If you find God too easily

Thanks Andy for posting this thought/prayer from Thomas Merton:

If I find Him with great ease, perhaps He is not my God.
If I cannot hope to find Him at all, is He my God?
If I find Him wherever I wish, have I found Him?
If He can find me whenever He wishes,
And tells me Who He is and who I am,
And if I then know that He Whom I could not find has found me:
Then I know He is the Lord, my God:
He has touched me with the finger that made me out of nothing.

What are we ministering towards?

Christine Sine raised an interesting question which I have been walking with for a number of days now:

"Don’t you think that pastors and church leaders are preparing us to live in the world they inhabit not the world that most of us live in?"

Given that christians seem to be evacuating the traditional churches in large numbers, one suspects that the question isn't too far from the mark. It's not to do with the style of worship, or the language, or the furniture, but the vision of the world that is carried, and our role within it. Being in full-time ministry, much of my waking time is devoted to thinking about church and ministry matters. If I am not careful, these thoughts become framed without the backdrop of the daily realities faced by most human beings, or risk being disconnected from the issues which permeate broader culture.
Two models of ministry and spirituality come to mind: engagement and withdrawal. We generally aren't very good at melding the two. Over recent decades there has been a tendency to a spiritual activism which leads to burnout on the one hand, or an ascetic spirituality which seems disconnected from the realities of life.
Much of the language of church and faith reflects first century Palestinian realities and experience rather than 21st century society, which is both more affluent, and more globally connected. The tools of trade and the context of community and commerce are vastly different. How to love one's neighbour in a world as connected yet diverse (economically, spiritually, socially, and politically) as ours is deeply perplexing. Yet I have been to (apparently successful) church where not one mention was made of anything outside the building.
Jesus picked up and used the hands-on images of his day to depict the work of God - ploughs, pigs, lilies, mustard seeds... Not many of them resonate with our present experience, although they are somewhere within our knowledge bank. What images of the kingdom resonate in our 21st century environment, and how do they help us imagine God's ideal future? Reflecting on the Navman in my car driving experience is just one example of how we might reconsider our tools as images of God's purposes.
We cannot hope to prepare people to live in their daily world as followers of Jesus without pointing to ways in which present experiences might embody God's call. Some vision of what it means to be a christian in the 21st century workplace, community space, and retail places - amongst others - is part of today's ministry challenges.
What do you think?

Teach Me to Pray

My Lord, I know not what I ought to ask of Thee.
Thou and Thou alone knowest my needs.
Thou lovest me more than I am able to love Thee.
O Father, grant unto me, Thy servant, all which I cannot ask.
For a cross I dare not ask, nor for consolation;
I dare only to stand in Thy presence.
My heart is open to Thee.
Thou seest my needs of which I myself am unaware.
Behold and lift me up!
In Thy presence I stand,
awed and silenced by Thy will and Thy judgments,
into which my mind cannot penetrate.
To Thee I offer myself as a sacrifice.
No other desire is mine but to fulfill Thy will.
Teach me how to pray.
Do Thyself pray within me.
Amen.

- St. Philaret of Moscow

Suffering which perfects?

The passage in Hebrews which speaks of Jesus "having been perfected by suffering" (Heb 2:10) has always been somewhat problematic... "Why is it that Jesus needed to be made perfect in the first place?" was one question it brought to mind. Yet I wonder whether that is the question the author seeks to address in this passage.

In popular thought suffering is rarely regarded as something worth embracing, or of intrinsic value. Popular Western thought regards suffering as something to be avoided at all costs, viewing it as of little innate value. We justify therapeutic cloning, stem cell research, and many other technological advances on the basis that they reduce suffering. What then of the One of whom it is said that the author of salvation as perfected through suffering?

Clearly suffering is not something which is alien to the character of God. Hebrews indicates that Jesus suffered as we do, yet was in no way diminished by that suffering. On the contrary, it indicates that his suffering was an essential aspect of his work of salvation. Through his suffering came salvation for us all. By his suffering we are redeemed, opened to the life of God through His Spirit. This is not to suggest that all suffering is redemptive, nor that all suffering should be embraced. Neither is it to indicate that we ignore the possibility of reducing suffering. Rather, here we are invited to embrace the possibility of redemptive suffering... the knowledge that some of life's hardest lessons - emerging from our deepest suffering - bring us something of great value.

