The goal of these essays is to reach the following three audiences:
regular folks who find that their faith and religon have been pushed to the side because spiritual things don't seem very relevant to their lives.
therapists who've never had much formal training in how faith and religion can shape a person and how to respond to religious dilemmas.
ministers who struggle to find fresh ways to communicate ancient and wise perspectives on how to live a life that matters.
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Faith: What Gets You Up in the Morning ?
(or keeps you awake at night?)
When you are six weeks old, you live to eat, poop and sleep. Some would say that many of us men never move beyond this, but if your surroundings have been trustworthy (see Note 1), then by the time you are three, you awaken with the need to explore. As you grow physically and intellectually stronger in early childhood, you are driven to experiment with more complex forms of play and learning. Whatever interests you have in things religious or spiritual are tied very closely to the quality of the snacks in Sunday School.
By late childhood you have added "best friends" to the mix. You hop out of bed with a desire to run next door to see your buddy. Games involve both cooperation and challenge. Anxieties about fitting in and competing take shape. Religious life is more about being with friends than being with God (though we become quite proficient at answering the God questions correctly).
As romance is aroused in adolescence you awaken each day thinking about that special someone that is either in your life, or that you are trying to figure out how to make a part of your life. But adolescence also brings a full flowering of your brain power. You may develop an intense interest in performing music, or solving math problems, or reading books. You begin to get ideas about what you really want to do when you grow up. The same hormones that unleash romantic passion may also energize your spiritual life. Many of us report that our first experiences of being deeply touched by God occurred in our teen years, often at church camp.
Assuming that one navigates the anxieties of adolescence in a good-enough fashion, young adulthood brings a new spin on motivation. You are pushed along by the call of a career and by the desire to find someone you can spend the rest of this great adventure with. You face a variety of challenges. You need to write papers for class or solve problems at work. You want to figure out how to afford some of the good things in life. You are pushed to make difficult moral and ethical choices, without having a parent standing over your shoulder. All of thi  s is leading towards a goal of standing on your own two feet. And it is all complicated by the deeply biological and deeply cultural pushes to find a mate.
Up to this point, what gets a person up in the morning is shaped by a growing body and developing brain. The rules of your family and broader culture also pressure you to focus attention in particular directions. Here's an example of some rules:
 The most important thing in life should be finding a mate who will take care of you.
 The most important thing in life should be making as much money as you can.
 The most important thing in life should be doing whatever your parents tell you to do.
 The most important thing in life should be to take as much as you can from anyone who has more than you.
 The most important thing in life should be....
Each of these is a kind of faith proclamation. That is to say, whatever you feel most pressed to pursue when you get up in the morning is what you believe will bring the most meaning to your life.
Operating behind the scenes in this drama is the fundamental biological directive: You must survive. Failure to recognize the power of this directive is, in my opinion, the single biggest stumbling block to spiritual maturity. Edward O. Wilson puts it like this: "[The] brain is a machine assembled not to understand itself, but to survive." (Note 2)
And this is where the dilemma for those interested in pursuing a spiritual life gets interesting.
If you've been keeping up with these essays, then you already know I believe that, if you claim to be a Christian, then you are declaring that what "should" get you up in the morning is the full-bore all-out pursuit of sacrificial love. Trouble is the biological push for personal survival, plus the cultural rules to pursue success can really gum this up. Pursuit of authentic spiritual maturity is, therefore, no simple task. This is affirmed by the Apostle Paul, whom most of us consider no spiritual slouch:
Sometimes I just don't understand myself. The things I know I should do, I DON'T do. The things I know I shouldn't do, well, those are the very things I DO! (My paraphrase of Romans 7:15)
How does one overcome this dilemma? In a word: Discipline.
There's much more to be said on this subject, but for now I want you to ask yourself these questions:
 If it seems like my faith is not working, could it be that I've underestimated the role that biology and culture are playing in my soul?
 What does get me up in the morning? How does this square with my faith commitments?
 What does keep me awake at night? What do these anxieties tell me about my faith commitments?
 In what ways have my survival and success directives shaped my religion?
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Note 1: This description assumes "good-enough" parents, that is, parents who are not perfect, but who are mature and loving enough to be able to focus on the needs of their children. Many of you reading of this may well have not been born into such a family...
Note 2: Edward O. Wilson, Consilience, (New York: Knoph, 1998), p. 96.
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