Problems

For the past 100 years, the 90,000 residents of Santa Fe, New Mexico, have participated in a unique annual ritual: the burning of Zozobra. With a budget of just over one million dollars, the city constructs a towering 50-foot papier-mâché effigy, which is set ablaze as the crowd chants, “Burn him!” The purpose is to symbolically purge the community of its collective anxieties.

As described by the New York Times, Zozobra is imagined as a beast from the nearby mountains, lured into town under the guise of a celebration. Dressed in formal attire, Zozobra “thrusts the town into darkness and takes away ‘the hopes and dreams of Santa Fe’s children.’” The townspeople attempt to subdue him, but it’s only when the Fire Spirit-summoned by the unity of the citizens-arrives that Zozobra is ultimately defeated by fire.

The ritual’s goal is to literally incinerate the worries and troubles of Santa Fe’s residents. Before the burning, people stuff the effigy with written notes of their anxieties, medical bills, report cards, parking tickets, and even loved ones’ ashes. The act of burning these items serves as a powerful symbol of letting go.

Fire, both historically and in this ritual, represents destruction and renewal. It “eliminates dead vegetation and enriches soil, promoting new growth; it rejuvenates via destruction.” By channeling fire through ritual, people hope to gain control over the cycle of death and rebirth, using flames as a metaphorical reset button. The burning of Zozobra unites the community in optimism, offering a chance to vanquish the undesirable and begin anew each year.

In an article in The Atlantic, Derek Thompson explores “How Anxiety Became Content.” He reveals that this new “genre” on social media is surging. The TikTok hashtag #Trauma has more than six billion views and over 5,500 podcasts have the word “trauma” in their title. Thompson suggests that our consumption of such material may be backfiring. He writes:

Darby Saxbe, a clinical psychologist at the University of Southern California, said that for many young people, claiming an anxiety crisis or post-traumatic stress disorder has become like a status symbol. Saxbe said, “I worry that for some people, it’s become an identity marker that makes people feel special and unique. That’s a big problem because this modern idea that anxiety is an identity gives people a fixed mindset, telling them this is who they are and will be in the future.”

On the contrary, she said, therapy works best when patients come into sessions believing that they can get better. That means believing that anxiety is treatable, modifiable, and malleable—all the things a fixed identity is not.

She went on to say, “I’m very pro-therapy. ... But we may have overcorrected from an era when mental health was shameful to talk about to an era when some vulnerable people surround themselves with conversations and media about anxiety and depression. This makes them more vigilant about symptoms and problems, which makes them more likely to problematize normal daily stress. In turn this makes them move toward a (mindset) where they think there is always something wrong with them that needs their attention, which causes them to pull back from social engagement, which causes even more distress and anxiety.”

Kathryn Buchanan was driving to work when she heard horrific news on the radio: Twenty-two people were killed in a suicide bombing at an Ariana Grande concert in Manchester, England. Tears immediately streamed down her face and Buchanan later said, “That was really heartbreaking.”

Amid the deluge of devastating headlines about the event in May 2017, Buchanan noticed that “there was some coverage around all of the kindness that followed in the aftermath.” It gave her some sense of relief. For instance, people offered shelter, food, and rides to total strangers. Locals lined the streets to donate blood after the deadly attack. Cabdrivers handed out food and offered free rides.

Buchanan is a psychology professor at the University of Essex. She said, “I became very emotional and grateful that there was still goodness out there against the backdrop of horror.” Reading stories of kindness instilled a sense of hope in her that had been lost after hearing about the attack.

She began to contemplate whether being exposed to heartwarming content could counteract the known negative impacts of consuming harrowing news stories. Common symptoms include heightened stress, hopelessness, anger, anxiety, and depression. So, she started a years-long study in 2017, which was published in May of 2023.

Repeatedly throughout the research, Buchanan saw that uplifting news can provide an emotional buffer against distressing news. Buchanan also found that “there’s something special about kindness in particular.” She noted that while amusing stories diminished the effects of upsetting news, stories about acts of kindness were even more powerful.

Buchanan said, that the solution is not to avoid negative news, because “actually ignoring news all together can leave you feeling disconnected from the world you’re living in …. Following news stories that feature others’ kindness has a real set of emotional and cognitive benefits for people. It serves as a kind of reset button that allows us to have this faith in humanity.”