I have read numerous autobiographies in which the writer has outlined a moment of deep grief in their life which has helped them to refocus and appreciate important aspects of life that were lost. Setting aside the penchant towards hagiography, there is truth in the fact that suffering sometimes brings us to face the deeper questions of life and discover something of the eternal once again.

Of droughts and flooding rains...

When the gods want to punish us, they answer our prayers
(Chinese Proverb)

When Australian Prime Minister John Howard made a public appeal for prayer for rain a month or so back, it provoked significant discussion amongst many of my colleagues. Many questioned the motives of the PM, particularly in light of the increasing propensity for Australian politics to court the Christian vote, much in the same way in which American Republicans have managed to successfully garner the conservative Christian vote over the past decade. Others questioned whether it is appropriate to ask for prayer without being prepared to act at the same time in response to the challenges. Given the PM’s very public scepticism in relation to climate change, and unwillingness - or at least reluctance - to embrace any responsibility for reduction in carbon emissions, which are widely regarded as responsible for the changes in weather patterns which are evident throughout the world, and of which the extended Australian drought is just one evidence. The link between repentance (for actions which bring us to the present problem) and prayer was expressed. Then there were those who applauded the willingness of the PM to acknowledge the existence of a ‘higher power’ and a sense of dependence upon God. Other issues (such as cultural sensitivity) served to push the call into the background, many writing it off as a political stunt. Until...

Last week in the Hunter Valley region, torrential rain fell - over 170 mm in 24 hours in some zones - causing severe flooding which resulted in the death of at least seven people and property damage estimated to be in excess of one billion dollars, not to mention the loss of personal property, memories, and disruption to family life. It is an unmitigated national disaster. Where in the world would you find a community in the middle of a drought suffering such flood damage?

But these events brought the PM’s request back onto the national agenda. It began in an innocuous way for me, when a parent at school commented, “we prayed for rain, didn’t we?” when discussing the situation. It is a theme which has been picked up by Philip Adams, and The Chaser team on last night’s show (big file, but you only need to watch the first five minutes).

Which brings us back to the nature of prayer.

Did we pray incorrectly (as some have suggested)? Perhaps we needed to be more specific... indicating what, when and how much. But of course this is absurd. It implies a God who is unknowing and uncaring - one with loads of power but no idea how to use it. Jesus said of our anxiety for the basics of life “your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things,” (Mt 6:32) and that “your Father knows what you need, before you ask Him.” (Mt 6:8) To recast God as a cosmic Santa Claus who needs to be manipulated by numbers or words (weight or choice of), diminishes the very character of God we are seeking to acknowledge and esteem. Are we suggesting that God does not know our need? That he doesn’t know how to provide correctly? Of course not (and I am obviously caricaturing).

The Chinese proverb “When the gods want to punish us they answer our prayers” seems salient in this setting. How is it that we, being mortal beings, are able to cast the consequences of our desires and decisions better than the One whose vision and power is not limited as we? We cry out for rain, thinking that this would be good for us, and then are overwhelmed by it. Having cast drought as the an unmitigated evil, we paint rain as our friend. The reality proves otherwise.

When we journey back through the Bible, we see drought playing an important role from time to time in the purposes of God. It was drought that brought reconciliation between Joseph and his family. It was drought that brought the confrontation between the prophets of Baal and Elijah, ultimately turning Israel’s heart back to God. It was in the desert that Israel was formed for entry into the promised land, and it was in drought that Jeremiah emerged to lead Israel. When we call for rain out of our own sense of need, might we be missing the greater purposes of God?

Which is not to say that it is wrong to pray for rain. My voice has been part of that chorus in prayer for some time. But, when we ask for something, we also need to be aware that God might have a different purpose at work. Prayer is about much more, and much greater things, than simply rolling out our requests before God, who has no need of increasing His personal approval ratings, but is more intent on shaping his kingdom ‘on earth as it is in heaven’. When I pray for rain, I need to listen... to discern whether there is a response of the Spirit of which I am called to be part.

