I have a Facebook friend who reads this blog. I spoke with him this morning and he asked me to clarify my reference to “The Cave of Wonder”. I recognize he might not be alone in his confusion so, albeit very personal, let me put the term into perspective.

My wife and I separated a year ago. Having no where else to go but my office, I converted part of the mail processing room (with folders, sealers, labeling machine, computers, filing cabinets, etc.) into a sanctuary. In a 10′ x 14′ room I have a 5′ x 8′ space from which I contemplate life. Since most of my business is conducted via e-mail and I rarely interact face-to-face with people on any given day, the room has become my hermit cave. But it’s not a hiding place. I don’t “hang out” there to escape people, life, or day-to-day events. My hermit cave isn’t really like the guy who has given up on life and people and wants to escape everything. My cave is more like a spiritual center of stillness and quiet from which I think thoughts and ponder.

It is not the “Cave of Wonders”, plural. There’s nothing “wonderful” about it. It does not contain collections of things I’ve saved, paintings of exotic landscapes or things that make you think, “that’s cool.” When I refer to the Cave of Wonder I don’t really mean a physical place. It’s like heaven. If someone asks you where heaven is, you more than likely will point up to the sky and say, “It’s up there, somewhere.” Yes, there are “the heavens” from a cosmological perspective, but there’s also a “heaven” from a theological viewpoint. The “Cave of Wonder” is my office area (particularly my sanctum sanctorum) but more specifically, it’s the state of mind I enter into at the end of the day.

If you know me, you know I’m well beyond a Type-A personality when it comes to certain things. With other things I flat-line, I don’t care. But I really do believe that you can’t judge a book by its cover. I might appear to be laid-back and easy-going, but don’t let it fool you. I might be having a full-on, total meltdown stress attack because I’m about to miss a deadline but you’d never know it. At the end of the first part of my work day, before I change gears for the evening shift, I wonder. When my day is done, before I go to sleep, I wonder. I wonder a lot. I wonder if I wonder too much.

I wonder why God put me here. No, not in my office but here, on earth. I know I have a mission. I know He put me here for a reason. I wonder what that reason is. One of the guys I meet with on Saturday mornings told our group today that I am a real inspiration for him. He knows my situation and what I’m going through. He recently lost his job and, as a consequence, his wife left him. He told the group as he goes about his daily life now he asks himself two questions: “What does the Bible say about how he should deal with a situation” and “How would {Sparky} deal with this”. I’m certain he meant that from his heart as a compliment, but that’s an awesome amount of responsibility I didn’t know I had in someone else’s life. I wonder, is this why God has me going through the problems in my marriage and my career? So that I might minister, mentor and inspire other men? I don’t know. Am I supposed to know? Do I want other men looking to me for inspiration when, in truth, they’re the ones I respect for their candidness and faithfulness?

I wonder if other men have the same issues I have. I want my children to see my true character. I hope when they look at me they see someone driven by honesty and integrity. I have been lied to, deceived by and forsaken by people very, very close to me. I want to break the cycle of “hurt people hurt people”. I have been hurt deeply more than once. I wonder if I have ever hurt anyone as badly as I have been hurt. If so, I sincerely apologize.

I honestly pray that when my kids look at me or think back to this period of time they can see my example. “When such-and-such happened to my dad, do you know what he did? He didn’t lie, he didn’t cheat, he didn’t steal, he didn’t deceive us. He didn’t dishonor my mother or me. He didn’t give anyone any reason to think he was doing something he shouldn’t have been doing. He held his head up and said that even though it sucked right now, it wouldn’t be like this forever. He had the courage to have faith.” That’s what I want my children to think on and realize that it isn’t really me that kept that standard. God gave me (all of us, actually) that standard as basic common sense. If a lie got you into trouble, a lie won’t get you out (the truth will set you free). If your spouse cheated on you, cheating on them doesn’t make it “even” (two wrongs don’t make a right). Me having a bad day doesn’t mean I should ruin your day (I can’t think of a cute quip to throw in here).

Jacob and Job are two Old Testament men from whom I draw a lot of inspiration. Both had issues. Depending on the situation I may feel more Jacob-like than Job-like. My rule of thumb is this: If something unexpectedly bad happens and nothing good comes from it in a short period of time, it’s a Job-like test of faith. If something good does come from it, it’s a Jacob-like reward of faith. Regardless, both are tests of integrity and accountability. I can cite two examples from the same event: A long-time customer of mine hired a new buyer. Since the new buyer had the authority and the responsibility to solicit and secure new contracts on behalf of the company, they used my products and pricing to leverage other companies and obtain better pricing from them. I was never given the opportunity to bid because, according to the buyer, it would not have been fair to ask others to bid against me and not award the contract to one of them. The issue wasn’t my quality, my turn-around, my customer service or my pricing. The issue was the buyer looking to make a name for himself within the company as an aggressive go-getter. That, to me, was a Job moment. By his own admission my company had done nothing wrong at all. We had better delivery times, higher quality and better pricing than the company that replaced us. But the bottom line was that we were replaced because we *could* be replaced. I let it go.

