re not really lost, are they?”. He was at peace. He didn’t long for what he didn’t have; he didn’t wish to live anywhere safer or more pleasant; he didn’t long for any other kind of work. He was in the right place doing the right thing, and therefore at peace.

I admit there have been times when I’ve thought ‘If only I had this or that, then life would be good’. But now, thankfully, I’m usually content with what I have. Recently my laptop died. It wouldn’t boot up. I got expert advice, but the final verdict was ‘Buy a new laptop’. Thankfully all my essential files were backed up to the ‘cloud’, so letting go of the old laptop was no more than saying goodbye to a faithful friend. Here’s my point: I had used that laptop for ten years (which is probably why it suddenly expired!). Why not change it after three years, or five? My answer: because it kept on doing everything I needed. There was nothing of significance that a shiny, new laptop would have given me. Until it passed away, that old laptop was quite sufficient.

Recognising the sufficiency of almost everything we have, and not longing for more, brings contentment.

Change what you can, accept what you can’t

One of the world’s most famous prayers is commonly called the ‘Serenity Prayer’:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.[3]

All three parts of the prayer are difficult to do:

  • Accepting calmly what we can’t change
  • Acting boldly to bring about changes which are possible
  • Knowing whether acceptance or action is the right choice

Faced with an impossible situation, most of us survive through gritted teeth, hating the experience. Or, knowing something must change, we struggle to find the drive or determination to take on the challenge. Or, through indecision, we do nothing and feel miserable about our inactivity.

Inner peace belongs to those who overcome these challenges, whether that means living with an unpleasant truth or risking all to make things better for ourselves or others.

Recently I talked with a man who was diagnosed with cancer three years ago. It began in his vital organs but then spread to his brain. He went through major medical interventions. That was a hard experience, but those treatments have made a huge difference and his cancer has stopped spreading. But he knows it could restart. He is scanned every three months in case there are new growths. What impressed me is his attitude: “You learn to live with things as they are, while always still fighting the enemy you fear.” He has his dark days, but mostly he’s at peace. Brave man.

That’s a tranquillity not everyone finds. I feel for them. But the truth remains, that inner peace comes from changing what you can and accepting what you can’t.

I have four more principles for inner peace. I will describe them briefly.

Be right with the important people in your life
For many years my professional life took me all over the world. Sometimes I was in isolated locations, such as rural Bangladesh, the Congo jungle, or North Korea, places where I was out of touch with the rest of the world. But, in less-remote places, I’d buy postcards, sit up late at night writing them, and next day find somewhere to buy stamps and post them to each of my four children. Postcards don’t have space for significant news sharing, but at least my children knew I was thinking about them. I still do. And we continue to have a great relationship, for which I’m deeply grateful. They are a source of great peace and joy for me. Be right with those you love.

Accept your limits
One of my boyhood heroes was David Rollo, a Fife farmer. He had attended my school and later I watched him play international rugby for Scotland. The legendary radio and TV rugby commentator Bill McLaren remembered Rollo’s international debut in a match against England:

“That 1959 match, at which I shared the radio commentary was quite distinctive for the courage shown by the Fife farmer, David Rollo who was gaining his first cap out of the Howe of Fife club. Soon after the start David suffered a broken nose, but after a brief absence for repairs, he returned to play prop with undiminished fire. After that debut it hardly was surprising that David went on to gain 40 caps.“[4]

I wanted to play rugby for Scotland like Dave Rollo did. In the school team I played front row prop in the scrum, just like Rollo did. I tried to tackle like he did, pass the ball like he did, do everything on the rugby field like he did. Except I couldn’t. I didn’t have Rollo’s skill or fitness, and before I’d reached the ripe old age of 14 I realised I’d never be like Dave Rollo and never play rugby for Scotland. And I accepted that. I might do other significant things, but they wouldn’t be related to rugby.

Being at peace means recognising and accepting your limits.

Invest your life in things that matter

In an earlier blog post I described an experience during a two week stay in hospital.[5] The man in the next bed to mine had his own TV, and watched television soap operas all day. I couldn’t see his TV but I heard every word of those annoying dramas since my neighbour didn’t have earphones. When his wife visited each evening, their whole time was spent watching an evening soap episode together. This was clearly normal life for them. ‘Do they have nothing better to do with their lives?’ I wondered.

