Things Are Crazy, But I Refuse to Despair

Nature is another way to help deal with despair from the craziness

We live in a crazy world. Wars and rumors of wars. Catastrophic weather events and fires. People on the streets protesting the shooting of a peaceful protester and the invasion of cities rounding up and deporting people because of the color of their skin. The wealthy getting wealthier and the poor getting poorer.

Being retired, I have too much time for doom scrolling on social media. It is a habit that is hard to combat, and it can lead to despair. I know many friends and colleagues who express similar emotions because of the crazy times we live in. We wish for all to live in abundance and peace.

Henri Nouwen reminds us in his book With Burning Hearts that, "The more we see the injustice of the world, the more we are tempted to use our own power to bring about justice, but in so doing we often create new forms of injustice." It becomes a vicious cycle which leads to even more despair.

Despite the craziness, I refuse to succumb to the angst and despair all around us. I have found a way to keep me grounded and sane. A simple spiritual exercise that I learned during my spiritual direction training is called the "Consciousness Examen." I use it to dispel the dark clouds that tend to gather when I am exposed to too much doom scrolling. I simply look back upon the day, or the week, and ask my self: "Where have I experienced God?", or where have I been distracted from experiencing God?

So here I list my God experiences just today:

• The smile and jokes of the Russian garage mechanic as he greeted me at the door to receive the key for my car repair. 
• The welcoming smile of the barista at my favorite coffee shop who knows my order and my name. 
• The smile of the woman with four kids who came into the cafe struggling with her youngest, and the warmth that came over her whole being as I gave her a blessing when I left.
• The hugs I got from my two granddaughters who we were minding for the afternoon, and the mischievous grin of one of them when she played a trick on me.
• Solving a challenging New York times Sunday crossword without the help of the answer key, only the second of which I was able to do, out of 40 so far.
• The concern shown by the assistant at the garage where I picked up my car because of how much it cost, and the chuckle from her when I quipped that I bet they were glad they wouldn't have to see that car again. I had to take it back for the third time today until they finally figured out what was wrong.
• The waiter at a local restaurant who saved my credit card that I had left behind several days before and for which I had searched diligently without success, along with the beam on her face when I wished her God's blessing. 
• The Email we received from our church citing progress on our movement forward during a time of transition. 
• The receipt I received in the mail for our giving to a mission effort in Europe. 
• The gourmet meal Esther prepared for us out of a number of leftovers.
• The message exchanges with my siblings dealing memories of a wonderful childhood. 

This was only in the past 12 hours. I can recall countless moments in the past days and weeks. Perhaps you find my musings trivial. Perhaps they don't add up to God moments for you. Nevertheless, they provide for me a way to make me feel better emotionally and spiritually, and to help me to mitigate my despair from the craziness of the world.

Do have ways to deal with the craziness, or do you succumb to despair?

Tribute to Dwight Emmanuel Roth 1945-2025

Dwight Emmanuel Roth died peacefully in his sleep on December 29 in the presence of his loving wife, Lynette. 

I have been friends with Dwight for nearly 50 years. Although we grew up within six miles of each other, a county border divided us and we went to different public high schools.

I first met Dwight at a faculty retreat in the fall of 1976 for instructors of Hesston College at a retreat just west of Wichita, Kansas. He always dressed quite distinctly, and the retreat was no exception. I was not impressed. I decided immediately that I would stay as far away from this "clown" as I could. We were both single, and he was clustered around most of the single faculty. Little did I know that I would eventually room with him for some four years and we would become inseparable.

Dwight and I in 2016 in Reading, PA

My first impression was dramatically changed when he invited me to join him for dinner at the local restaurant, the Colonial House. I don't remember my feelings about accepting the dinner reservation, but we became so engrossed in our conversation that the time flew by, and we had to be advised by the management of the restaurant that they were closing and that we had to leave. We had spent three and a half hours together. This was "kairos" time.

We had an enormous amount of things in common. It started with our mutual love for the Phillies, a professional baseball team from Philadelphia. Those years were filled with playoff runs, culminating with their appearance for the first time in the World Series in 1980. It continued with our experiences in Voluntary Service as conscientious objectors during the Vietnam War; he in Washington, DC, and I in Honduras. We agreed on the injustice of our world.

Another commonality between us was his knowing my grand uncle Rueben Clymer, who lived just up the road from his boyhood home. After Dwight lost his father at age eight, uncle Rueben looked out for Dwight's family who was struggling financially and emotionally.

In 1980, both of us got married. I fell in love with a woman from Switzerland, and he with a more local woman from from Hillsboro. I stood with him at his wedding, then left for a year to pursue my own romance. Esther and I got married and settled in Switzerland for a year. Later during my year in Switzerland, Dwight and his new bride visited, and we took a camping trip together from Amsterdam, through Germany and ended up in Switzerland. I could tell many interesting tales about this time together, and Dwight and I would recount these moments together in ensuing years to much laughter. 

I always knew that Dwight had a spiritual depth beyond most people, but it was only after I experienced a mid-life crisis, that we explored these depths together. We explored the depth psychology of Carl Jung, and found much to converse about. My crisis led me on a sojourn to Eastern Mennonite University and then for a three-year term with Mennonite Central Committee in Mexico. Throughout that time, Dwight and I corresponded by mail. A few years ago, when Dwight was downsizing, he sent me all the letters he had received from me from Mexico. How delightful it was to recall the discussions we shared together in that correspondence. We shared dreams and their Jungian meanings.

I returned to Hesston after Mexico and our friendship picked right up. We had offices side-by-side in two different buildings. We continued and deepened our friendship. Dwight would recount to me out-of-the-world experiences that he had had, and I shared with him some of mine. Eventually I wrote a book about spirituality with my sister, developing concepts that Dwight and I had discussed.

Dwight showing both conventional
and unorthodox clothing at a graduation

As a sociologist, Dwight always felt guilty for his lack of international experience in comparison to my many years overseas. Yet over the years he befriended more international students and other marginalized people than any other individual I know. I had to remind him that he didn’t need to go overseas to understand cross-cultural dynamics. He was Jesus to many students who passed through this often exclusive, homogeneous town in central Kansas. 

On one occasion Dwight attended a gathering of students and faculty consisting of mostly Spanish speakers; he being the exception. Always a keen observer, he told me: "You have an entirely different personality when you speak Spanish." This was a new concept for me, and made me reflect on language learning at a new depth.

Since leaving Kansas to move east to be closer to family, Dwight and I have kept in contact by calling each other at least every other month. I was saddened by what transpired after his diagnosis of Parkinson's. I followed his moves and his program of exercise in combating the disease. During the month leading up to his death, I had him on my mind and wanted to call him once again. I failed to do so. Therefore, his death shocked me. I had no idea he was approaching his last days. My only comfort, even though I am crying in grief as I write this, is knowing that Dwight, who knew realities beyond the physical realm better than most people, had entered into that reality in peace. He loved his middle name Emmanuel, because it means "God with us." Now Dwight is with God. RIP brother Dwight.