What does this mean for you and me? What should our children, grandchildren, and their children take away from this? Let's not just believe what Jesus believed about himself but also follow his example of how to have faith in ourselves. We should embody what is true about us, and our actions should spring from our unique identities. Easier said than done, right? 

I'm seeking insights to share with others: my children, grandchildren, and their children. Instead of contradictions, I want to provide them with truths that could enhance their lives and spark their curiosity about eternal concepts. 

For now, my only insight is the often unrecognized truth of uncertainty. We know, but don't like to acknowledge, that we live in an uncertain universe, each with an uncertain number of days. Yet here we are, with a brain that wants answers and a psyche that craves what it cannot have: certainty.

In that “lonely place," Jesus finds the courage to say, "Let's go!” As he passes by, I imagine him slowing down, looking my way, and asking, "Where is your lonely place?” Then it strikes me: withdrawal must be a conscious act, especially these days when our lives resemble an arcade’s constant noise and flashing lights more than a space of solitude. Like Jesus, I must withdraw and retreat to my own "lonely place” to hone the skill of hearing the voice within and the courage to say, “Let’s go!”

Those who have accomplished great things know how to use the most difficult two-letter word in English - no. Steve Jobs of Apple once said he was as proud of the things Apple hasn’t done as the things they have. "Innovation," he says, "is saying no to 1000 things.” Mahatma Gandhi said, “A ‘no’ uttered from the deepest conviction is better than a ‘yes’ uttered merely to please – or worse, to avoid trouble.”  

In December 1955, a seamstress boarded a bus and took her seat. As the bus filled up, the driver ordered her to give up her seat. Even though there were laws about this, she quietly but firmly said, “No." Was she too tired? She later explained, “The only tired I was, was tired of giving in.”

So, what's in it for Jesus? Jesus has spent time trying to open the imagination of his Jewish brothers so that they see God not as a distant, heavenly ruler but as a closely connected father and the messiah, not as an emerging, earthly ruler but an ordinary man with God within him. His teaching emphasized a profound connection with God (“The Father and I are one”) and with others (“My sheep hear my voice”), a connection that would lead to a fulfilling life. He modeled this life of connection and contribution, approaching each encounter, whether Nicodemus, the woman at the well, the hungry 5000, or the man born blind, with the question, “How can I enhance the life of the person in front of me?” So, what was the payoff for Jesus?

"Connection" was central to Jesus' life and teaching. His oft-repeated words "the father and I are one" and "my sheep hear my voice and follow me” show the significance of connection - upward to his father and outward to people. His most crucial commandment echoed, "Love the Lord, your God, and love your neighbor as yourself.” He could have said, “Connect with the Father and connect with your neighbor.” Connect with your wife. Connect with your children. Connect with your boss and coworkers. The magic is not “in me” or “in them” but in the “connection.” 

"Is this the right baby," I thought as we walked into the hospital room in 2017 and got our first glimpse of Millie. I was expecting another "Murray Girl" with blonde if any, hair, Blue eyes, and fair complexion. The expectation was well founded. Karen and I had three daughters who fit that description, and I just thought our granddaughter would, too.

A concluding thought to my grandchildren and their children: Jesus spent time in silence, listening for the timeless word and putting it into action in his daily life. He chose not to start a new religion but to model a new way of living. It wasn't about a new organization but following him and his way of living. He dared to believe that there was an infinite intelligence that put the universe in motion and that man could become one with that intelligence. That caused trouble then; It causes trouble today. 

Why does Jesus start with the entrance? Because the entrance indicates my intentions, and for Jesus, intentions are everything. Intentions are the starting line for thoughts, ideas, actions, habits, and character. He would say, "What's in the heart that counts!” Here, they only come in two flavors: good and bad. Am I a good leader or a bad leader? 

To personalize it, let me stand with the Pharisees and hear the story through a parent's ears. (but I could substitute any leadership role.) Shepherd or Bandit? Am I a good parent or a bad parent? Jesus is asking me to question my intentions continually. Is my heart turned toward them or me?

The word judgment, translated into English, comes from the idea of smoke clearing away so that someone may see adequately and make an informed decision or opinion. 

One of the side effects of certainty, or being so sure that we are right, is twisting and turning things to make them fit into life as we have always known it. We view them through our filter and force-fit them into our template. Sometimes, they fit; sometimes, they don’t.

Contemplating that blank space between these two sentences causes the hot water of my imagination to reach the boiling point, and the questions pop up like bubbles in the steam. What happened between the end of chapter 8 and the beginning of chapter 9? Was it overnight? How many nights? Did he spend them alone, like he did before? Did he spend this time praying and meditating? My working theory: It was at least one night, and he was alone and spent it in prayer and meditation. 

I love watching Simone Biles stick the landing and the high jumpers and pole vaulters bounce off the mat and raise their arms after clearing the bar. I shout, "Yes!" as if I have done it myself.

It's time to go into the linchpin verses of John’s story (8:31-32), and I'm just not ready. These verses are as crucial as John 3:16, and I must be prepared. It seems like I've left something important in the previous segments and verses, and I need to find out what it is. Do you know that feeling you get on a trip and think you might've left something important at home? And you're just not satisfied until you sort through everything and know for sure.

Remember the scene in The Secret Life of Pets where Sweet Pea, the green and yellow parakeet, has Chloe, the self-absorbed fat cat, chasing the light from a laser pointer? Hold that thought.

There's a Mary Engelbreit cartoon that says, "Life is just so DAILY.” There are days, like today, I would rather do anything else than sit here writing. There are days when I skip meditation. Days when I'm not sure I understand anything about this at all.

This thought appeared while I was silently sitting statue-still and listening expectantly to the drip, drip, drip of that 2nd K-cup. What would it look like if I took a sheet of paper and a #2 pencil and drew a line representing my life? From a distance, it may appear straight and rising ever so slightly. You know, onward and upward. But from the inside and at close range, there would have to be those lifts and dips.

But why does John want me to hear this rallying cry? I can't unhear it. I can't unring the bell. Over and over, I hear, “Out of the believer’s heart shall flow rivers of living water.” What do I do with this internal rallying cry? Lao Tzu would respond, “At the center of your being, you have the answer; you know who you are and you know what you want.” Steve Jobs would say, “Don’t let the noise of others’ opinions drown out your own inner voice.”

"We could never be friends," I thought as the guy walked by with profanity tattooed up his arm around his neck. "Who would do that?" I want to tell you that later, I got beyond these things, and we got to know each other and are now "best buds,” but that didn't happen. I wrote the man off without a second thought. Was this an isolated incident? Nah, I’m sure I've done the same thing in far less extreme situations.

We look for credentials and ask questions like, “Who was your teacher?" Or “Where did you go to school, and what degrees do you have?" We can expect the same reaction from others when we speak from our spiritual consciousness and beyond the borders of our education and their expectations. "Without the free flow of the Holy Spirit,” Richard Rohr says, “religion becomes a tribal sorting system, spending much time trying to define who's in, and who's out – who's right and who's wrong. And surprise, we're always on the side of the right! What are the odds?”