There is little doubt that this extended drought has sharpened our awareness of the impact of our lifestyles on the planet. Would we be as aware of climate change without it? Would we be equally willing to make changes to our lifestyles if we were well-watered? The issue of stewardship of creation is firmly in the forefront of our minds as we contemplate shortages in water, impacts on our river and eco-systems, and the consequences of our increasing reliance on fossil-based fuels. Rather than simply telling God what to do about the drought (“send rain”) ought we not also be asking God what we should be doing? There is a partnership in existence since the dawn of time when in the Garden of Eden responsibility was given to the humans to care for the land which we need to reconsider. Our care has been lacking, and a decent fall of rain isn’t going to solve the continuing problems.

If it comes to the point where, in prayer, we need to be very specific about the amount of rain we want, and where we want God to put it, then we have moved so far from where our relationship with the God who created and redeemed us ought to be. Far from expressing dependence upon God, we are making Him our servant, and at our beck and call. That seems to be the exact opposite of where it ought to be.

Losing the Second Generation

We in the West are in angst about the 'lost generations' in church - generally in the age of 30-55; people who have left the church of their parents, many having abandoned the faith altogether. We have a noted rise in alternative spiritualities, which are often grounded in ancient practices.

The Religion Report of May 16 spends some time analysing the shift away from Catholicism in Central America, a report coinciding with the Pope's visit. While the ratio of priests to Catholics is about 1 to 7000, in evangelical churches it is 1 to 300, going some way to explaining the drift from Catholicism to evangelical and charismatic churches. But that's not the whole story. Michelle Crowther reports:

But the Catholic church's great exodus is not only at the hands of its competitors. In pockets of Latin America, the debate is no longer between different faiths. Many of those who leave choose no organised spiritual alternative. In Guatemala for example, polls since 1990 show about 12% of citizens citing no religious affiliation at all. And in Mexico, 43% of second-generation evangelicals have no affiliation with the church. This is a very important reality check for those Christians who imagine that the future vitality for Christian churches in the 21st century, lies in the developing world. Even in the global south, the trend towards European style secularism is beginning to appear. If 43% of second generation evangelicals have no religious affiliation, it may be that the drift towards these sects is just a staging post on the way towards no religion. If they're being born again in Mexico City, it's into a new life of liberalism.

Which gives pause for thought. Is there something about the charismatic/evangelical commitment to the present/immediacy of God that does not sustain? Catholic rites and practices are steeped in ancient tradition... practices and images embedded in daily life. But while the charismatic/evangelical tradition has perhaps countered some of the 'deadness' which often permeates such ritualistic approaches, one wonders whether the roots have been jettisoned also. What is it that sustains faith? What rituals and images bring us back to our centre? That the second generation charismatics/evangelicals abandon at such a rate suggests the roots are shallow... it parallels the well-travelled "back door" of the church in the West. People don't find it sustaining for the long term.

We might want to point our fingers at the wider culture and indicate that it's a type of spiritual ADHD, consistent with the constant clamour for something new, yet that is often the paradigm of worship and spirituality we have embraced... focussed towards "our needs" at the surface level, but apparently missing something at the deeper.

I am one who finds ritual and repetition to be boring after a short period of time. I gave up on a highly liturgical worship after enjoying it for the first couple of weeks because knowing what was coming, both in words and actions, did not help me engage. Yet I acknowledge the place for ritual and repetition, for the disciplines of the faith which bring us back to the same place and remind us of - and tend to - our roots.

This is a continuing challenge. The Mexican experience highlights a reality we have known in the West, bringing it into stark relief. Where to from here?

Shaped by Images

In the movie Dead Poet’s Society, Robin Williams’ character is a teacher, John Keating, who inspires his students to reflect on the opportunity which stands before them. He takes his students down to the hallowed entrance halls of Welton Academy where pictures of past students adorn the walls. He asks them to look into the faces, look into the eyes, see their dreams, their hopes, and identify with their idealism. And know that they are all dead. He encourages them to “Seize the Day”, knowing that opportunity slips by quickly.
This is but one of many movie scenes which captures my imagination. I am a lover of movies for two reasons: the images they present which implant enduring ideas in our minds, and because movies tell stories. One rabbi once said that God made people because he loves stories.
In an episode of the Simpsons entitled Colonel Homer, Bart takes Lisa into see a horror movie. As one particularly horrific scene is about to be played out, Lisa covers her eyes and tells Bart to let her know when it has passed. Bart tricks her into looking earlier, meeting loud complaints. Bart’s response: “How are you going to be desensitised to this unless you watch it?”
Jerry Mander once argued, quite powerfully, I would suggest, that “we evolve into the images we carry in our minds. We become what we see.” Mander was concerned about the impact of television, but he strikes upon a broader truth we do well to contemplate.
Stories are told of Vietnam Veterans who were surprised during their first real battle that those who were killed did not stand up and walk away, just as they did in every war movie they had seen.
Vincent Van Gogh saw the real world as an imitation of the paintings he saw in the museum.
we evolve into the images we carry in our minds. We become what we see.
When Paul encountered the Christians in Corinth, he drew three very different images of glory: "Jews ask for signs, Greeks search for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified." (1 Cor 1:22-23)

