An article which I wrote with my Pappy, Len Schmidt, for PRISM magazine. See the beginning of the text below; click on the link at the end to link to the magazine and read the entire article. Images are from the blog of PRISM magazine.

WHAT’S WRONG WITH BEING COMFORTABLE?

IN PRAISE OF THE MUCH-MALIGNED “COMFORT ZONE”

by Len and David Schmidt / original illustrations by Caitlin Ng

No matter where we turn these days, we seem to run into a preacher telling us that we need to “get out of our comfort zone.” The exhortation is often couched in positive terms: “You can do it! God wants you to move out of your comfort zone and into your faith zone!” Sometimes, however, the message contains darker undertones and nearly threatening implications: If you’re in your comfort zone, if you’re using your natural talents and gifts and feel fulfilled doing so, watch out…God just might take it all away from you.

To be sure, at certain times in life we definitely need to move beyond our personal comforts. The “comfort zone” becomes a problem when we fall into complacency and laziness, when we trust in our material abundance as if it were eternal, when we assume our spiritual life no longer has any room for improvement.  We must stretch ourselves to pursue worthwhile goals, to help others in need, and to answer even the most delightful calls on our lives—a marriage, for example, or a cross-country move for a new job. Most importantly, getting out of our unhealthy comfort zones is an integral part of spiritual growth. When we move beyond our customary patterns, ruts, addictions, habits, and dysfunctional relationships, it almost always feels uncomfortable—but it is always worth it in the end. As C. S. Lewis once said, “The blows of [God’s] chisel which hurt us so much are what make us perfect.”

If all we meant by the “comfort zone” were a state of indifferent complacency, it would make sense to always set our sights beyond it. Many preachers cast a broader net with the term, however, suggesting that we should make a conscious effort to be uncomfortable for the sake of being uncomfortable—that discomfort is a desirable state to inhabit...

Click this link to read the entire article:

http://prismmagazine.org/whats-wrong-with-being-comfortable/ 

On the Heavenly Realm, and Other Unpleasantries

Will there be any stars in my crown, in my crown?

-Old folk hymn

No not one, no not one…

-Slightly less old folk hymn

* * * * *

Sunday School teachers say the stupidest shit sometimes.

Miss Smitchens told us that God had a wife. No further explanation was needed—little Scotty asked if God had a wife Up There, and she responded, without further extrapolation, “Yes, and her name is Heather”.

I think that was the time I saw Miss Smitchens’ slip sticking out from under her wool skirt. I knew God didn’t want me looking at the teacher’s slip, or feeling the way I felt when I saw her underwear. That wasn’t the way an eight year old was supposed to feel toward his Sunday School teacher; it was the way God was supposed to feel toward His wife.

I felt guilty…but I couldn’t stop staring.

Miss Smitchens’ favorite topic was the Afterlife. She described the glories of New Jerusalem to us, how everything was so beautiful that they could afford to pave the streets with gold and still balance the budget of municipal expenses every year.

On a different Sunday while the grown-ups were in Big People’s Church learning some virtuous lesson from the Beatitudes, Miss Smitchens explained to us kids that when we all went to Heaven, each of us would get a crown; we would have a star in that crown for every person we had converted to Christianity.

My first thought was, that’s bullshit. I didn’t have access to anything close to the sort of mass communication network that someone like Billy Graham had at their disposal. It was anything but a level playing field. Not fair.

Eventually, though, I resigned myself to the fact that I wasn’t going to get any stars in my heavenly crown. I figured I’d settle for serving coffee to the people who had stars in their crown, and I’d be OK with it. I mean, even in Heaven, someone had to wait on the people who really deserved to be there.

Besides, I figured, most of them would probably be dicks about the whole crown thing anyway, and maybe I could spit into their coffee when they weren’t looking. Someone would have to take them down a notch every now and then.