Possible Preaching Angle:

In a world focused on the latest disaster, despair, and the universal feeling that our nation is headed in the wrong direction, imagine the positive effects of telling people of the kindness, goodness, grace, and love of God for them. Thanksgiving would be an excellent opportunity for this kind of witness to people in despair.

Navy Seal Admiral, William McRaven, talks about an important lesson Seals learn: Think first of others. In an interview with AARP, he said:

I like to tell the story of Sgt. Maj. Chris Faris, my right-hand man in Afghanistan. One day, I did a Zoom call with my doctor, and she told me I’d been diagnosed with cancer. I needed to go back to the States immediately to have my spleen removed and start chemotherapy. She added, “Your military career is probably over.”

When I got back to my office, Chris was there, and he noticed something wasn’t right. After I told him, he said, “OK, boss, we’ve got the morning briefing coming up, and you need to be there. The troops are counting on you.”

So, we did the video teleconference with thousands of our team members around the world. And before I could say anything, Chris asked someone to put up a list of the people who’d been injured in combat the night before. Then he gave me a look, and I knew what it meant. I had a problem, but it paled in comparison to what these young men and women were going through. That was exactly the right thing to tell me at the time. It helped put my minor problem in perspective.

Suppose you were exploring an unknown glacier in the north of Greenland in the dead of winter. Just as you reach a sheer cliff with a spectacular view of miles and miles of jagged ice and snow covered mountains, a terrible storm breaks in. The wind is so strong that the fear arises that it might blow you and your party right over the cliff. But in the midst of it you discover a cleft in the ice where you can hide. Here you feel secure, but the awesome might of the storm rages on and you watch it with a kind of trembling pleasure as it surges out across the distant glaciers.

At first, there was the fear that this terrible storm and awesome terrain might claim your life. But then you found a refuge and gained the hope that you would be safe. But not everything in the feeling called fear vanished. Only the life-threatening part. There remains the trembling, the awe, the wonder, the feeling that you would never want to tangle with such a storm or be the adversary of such a power.

God’s power is behind the unendurable cold of Arctic storms. Yet he cups his hand around us and says, “Take refuge in my love and let the terrors of my power become the awesome fireworks of your happy night sky.”

Writing in the Atlantic, author and researcher Arthur C. Brooks says, “Money is one of the things Americans worry about most in the world.”

One survey found that even when the US economy is thriving more than half of Americans felt anxious or insecure about money sometimes, often, or all the time. And during the COVID pandemic, another survey found that workers were almost five times more likely to worry about money than their health.

But many of us really don’t need to worry about money. Only 11 percent of Americans live in poverty. And yet, according to a recent survey, more than half of Millennials with a net worth greater than $1 million feared losing their wealth “a great deal” or “somewhat,” as did more than a third of similarly wealthy Baby Boomers.

Brooks concludes, “For millions of people, then, worrying about money is not a reflection of whether their basic needs are being met. In fact, this anxiety reflects deeper concerns that money can’t solve.”

At the end of her freshman year at the University of Tampa, Kira Rumfola packed her bags and headed to the airport with her favorite roommate: a colorful betta fish named Theo. Kira, 19, was headed home to Long Island for the summer and was happy to be bringing home the little fish that she had bonded with. She figured there would be no problem taking Theo onboard the plane in a small portable fish carrier. She said, “I’d done it before over the holidays with another airline, so I filled the container with water and put Theo in it.”

But there was a problem. While she was checking in, a customer service agent Ismael Lazo noticed the fish and explained to Kira that the airline’s pet policy allowed only small dogs and cats onboard in carriers. No other pets are permitted on planes.

Kira said, “All of my roommates had already gone home for the summer and I had nobody to leave Theo with. “I was really sad and wondered what I was going to do. He’s my pet.”

Lazo said he understood Rumfola’s concern for Theo. “I have two dogs—I wouldn’t want to abandon them somewhere. How about if I take your fish home to live with me and my fiancée until you come back for college in the fall? You can text me over the summer to see how he’s doing whenever you like.”

Kira’s face lit up, Lazo said. Right away, he felt good about his unusual offer. Kira promised she would check in often over the summer to see how Theo was faring in his temporary home.

As soon as she arrived home in New York, she texted Lazo: “Hi Ismael, it’s the girl from the airport with the fish! I was just wondering how he is doing.” Lazo quickly responded: “Hey! We are heading to the store to buy him a bigger tank.”

Lazo said that he didn’t feel sad when Kira returned to classes in late August and it was time to reunite her with Theo. “To be honest, I was worried about something happening to him on our watch. So, I was happy for Kira to have him back.”