I love this story about a young boy's struggle with maths:
A ten year old boy was finding fifth grade maths to be the challenge of his life. Science? A piece of cake. Geography? No big deal. Spelling? Ha! Give me a break... but MATHS? It was devastating! To not only him, but his mom and dad, too! And not that they weren't doing everything and anything to help their son...Private tutors, peer assistance, CD-Roms, Textbooks, even HYPNOSIS! Nothing worked.
Finally, at the insistence of a family friend, they decided to enrol their son in a private school. Not just ANY private school, but a Catholic school. Nuns. Weekly mass. The whole shootin' match.
Well, the first day of school finally arrived, and dressed in his salt-and-pepper cords and white wool dress shirt and blue cardigan sweater, the youngster ventured out into the great unknown. His mother and father were convinced they were doing the right thing.
They were both there waiting for their son when he returned home. And when he walked in with a stern, focused and very determined expression on his face, they hoped they had made the right choice. He walked right past them and went straight to his room - and quietly closed the door.
For nearly two hours he toiled away in his room - with maths books strewn about his desk and the surrounding floor. He only emerged long enough to eat, and after quickly cleaning his plate, he went straight back to his room, closed the door, and worked feverishly at his studies until bedtime. This pattern continued ceaselessly until it was time for the first quarter report card.
After school, the boy walked into the home with his report card, unopened, in his hand. Without a word, he dropped the envelope on the family dinner table and went straight to his room. His parents were petrified. What lay inside the envelope? Success? Failure? DOOM?!?
Patiently, cautiously the mother opened the letter, and to her amazement, she saw a bright red "A" under the subject, MATHS. Overjoyed, she and her husband rushed into their son's room, thrilled at the remarkable progress of their young son!
"Was it the nuns that did it?", the father asked. The boy only shook his head and said, "No."
"Was it the one-on-one tutoring? The peer-mentoring?", asked the mother.
Again, the boy shrugged, "No."
"The textbooks? The teacher? The curriculum?" asked the father.
"Nope," said the son. "It was all very clear to me from the very first day of Catholic school."
"How so?" asked his mom.
"When I walked into the lobby, and I saw that guy they'd nailed to the plus sign, I knew they meant business!"

Sometimes we have questioned our Catholic brothers and sisters who cherish crucifixes, largely because we want to remind everyone that Christ is risen. But this did not seem to be a problem to Paul: "we want to preach Christ crucified," he said. There was something about this image which Paul wanted to be implanted firmly upon the brains of the Corinthians. It would be a recurring theme throughout the epistle. It’s not that Paul didn’t believe in the resurrection – there is a powerful argument for it in chapter 15. It is just that Paul wanted to counter a misconception in the Corinthian church about what it meant to follow Jesus. And the powerful corrective was the crucified Jesus. The enduring image for the Christian was Christ crucified. We evolve into the images we carry in our minds. We become what we see.

We might ask ourselves where in history is the most powerful moment of the revelation of God? Perhaps the Exodus? The Ten Commandments? Elijah on Mount Carmel? David and Goliath? Paul would answer unequivocally: the cross of Jesus Christ: the place where the centurion declared, “Truly this man was the Son of God”; the time when the temple curtain was torn in two. It was for this reason that Paul wants the cross of Christ to be an enduring image in our minds. It reveals something central to the character of God, and to our own formation.

The cross of Jesus stands in the way of triumphalism – which was certainly a problem in the Corinthian church, where it was the powerful and influential who were most admired, and for this reason Paul, with his infirmities struggled to gain acceptance as an apostle. It stands behind arguments about who was baptised by whom (which appear earlier in the chapter).

