The Wisdom of Tenderness

Reading, listening, reflecting...learning. I'm learning to live differently by growing in acceptance of God's will; a titanic concept hidden right in our soul. That, according to Brennan Manning, author of The Wisdom of Tenderness.

My book collection has grown considerably with writings by people who have traveled similar roads of sorrow. I like this little book by Manning. We have some common life experiences. One is our view of (dis) organized religion.

Manning concludes his 179 page book with a fantasy exercise where St. Paul appears in America today. After buying a lunch of a sub sandwich and a wine cooler, Paul makes a passionate plea to church leaders to return to the roots of Christianity, sacrificing growth for quality of faith. Paul challenges the Church: Where did we lose understanding that to be a Christian is always a process of becoming one? Why are Christians better able to tell one how to be one than we are to show one how to be one? What happened to tactful silence in the presence of unbelievers? Love and mercy were preached by Jesus, not success, ambiguity, and arrogance.

Some of the feelings I have struggled with since Aaron's death are, I am learning, American inspired and self-will fed feelings of failure. How was I not able to keep my son safe from danger and alive? Could I have done a better job teaching him to drive? To be careful? Did I fail to teach Aaron prudence? If I had done better, could it have made a difference? Would Aaron still be alive?

I know this day that the answer to those quandries is a gentle "it does not matter". What is is. What it could be, could have or should have been, are dreams for releasing healing tears and deep emotion. Oh, it is good to cry. Sadness is a wonderful emotion which God gave us. Maybe more wonderful than happiness, as nothing brings us closer to God than pain. Nothing makes us more merciful than pain. Manning says "There is no gentle road to tenderness. Pain is the crucible in which one is made tender". Certainly many people who have lived a tough life grow to be unmerciful, callous, and insensitive.

I believe God has questions for each of us when tragedy strikes or hard times prevail. Those questions are something like: Now that this happened what will you do? Will you choose evil or good?

On page 132 Manning writes:

Isn't failure worthwhile if it teaches us to be gentle with the failure of others, to be patient, to live in the wisdom of accepted tenderness, and to pass that tenderness on to others? If we're always successful, we may get so wrapped up in our own victories that we're insensitive to the anguish of others; we may fail to understand (or even to try to understand) the human heart; we may think of success as our due. Then later, if our little world collapses through death or disaster, we have no inner resources.

With a heavenly share of mercy to accompany my failures, I am in the process of becoming a person; a Christian. I thank God for what I have left and I pray for all Dads, Moms, siblings, cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles who have lost sons and daughters. May you open your hearts to God's mercy and find the tenderness to accept God's will for your life.

In Peace,

Tom