When Rumfola went to Lazo’s apartment to pick up the fish, she gave him and his fiancée a store gift card and some candy as a gesture of thanks.

In June of 1992, Gloria Davey and a few friends were walking in the English countryside. When they stopped for a rest, they discovered a ruined church (from the bombings of World War I). The church had been desecrated by satanic symbols. When she told her husband Bob, a church leader at another nearby church, he was horrified at what he saw. That moment, the recently retired Bob made a decision that would dominate his life for the next 22 years. He would restore St Mary’s Church.

He said, “You couldn’t see the tower, and there was no roof, windows or floor — nothing, really. But I felt it was my duty to save it. This annoyed me intensely. I've been a Christian all my life and wasn't putting up with this on my watch.” He walked inside—the door was long gone—and that afternoon started clearing out 60 years’ worth of rubbish. For 22 years he was at the site early every day “except on days of family christenings and weddings,” says Bob, who has four children, six grandchildren, and a great-grandchild.

He added, “I haven’t had a holiday in 22 years, but I haven’t wanted one. Who wants to retire? My advice to others: don’t play golf or buy a Spanish villa when you retire. Find yourself a ruined church to save!” Bob hasn’t just saved the church. He also uncovered a unique set of wall paintings, the earliest in Britain and some of the finest in Europe.

Bob faced stiff resistance. The satanists sent him a message: “If you continue to come here, I’ll kill you.” Bob said he wasn’t frightened. “I’ll come in an electric trolley if I have to.” And until his death in 2021 at the age of 91, that’s exactly what Bob Davey did.

During COVID-19, New York City residents started moving into the country. The 13,000-plus member Facebook group “Into the Unknown” unites people “who have decided or are considering to join the exodus from NYC to greener pastures.” But the grass has not been greener on the other side of the fence. According to one report, “City dwellers, who retreated to rural areas in the pandemic, now see drawbacks, from pests and social isolation to the difficulty of finding day care and health care.”

For instance, Tara Silberberg, 53, moved from Brooklyn to the Hudson Valley and was knocked back by the feeling of alienation. Born in New York, in May 2020 Ms. Silberberg and her husband left the city and moved to the small rural town of Gallatin, New York. She told reporters, “I was not quite prepared for how lonely it was going to be, and I’m very social.” In the first year of her family’s Massachusetts sojourn, the 1930s gravity-fed water system broke “and nobody knew how to fix it and we didn’t have water for a year,” she recalled. “I understood that the country doesn’t mean it’s always picking daisies.”

No wonder, then, that many of these rural dwellers pulled up stakes once again and returned to the city—or are hoping to do so. But that may pose some new problems because New York’s real estate market is once again booming.

Pastor Corey Brooks spent much of the winter (of 2022) on a roof top in south Chicago sleeping in a tent. He hoped to raise awareness and resources for the South Side neighborhoods, ravaged by poverty and violence.

On the 120th day of the vigil, Brooks was joined by two other pastors Karl Clauson and Mark Jobe (the president of Moody Bible Institute). He began his conversation by asking why Jesus is the key to filling the void in peoples’ lives and transforming them for the better. In response, Jobe told this story:

I’ll take you back a few years. I'm not going to mention what mayor it was, but it was one of the mayors of the city of Chicago who came to our church. There had just been a couple of execution-style murders in the city of Chicago, and I could tell this mayor was just down. He looked at a group of maybe 40 pastors that had gathered together and he said this: “Our city is in a mess. There's violence. We don't have the answers to this. We can try to police it. We can try to educate it. We can try to create business opportunities, but we have a soul problem in this city.” And he said, “Gentlemen and ladies, what you have to offer is really the answer.” Here is the mayor of Chicago admitting our structures can't change this. This is a spiritual and soul problem. I believe that.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Our cities have a problem. It can't be policed, educated, or employed away. It is a soul problem with a sole answer. The answer is the gospel.

In a recent issue of Wired, Zak Jason writes:

In the 2003 Major League Baseball season, Oreo Queefs stood five-foot-zero, weighed 385 pounds, and, impossibly, stole 214 bases, obliterating the century-old single-season record of 138. A walrus with the legs of a cheetah, Queefs also regularly blasted the ball 500 feet to the opposite field. Over just two seasons with the Florida Marlins, he batted .680, hit 203 home runs, and was ejected for charging the mound 46 times. Then, before even reaching his super alien prime, Queefs vanished into thin air.