On the whole, inner peace is related to doing things that matter. Our lives have significance, so should be used in some way, perhaps only a small way, to make the world around us a better place. We won’t all be doctors, or aid workers, or civil rights activists, or campaigners for the poor. We don’t need to be. Margaret was well-educated and could have had a great career, but she poured her life into bringing up her four boys. It was the role she believed was uniquely hers. “People criticised me for that choice,” she said, “but I knew what I did for my boys would be important.” She was right. Two of her sons had world-wide influence through their leadership, speaking, and writing. The other two were never prominent people, but quietly did a great deal of good in their communities, helping and healing lives, as well as bringing up their own families to be good people.

Having peace flows from knowing your life has significance.

Be kind

I’m not sure if having inner peace causes people to act kindly, or if acting kindly creates inner peace. Probably both are true, and there’s a virtuous circle: being at peace leads to kindness which, in turn, generates an even greater sense of inner peace.

For about 15 months I worked in a local government office, and often dealt directly with the public. Many people were polite and reasonable. But not everyone. Right from their opening sentence, some were angry and hostile. The nasty customers often had weak arguments, and tried to compensate for that with shouts or threats. It seemed to me that’s how they were wired, their approach to everything, and I often thought, ‘I wonder what it’s like to be married to him or her?’ Not a happy experience, I concluded. These people were not at all at peace in their inner selves.

But I’ve also known folk who were wired with kindness, thoughtfulness, and graciousness. They wanted to help, to please, to make my life better. There was no drama, no seeking advantage, just a quiet desire to bless others. Out of a good heart, love flowed.

Jesus said: “every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit” (Matthew 7:17). In other words, what’s true about our inner lives is shown in our outer lives. Let kindness, peace and joy reign.

To finish, one final thought. Inner peace can’t be had instantaneously. It’s not as if people who have been troubled and angry for decades go to bed, and wake up next morning magically transformed into people who feel calm and peaceful about life.

Rather, I see it this way. There’s a road we travel through life. Along that road lies positive events and experiences which help us feel good. But along that road are also problems, conflicts, disappointments, and frustrations. More than anything else, what determines a troubled or peaceful inner self is how we respond to the challenges, the hard things strewn in our path. I urge you, whether your way is easy or hard, make the choices which bring you inner peace. You will never regret it.

[1] Hippo is now the modern city of Annaba, on the coast of Algeria, North Africa.

[2] The full reference to Augustine’s words: Lib 1,1-2,2.5,5: CSEL 33, 1-5. The Confessions were written around 400 AD.

[3] The prayer first appeared in print in the 1930s. Scholars debate its authorship. It has appeared in various forms, though always with the same main ideas.

[4] From https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Rollo_(rugby_union) At the time of writing this blog post, Dave Rollo is 88.

[5] See: https://occasionallywise.com/2021/10/16/if-only-everyone-thought-like-me-things-would-be-much-better-no-they-wouldnt/

Disappointment

In less than six months the grumbles began about Pastor Frank. In less than a year the church fired him. Frank was devastated. He had sincerely believed God had called him to that church. At the service marking the beginning of his ministry, the whole congregation had stood and declared they also believed his appointment was God’s will. Frank felt affirmed. This was where he was meant to be. Now he was fired, leaving him shocked, distraught, self-esteem damaged, doubting his abilities and doubting his calling.

Of course, the church saw things differently. Their senior officer told me, ‘Frank is a good man, but he’s a terrible preacher. People were leaving. The church might have closed. What else were we to do?’ Had they not heard him preach before he was appointed? ‘He must have given his one good sermon,’ the leader replied.

Whatever the rights and wrongs of that situation, Frank was crushed by the criticism and rejection he experienced. After months of agonising thought, he took another job. It was not as a pastor.

Many experience severe disappointment, and it comes in many guises.

George was madly in love with Wendy. They got engaged, discussed the wedding plans and everything they could think of about their future married life. Then for six months George went to Africa on a humanitarian mission. He and Wendy wrote constantly, but half way through his mission George noticed the warmth had gone from his fiancée’s  letters. When he was home, Wendy met with him only once, handed back the engagement ring, and told him they must go their separate ways. George never saw her again. ‘What did I do? Why did I deserve this?’ he asked. He never got answers. Everything he’d anticipated about his future was gone. All that was left was the deepest of deep disappointments.

Viv was probably the cleverest pupil in my high school class. If there were subjects in which she wasn’t first, she was at least second or third. Everyone knew she’d excel in her final exams, go on to university, then move into a fabulous career. None of that happened. Viv left school as soon as the law allowed, long before those final exams, and got a modest job in an office. Why? Viv left because she was mocked. She was less than five feet (1.5 metres) tall, and teased mercilessly by fellow pupils and even by some teachers. When Viv stood up in class, someone would shout ‘Stand up Viv’. At other times someone would ask ‘Is Viv not here today?’ when it was perfectly obvious she was present. As she left school for the final time, Viv left a message. It read, ‘I couldn’t take it any more…’

Criticism, mocking, rejection, and disappointment may not be the very worst experiences someone can have, but their cruelty eats away at our inner spirit, destroys confidence and injures us for years. Maybe forever.