Paul did not regard the cross as an aberration on the way to the resurrection, nor that the resurrection denied the validity of the cross - the place where the cry of abandonment ("My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?") becomes the most poignant moment of revelation in human history. The resurrection of Jesus is an affirmation of the cross: the heavenly hand affirming that Jesus by his death was revealing something about God.

This is an important image to hold on to. If the death of Christ becomes a focus of God’s revelation, what does it say about our own struggles and suffering? We discover God not bydenying these realities, but by facing them. God’s power is at work in the cross of Christ, and is equally at work in the frustrations and deaths of our own circumstances. We do not need to look out of these to find God, but to look into them, and walk through them. So that even when we encounter the risen Jesus, he bears the marks of crucifixion. He is the crucified one who has been raised. In resurrection he remains who he always was.

Rabbi Zusya tells a story to his followers as the one which has most moved him to tears. He pictures himself in a dream coming to the gates of heaven, and finds that God does not ask him, “Why have you not been more like Abraham?” or “Why have you not been more like Moses?” Instead God asks him, “Why weren't you Zusya?”

Paul asks us to carry at the forefront of our minds an image of Jesus crucified: a reminder that the Lord of the church is true to his character as the one who walked the streets of Galilee and became the crucified one. Foolishness, yes, but an image which reminds us that - as ones who follow in the footsteps of Jesus - our call is to be ourselves, walking in the purposes of God. Walking in all our brokenness, in the depths of our questions and struggles, in moments of abandonment as well as triumph.

We evolve into the images we carry in our minds. We become what we see.

What is the image of yourself you see most? What is the image of Jesus?

Mis en Place

Since reading Fernando’s reflection on the concept of Mis en Place, itself inspired by The Happiness Project, I have been contemplating its implications. For the uninitiated, mis en place is a cooking concept which refers to the process of careful preparation which allows a chef to give full attention to the process of mixing ingredients and cooking. Every ingredient, every tool and bowl, every machine is prepared before starting… in this way the task can move smoothly to its completion (which explains why those cooking shows make everything look so easy – the work of preparation is completed in advance). As Fernando indicates, professional chefs are pedantic about this, providing as it does a way through the anarchic chaos which professional kitchens often appear.

By taking this concept and reflecting on it in relation to our own creativity and spirituality, Fernando triggered some deep thoughts within, particularly as I have often pondered the place of discipline in a vital Christian spirituality. People of my generation tend to regard discipline with suspicion, regarding it as a recipe for stifling individuality and limiting both creativity and realisation of potential. Yet as I have considered the sporting field, the lie of these assumptions is exposed. Most of us are in thrall at the creative capabilities of elite sports personnel. They can push boundaries, create opportunities and respond with flair only because they have applied the concept of mis en place to their lives: they have put all the work to ensure that the skills, capabilities and fitness is there to draw on at the critical moment. Discipline releases creativity. It enables endurance. It reassures one that, in the critical moments, there are resources to draw upon, well-rehearsed skills and patterns, and a repertoire of options available.

In the spiritual journey the items of mis en place may well be prayer, study, reflection, journaling, meditation, fasting, stillness, service... among the many classic spiritual disciplines available to us from history. Such time of preparation is not wasted, even when the ingredients are not employed in the immediate situation. Such practices serve to deepen our humanity and expand our being, sending deep roots which can nurture and nourish us at the most surprising times.

Lent (2)

Lent is the season when we look at our way of life with hope:
to see it as God sees it, both in its present reality,
and its future possibilities

Lent

The season of "giving up". One could give up sacrifice... I could give up smoking! Or give up giving up... So many jokes about Lent and making sacrifices which mean nothing. One could be forgiven that we have trivialised Lent in a whole range of ways, particularly when it comes down to sacrificing small things which do not touch the core of who we are and of that which shapes us most.
I wonder whether we might give up credit cards, or television. For some that might be more challenging. How about giving up the computer? Arrgghhh! Could I really survive? One writer suggested giving up supermarkets.
The original focus was food related, which is why the last day before Lent commences is Shrove Tuesday/Pancake Tuesday. It was the feast which removed all flour from the house: the symbolic leaven which turns our focus towards purification. If food was the major symbol of that which distracts us from God in ancient times, we might ask where our poverty lies today: time? technology? consumerism? How can we adopt a purifying approach to that which dilutes our humanity most and reminds us of our dependence upon God, or at least creates space for us to give this greater consideration. Perhaps a greater commitment to recycling, eating locally produced foods, leaving a smaller footprint upon the planet... So many challenges, choosing one could be life-giving in so many unexpected ways.