A year went by and the owner of that company called me. Very, very unhappy, he laid into me about how I had screwed up a job so bad recently they almost lost a licensing contract. I let him vent. When he was done, I politely asked him what the heck he was talking about since it had been over a year since I had done any work with his company. Very long story short, not only did we once again take over the work we had been doing previously, I also became more integrated in that company’s production planning process in all aspects, from design to overseas production to local assembly and fulfillment. The buyer was fired. This was a Jacob moment. Rather than throw it back in my old customer’s face and tell him to pound sand, I worked with him on how to fix a problem that was never mine, how to prevent future issues related to that event and how to address and preempt long-term problems from overseas factories. I went from nothing to being a de facto production manager in the course of one phone call. Totally Jacob-like, totally God. So it makes me wonder.

I wonder if things had not occurred as they did between my wife and me if any of this would have happened. My wife and I attended the same church for twelve or thirteen years before I was asked to move out. Had I stayed, I probably would not have been as involved with the guys on Saturday morning as I am currently. Am I really an inspiration for other people? Why would you lie about something as trivial as that? We’re a Saturday morning men-only Bible study group. No one there has a “posse”. We don’t have “people”. You don’t come with an “entourage”. We are very sensitive to cults of personality and don’t claim any one member of our congregation, our senior pastor included, has any more or less authority or divine appointment from, to, or by God than anyone else.

I was honored and humbled when someone asked me to be their accountability partner while they struggle with an addiction. I tried to turn him to someone who either has the same issues or experience with the same issues and he wouldn’t have it. He only wanted me because he felt God had sent me to him. This has been a two-way blessing. All I have to do is be me. Since I can’t be him that’s easy enough, but I do need to be sensitive to his struggles. According to him, I have helped him in more ways than he can count. Not too long ago he asked what kinds of hobbies I had when I was a kid. I told him. A week later he asked if I knew where he might find a hobby store. I told him. The next week he came to me and said he had a new hobby building and painting scale model die-cast metal cars (which, by the way, is not something I did so I’m not worried he’s becoming a Mini-Me).

I saw him today and he said the relationship between him and his wife was much, much better than it had been in years, all because of the model building. Because it’s something they can do together, his wife helps him. Because she’s with him and they’re working on projects together, they talk more. Because they’re talking more he doesn’t have the time or the desire to fall back into his addiction. Because he knows he’s an addict and he knows I care and he knows I’d answer the phone if he called, he feels strong enough to make it on his own. What did I do? Nothing. It was all God. But I wonder: Is that why I’m here?

I wonder if I’m a conceited, pompous ass. I know I’m no better than anyone else. I don’t think I have a false sense of humility. If you invite me to your house for dinner, I’ll do the dishes. I’ll clean your oven if you’d like. I don’t do it because it makes me look good. I don’t do it because I’m a kiss-ass. I do it because I can and it’s helpful. If you’ve been working to make a meal for us to enjoy and to make me feel welcome and all those other warm and fuzzy feelings, let me return the favor. If I can’t pay you for the time and money you’ve invested in the meal, let’s turn it into something more than just a host/guest scenario. Let me do something for you so that we have a shared experience of sacrifice (yours in making the meal and mine in cleaning all that crap out of the oven you’ve left there for the past two years). It really doesn’t bother me, don’t let it bother you.

I wonder how long I’ll walk in the dark valley before me. I work community outreach programs a couple of times a month. I talk to homeless people and give thanks that I have a roof over my head. I have a car. I can cook up a mean batch of rice whenever I want. But there are a couple of homeless couples I actually envy. These people have nothing except what they can fit in the two or three shopping carts they’ve roped together. They truly have next to nothing. But they have each other. One of the couples said they were married in a homeless camp by the minister of a church that did a feed-the-homeless program. The church members paid for the license, the ceremony and the food. They wanted to have the ceremony at the church but the couple wanted to do it at the camp so their friends could be there. It’s awesome. They are not the freeway off-ramp “will work for food” homeless. They are much worse off. But when you look at them and how they interact with each other, you know it’s love. I look at them in wonder: When this test is over, will my wife and I be able to have the same sparkle in our eyes? I wonder.

I wonder about all kinds of things. How my kids are doing, where I’ll be living in the next month or two, whether or not the decision I made today about something will help or hurt someone who might look up to me. But I don’t dwell on it. I don’t want to sound Yoda-ish, but dwelling on the negative leads to questioning yourself which leads to questioning your faith which leads to fear which leads to hate. When I think about the negative things happening in my life right now I just chalk it up to a temporary setback and keep moving. That’s really all you can do. I guess I could start drinking to escape reality or start smoking as a “stress relief” and blame someone for giving me the stress in the first place, but the reality is it’s on me. Run and hide or stand and fight. Sometimes I know it’s easier to run and hide, but then I wonder: Is that the example I want to set for my wife and kids? No. I wonder if I’m cut-out to be an example for other men. After all, their problems are their problems, right? Wrong. Am I my brother’s keeper? Yes, to a certain extent, I am. But I wonder if they’ll see it’s not by me alone that I choose to help but by God’s greater design.

And so you have it: The Cave of Wonder is singular, not plural. It is both a physical place and a mindset. As it has been for the past year and will be for the foreseeable future, it’s also my home. Welcome to it.