So, how do we deal with disappointment and similar blows to our inner spirit? It’s easy to give trite answers, but they are always unsatisfactory. If anything I write seems like that, I apologise. I do understand that getting past deep disappointments is no easy matter.

Disappointment is normal

In 1975, the rising star of American golf, Tom Watson, arrived in Carnoustie, Scotland, to play for the first time in the Open Championship (one of the four golf ‘majors’). He was used to the soft, flat fairways of America, but he’d never played on a British links course.[1] Watson began a practice round, and hit a glorious drive straight down the first fairway. He strode after his ball, but couldn’t find it in the centre of the fairway, nor anywhere close by. After ten minutes he finally located it in the edge of the rough. His ball had hit a mound, and ricocheted sideways. Watson was not impressed. Feeling cheated, he said later: ‘I didn’t believe that was the way golf should be played’. But before the main tournament began he accepted that this is how links golf is played, and that bad bounces were normal. Watson not only won that 1975 Open Championship on his debut, but won the tournament again another four times.

The very biggest disappointments in life are not matters we just shrug off. But more moderate disappointments are normal. We fail a driving test, we scrape the car against a wall, we do poorly in an exam, we’re not picked for the football team, a friend breaks her promise, our pay rise never materialises, the special meal we planned becomes a burnt offering, and so the list could go on. Life is not a soft, flat fairway. It’s one with humps and hollows that throw us aside. This is normal. And it’s survivable, as you’ll see by reading on.

Disappointment develops resilience

To be resilient doesn’t mean you don’t get hurt or discouraged when things go wrong. But it does mean you’ve learned how to pick yourself up and move forward beyond those troubles. In fact, it’s the problems and disappointments in life that create and build resilience in our lives.

Here’s a very personal story. My mum died in her mid-50s, and dad remarried several years later. Anne, his second wife, was a lovely, kind lady, and for many years they enjoyed each other’s company, took short vacations, spent time with family, and pondered the mysteries of their newspaper’s daily crossword. Then Anne had a stroke, and was paralysed down one side of her body. Her speech wasn’t bad, but walking unaided was near impossible. Anne became depressed, and gave up on physiotherapy because she didn’t believe she could get better. I visited as often as I could and supported my dad as he cared for Anne. He and I talked about what more could be done for Anne, but it seemed all that could be done was being done. Anything more had to come from inside Anne. But dad told me Anne had never been ill in her whole life, never faced a difficult health issue, never had to fight for healing. Now, devastated by her stroke, it seemed she’d no inner resource of strength to draw on. Anne never recovered.

Years ago I read the story of a man watching a moth freeing itself from its chrysalis, the little cocoon in which it first grew. The man saw the moth push open a small opening in the chrysalis’ wall, then struggle to widen it. But the moth couldn’t seem to open the hole any further. So the man took fine scissors, cut the slit wider, and the moth flopped out. It lay free from its chrysalis and the man waited for it to stretch its wings and fly off. But the moth didn’t. It couldn’t. It just lay there, and, with dread, the man realised that the struggle to free itself was what gave strength to its wings. He’d taken away its struggle, and the result was that moth would never fly.

The struggles of life build our strength. Yes, they’re painful, and yes, we wish they never happened, but they create in us the resilience we need to get through life.[2]

Disappointment can be an opportunity for something new

One of the most common things said by employers to someone being fired is: ‘This might be a really good thing in your life’. Not one person being fired ever agrees. And I could agree only by emphasising that word might – yes, it might be good, but it isn’t automatic.

When might disappointment be good? It depends on things like these:

  • What you’re leaving – such as getting out of a job in which you were not succeeding, or out of a relationship that would never work out well.
  • What new opportunity opens up – some of the best outcomes I’ve known following career disappointment have come when someone retrained for a high demand job.
  • What attitude you take about your future – being numbed by what you’ve lost means missing out on what you could gain.

My pastor friend Murray strove for years to save a dying church. It had been declining for years before Murray became pastor, but he’d believed he could turn things round. He gave his best but the problems were deep-rooted in attitudes and personalities, and numbers kept dwindling. So did Murray’s spirits. I met with him many times, and watched optimism turn to pessimism, and brightness drift into depression. ‘Murray,’ I said, ‘it’s time to move somewhere else’. He wouldn’t listen, saying ‘A captain goes down with his ship’. Yet, strangely but very timely, soon after that another church asked him to consider becoming their pastor, and Murray accepted. He left the failing church with a heavy heart, but poured himself into his new work. And, wonderfully, Murray flourished and so did that church. He’d been desperately disappointed he couldn’t save the first church, but its problems were probably more than any pastor could solve. Freed from those issues, Murray’s gifts were exactly what the new church needed. It grew and Murray’s self-confidence as a minister grew. And he had a great ministry.