A few weeks ago, I received a text from the Marlins manager about what happened to the former Golden Glove winner. Queefs has fallen on hard times. The now 43-year-old lives with his uncle in a rented trailer in Nevada, where they run a failing off-off-Strip sausage stand called Queefs’ Kielbasa Kiosk. He is twice divorced, hasn’t seen his 15-year-old son in 12 years, and is on probation for attempted robbery of a bait-and-tackle shop.

In reality, Oreo Queefs exists only on a PlayStation 2 memory card, now likely corroding in a landfill. The manager is my childhood friend Chris, onetime owner of the EA Sports game MVP Baseball 2003. We conceived Queefs one summer night the only way two 13-year-old boys know how: (via) the game’s Create-a-Player screen. We chose his height, weight, speed, and batting hot zones. We watched with pride as he eviscerated the league. I haven’t played any of these games in a decade, but over the years my friends and I have updated one another on the lives of our created characters. They’ve all plummeted from glory.

The media has been overanalyzing why millennials can’t grow up ever since the oldest millennials have been legal grown-ups. Still, I can’t help but take the fact that at 32—an age when Jesus Christ was leading his friends and much of humanity to eternal salvation—my friends and I text one another during the workday about the video game characters we created when we were teenagers.

The writer Sam Anderson recently quipped that “the world of sports media is basically where American men go to avoid therapy.” As kids, we lived our dreams vicariously through video game characters record-shattering successes. As adults, we process our real setbacks and failures through their imagined setbacks and failures.

Layoffs, anxieties, illnesses, divorce, fertility issues—these are a few of the realities of adulthood that men are generally less than forthcoming about. Instead of discussing these directly, they cope through abstraction. When we talk about our created characters becoming has-beens, we’re (childishly) saying we’re not children anymore. When we bring them up, they finally open the door for us to talk intimately about struggles in our own lives. These children of our childhood are now ad hoc therapists of adulthood.

One of the historical wonders of the beautiful country of Sri Lanka, is the complex rock fortress, Sigiriya (see-gee-ree-yah), and the palace built on it many centuries ago. It is an amazing place to see and tourists flock there to view its beauty, grandeur, and craftsmanship. Among the highlights of Sigiriya are the frescoes that are painted on the rock walls. These and the site itself are considered National treasures, with UNESCO listing Sigiriya as a world heritage site.

Many years ago, some of the frescoes were vandalized by an unknown group of people, with either ink or paint being thrown to deface them. As a result, many experts had to be brought in to restore these frescoes back to their original state. Thankfully, they succeeded in their painstaking efforts.

Similarly, we as God’s people sometimes go through crushing and damaging experiences. At such times, it looks like nothing much is happening when we pray and sometimes as if nothing is happening at all! These can be extremely trying periods. However, if we walk close to God during such challenging times, we will find that he is still in the business of restoring the damaged periods of our lives. These seasons need never be “wasted seasons,” if we allow God’s purposes to be accomplished in our lives.

God says, “I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten” (Joel 2:5).

There are the toddlers who color with permanent marker all over the wall or decide a sibling needs a haircut. Then, there is Leo Belnap, a two-year-old who knows how to work a paper shredder.

One Sunday, his parents, Ben and Jackee Belnap, noticed an important envelope containing $1,060 was mysteriously missing. For the past year, the die-hard University of Utah football fans had been saving money to pay back Ben's parents for season tickets.

They started tearing the house apart searching for the cash. "I'm digging through the trash," Ben Belnap said, "and Jackee hollers, 'I found it.'" It was in the shredder. In a thousand tiny pieces. Immediately they knew Leo was the culprit. He had been helping her shred junk mail and documents. Apparently, he thought he was being helpful this time, too. First, his mother cried. Then, she laughed. She said, "As devastated and as sick as we were this was one of those moments where you just have to laugh."

Hope may not be lost for the couple. The Bureau of Engraving and Printing offers a solution. In fact, the bureau has an entire "Mutilated Currency Division," which is devoted to "redeeming" burned, rodent-chewed, or deteriorated money--a free service to the public. It handles approximately 30,000 claims per year, redeeming more than $30 million in mutilated cash. Ben Belnap contacted the Treasury Department and was told to send the remains of the money to Washington in Ziploc baggies.

In the meantime, Leo will not be using the shredder anymore. The silver lining: "Well, this will make a great wedding story one day."