Magicians employ the art of distraction to turn the eyes of their audience away from the "real event" so that the end result appears 'like magic'. The technique is effective, so much so that we miss what really happens. Psychologists have conducted tests which demonstrate this power of distraction, whereby the audience misses a man in a bear suit walking across the middle of the picture because they are 'distracted' counting balls.
It is amazing how often this distraction occurs when we read the text of scripture, brought home powerfully last night as we reflected on the beatitude: "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness for they shall be satisfied". The distraction in the beatitude is the word "righteousness", one which doesn't get good press these days. Particularly when it is combined with the word 'satisfied', and its implied partner 'self'. We typically begun by analysing the word righteousness, and what it means. Last night we turned it around, focussing on the last word "satisfied".
What is it that offers us satisfaction today? The Rolling Stones seems to have made a modern anthem of its tune "(Can't Get No) Satisfaction". In spite of the burgeoning consumer culture, whereby we earn 5 times what our parents did, live in larger houses with smaller families, and have much more in our possession and at our disposal, we aren't exhibiting the same level of satisfaction that the advertisers suggest these products will bring. In fact, the situation is quite the opposite... The incidence of mental illness has increased ten-fold, the top ten diseases affecting young men in Australia are either psychological disorders or substance-abuse, nearly one in four Americans is taking mood-altering drugs, and anxiety and depression is regarded as an epidemic. In the midst of prosperity, we have “spent ourselves sick”, according to Clive Hamilton in his book Affluenza. Satisfaction clearly does not come from the sources our consumer culture suggests.
When we accept that the present focus for satisfaction falls short, we are forced back the first part of the Beatitude: where do we find satisfaction? In a hunger and thirst for righteousness. Not by being (self-)righteous, but through a desire for righteousness. Here we are faced again with the example of Jesus, who pushes us away from traditional understandings of righteousness (all the way through the Sermon on the Mount, and throughout the Gospels) into a new place: where we follow his example: service, love, giving... In other words the focus of satisfaction is found not in trying to obtain it for ourselves, but to work for others.
I would suggest that the many things our consumer culture suggests we go out and obtain for ourselves are really by-products. We do not gain love by forcing or demanding it from others, we receive it by giving. We find happiness not by looking for what makes us happy, but by working for the happiness of others. We do not find hope alone or selfishly, but by living hope for others. These things are by-products.
In the same way, satisfaction is a by-product of hungering and thirsting for righteousness... by choosing an alternate pathway to the consumerist culture. In some senses it is a bit like turning the canoe around in a fast-flowing stream and seeking to row back to the source... we will find ourselves making little headway initially, and tiring easily. But hungering and thirsting to go another way is the first step. Simply going with the flow keeps us on the same course. The destination may be elusive, but if we are facing the right way, we are closer to reaching it than otherwise.
Satisfaction - itself an elusive term - becomes the window to understanding this Beatitude. By realising that the present system doesn't offer it, we are forced to look into alternatives, which is perhaps Jesus' point. The Sermon on the Mount goes a long way towards redefining righteousness away from the unsatisfying models we are all familiar with. It certainly isn't made easy, but it offers a pathway of hope, and life.

Be Like Jesus

John Smulo has created an interesting perspective on what it means to be like Jesus.

1. Get baptized by the craziest guy in town.
2. Say and do things that are guaranteed to make religious people want to kill you. Repeat again, and again, and again, and again, and again—don’t stop unless forced.
3. Do amazing things for people and ask them to not tell anyone.
4. Hang out with the most despised, marginalized, looked down upon, and shunned people you can find.
5. When possible, forgive and restore people, even if they betrayed you.
6. Live in a way that provokes gossip.
7. Win the most grace competition.
8. Keep the party going.
9. Serve people (note: nose plugs may be required).
10. If you’re sad cry.
11. Empower people to do the extraordinary.
12. Act like a rock star in a hotel temple.
13. Radically simplify theology.
14. Break human-made religious laws. Repeat consistently.
15. Prioritize the most important over the important.
16. Let women with “questionable” backgrounds pay your bills.

Some interesting additions in his comments also.