There are new opportunities after deep disappointment, providing we’re open to them.

Disappointment with how we’re treated needn’t be passive

I told a little of Viv’s story earlier. To this day it makes me sad that teasing and bullying stopped her completing her school education and pursuing her career dreams. As far as I know she never complained to a teacher or the school’s head teacher. I understand that. A 14 or 15-year-old feels powerless. But I wish she had. I wish she’d got her parents banging on the head teacher’s door, demanding action to stop anyone giving their daughter a hard time. I never teased Viv – honestly I didn’t – but I wish I’d realised how hurt she felt about what others said, and that I’d done something to protect and encourage her. People like Viv need allies. It might have helped.

Unfairness, prejudice, bullying must be called out for the wrong they are. Some things in life that hurt and disappoint us can’t be changed and we must accept them (as I’ll write in a moment). But we can’t and shouldn’t accept everything. There are times when such a wrong is being done we must push back.

Disappointment with ourselves is especially difficult

The Greek word akrasia means ‘weakness of will’, ‘acting against our own considered judgment’. Philosophers debate how we can choose to do what is not in our interests to do.

Whatever conclusions philosophers reach, akrasia is a reality for all of us. We do things we know aren’t right or helpful.

Everyone has their own list of akrasia experiences. For some it’s when they didn’t try their hardest. Or betrayed a confidence. Or failed to keep a promise. Or did something morally or legally dreadful.

What disappoints us about akrasia failures is that we knew we were doing wrong. We could and should have acted differently. That makes it hard to excuse ourselves.

But what we can’t excuse we can forgive. I missed sociology lectures when I was first at university, not because I disliked the subject but because the lectures were too early in the morning so I stayed in my bed. I was disappointed in myself, but instead of holding on to that disappointment, I chose to change. I bought a loud alarm clock, went to bed earlier, and rolled out of bed as soon as the alarm sounded. But none of that would have happened if I hadn’t forgiven myself. Regretting about yesterday stops us rejoicing in what today brings.

Disappointment sometimes has to be met with acceptance

If disappointment is a normal human experience, it can’t always be avoided. We’ll feel it whenever what we hope for doesn’t happen, or what we’ve dreaded does happen. Disappointment is an inevitable emotion, a right emotion. And, in a healthy sense, we should accept it. ‘This is how I should feel given what’s happened.’

We accept it because life is a place of hard knocks. One of the times the Commonwealth Games[3] was staged in Edinburgh, I helped out in the Games’ Village. One evening I noticed a young athlete sitting alone, looking seriously sad. We began to talk, and I learned she was a Welsh sprinter who’d been eliminated in the first heat of the only event in which she was entered. She’d dedicated her life to preparing for these Games, and in seconds her part was all over. She was very disappointed. Of course she was. In that one conversation, there was nothing I could say to ease her pain. But my hope is that before too long she understood that this was one blow in her life, and beyond it lay many good things.

We all have to do that. Every dream can’t be fulfilled. I had a flatmate who wrote letters to at least twenty senior football clubs across Britain asking for a trial. They replied. Not one club offered him a trial. He was disappointed. But clearly not everyone can be a top soccer player, or an operatic star, or a princess, or a fighter pilot, or climb Everest, or break a world record, or become prime minister or president. We have to come to terms with disappointment.

Thankfully there’s more to life than the things which disappoint us. There’s a saying ‘When God closes a door, he opens a window’. A door closing isn’t the end of opportunities. Whether or not we see those opportunities as God’s better plan for our lives, there always exists a new way which is still a good way.

Recognise that disappointments will occur throughout life. Learn from them, and let them make you stronger. Move forward, confident that beyond disappointment lies something good and fulfilling.

[1] In the UK, a links course is one built on the land lying between the sea and agricultural land, hence the name ‘links’. That land would originally have been undulating and likely unsuitable for farming.

[2] For one of the most remarkable stories of perseverance in the face of many disappointments, you should read the account I gave of one man’s life in an earlier blog. See https://occasionallywise.com/2021/05/01/when-your-car-number-plate-really-matters/

[3] The 2022 Commonwealth Games will be held in Birmingham, England, from 28 July to 8 August. Background information about the Commonwealth Games is at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Commonwealth_Games