Possible Preaching Angles: 1) Failure; Redemption; Renewal – No matter how we damage our lives, the Lord can make “all things new” when we come to him (2 Corinthians 5:17); 2) Mothers; Mother’s Day; Forgiveness; Patience – A wise mother will patiently endure and tenderly forgive the wrongs done by her children with “the teaching of kindness … on her tongue” (Proverbs 32:26).

Travis Collins writes in “What Does It Mean to Be Welcoming?”:

My friend Barry Thomas and I went camping at Sherando Lake a few summers ago. It had been raining, and more rain was forecast, but we thought we could beat the odds. After we set up our tents I was assigned the duty of gath­ering firewood. Unfortunately, everything was wet because of the rain. I gathered the driest wood I could find, but it wouldn't burn.

Barry was cooking dinner on the Coleman stove, but we wanted a campfire, so we decided I should drive about a mile back to the ranger shack to see if the rangers could point me to where I could buy firewood. On my way out of the campground I noticed another campsite from which campers had recently left and saw a hint of smoke rising from their campfire. "Well, that wood is dry,'' I said to myself. So I pulled in, grabbed a log by its cool end from the fire, and threw it into the back of my truck.

I drove the mile or so down to the ranger shack. When I stopped at the ranger shack I noticed an awful smell and saw smoke. "Oh, no!" I thought, "The ranger shack is on fire!" Then I looked into my rear view mirror ... and it wasn't the ranger shack on fire. It was the log in the back of my truck!

As I was driving, the wind had ignited the embers of that log, and it was burning, along with part of the lining of the bed of my pickup! I put the fire out quickly, but the melted rubber in the lining of that pickup truck is still visible—a reminder of a day when I saw smoke and flames and assumed someone else had a real problem—when, in fact, I had a problem.

Kris Lackey thought he had hurricane-proofed his manuscripts. An English professor at the University of New Orleans, he had saved his fiction and papers (including the novel he had half-finished) via hard drive, flash drive, and hard copy. But as the murky waters continued to rise and he was forced to evacuate his home, he left his papers and computer equipment behind. Even so, he left them in high places—tables and bookshelves well out of harm's way. He was, by no means, expecting the 11 feet of water that completely besieged his house during Hurricane Katrina.

Returning more than a month later, Lackey found pages floating in mud, completely indecipherable, as well as what was left of his flash and hard drives. Nothing was retrievable. Nothing.

"Crises of every kind will find us … [But] these crises enter our lives not just as challenges to us to retain our balance and stability, but as invitations to stretch our hearts and minds … [Every crisis] includes within [itself] an invitation for us to move from being good people to becoming great people."

— Ronald Rohlheiser

On Friday March 28, 1947, at 6:55 A.M., Bronx bus driver William Cimillo got into his bus to start his daily route. But then something happened. He decided to take a crazy leap. Fed up with New York traffic, Cimillo decided he'd had enough. Instead of sticking with his daily routine, he headed his bus south, going nowhere in particular. He stopped in New Jersey for a bite to eat, and parked in front of the White House and took a look around D.C.

Three days later, he was in Hollywood, Florida, where he stopped for a nighttime swim. Cimillo was totally free … and strapped for cash. He telegrammed his boss in New York, asking for $50, and that's when the cops showed up. Two New York detectives and a mechanic were sent to fetch the runaway driver and his bright red bus, but according to Cimillo, the mechanic couldn't really drive the bus, so they had Cimillo drive them back to New York. And when they arrived, William Cimillo discovered he'd become a legend. People across the country sent him fan mail, newspapers portrayed him as a working-class hero, and his bus-driving buddies raised enough cash to cover his legal expenses.

Realizing they were the bad guys here, the Surface Transportation System decided not to prosecute. In fact, they gave Cimillo his job back. For the rest of his life, Cimillo never pulled any more wild stunts. Instead, he kept on driving that bus for 16 more years before finally passing away in 1975. Those three crazy days in 1947 were more than enough adventure for William Cimillo. Asked why he did it, the busman would explain: "This New York traffic gets you. It's like driving in a squirrel cage." He was also quoted as saying that he just "wanted to get away from everything."

Possible Preaching Angles: New Year's Day; Problems; Pressure; Stress; Difficulties; Jobs—Do you ever feel like you the stress is too much and you just want to get away and start a fresh life somewhere else? There's a better way—trust the Lord, take a Sabbath, be faithful to your tasks, and so forth.