Pastor Steve McLean greets Lulu, Fanny, Jeannette and Jesus, and they seem quite attentive,
perhaps because of his charisma. Or maybe the cookies.

May 29, 2008 – My friend and pastor Steve McLean came by to visit yesterday en route to a nearby lunch with other pastors. I was happy to see him. I often quote Emerson’s idea that friendship is the one true miracle of nature, and even though it doesn’t always work out the way we hope, it is no less special for that, and one of the many gifts of my life on the farm has been my friendship with Steve, a relationship that has enriched me considerably.
  I turned to him some months ago for help in developing my spiritual life, and I have certainly gotten that, but beyond that, has been the evolution of a friendship.  We started talking in his office in the church in Argyle, N.Y., and our meetings and conversations have ranged beyond that, from baptisms to funerals to visits to his Church to lunch to yaks in his backyard, and mine.
  As we sat on the porch today, drinking coffee, I felt an understanding and trust between us that happens rarely in my life, and often spells a true and lasting friendship. Steve is the real thing, that rare thing, a genuine person who is living his life with courage and conviction. And faith.
  After we talked,  Steve came out to see Rose herd the sheep and meet the donkeys and Elvis, and although Steve has seen almost everything, his eyes did widen at the sight of Elvis, resting in the shade and taking in the view. I could hear him thinking that that was a lot of beef.
  We talked about my evolving feeling that I had considerable work to do on myself before I could have the spiritual life I want and need. Steve was understanding and perceptive, as he always is. He said he completely understood how I felt and supported my instincts. He talked about his notion of an “Integrated Man,” and I loved this idea, of a human who doesn’t simply pursue one thing, one track, but is connected to the world, and does the work he needs to do, in the way he needs to do it. In my mind, truly religious people are viscerally tolerant  and non-judgmental, and in that way, show the power of light and love.
  That is Steve.
  When I wrote earlier this week that I wasn’t certain God was whispering to me, and didn’t want to use the idea of God as a crutch, and hide there without doing the work on myself I needed to do, a number of people wrote the first angry e-mails I’ve received from this blog, although certainly not the first I’ve gotten from my books or off of the Internet.
  I am not delicate about that, and it comes with the territory, and I get lots of nice e-mail and praise. But I was surprised.
  One person suggested I was losing my way, and that I owed her and others an apology.  She said she was sure that Steve and I were no longer in touch. A number of other people wrote in concern, saying they were worried about me, and asking me if I was still talking to Steve, as if we must have feuded or fallen out in some way.
  How curious to get these messages, I thought. For one thing, they don’t know Steve. It never occurred to me that he would be angry with me for anything I believe, (although I did get a scolding for saying “goddamn” today, and promised to be more careful about that.) Steve was not angry with me. He understands this is a complex process, for me and others, and a difficult one. It is not something that is accomplished in two or three talks, not something that is easy or ought to be.
   Steve is firm in his belief, and has no need to pressure anyone to conform, although his spirit is a powerful advertisement for God.
  I also am beginning understood why the word “journey” bugs me, and why I have forsaken using it in my writing. Lots of people like to use the term “journey,” but they often confuse the idea  of a journey with that of a destination.
  The dictionary says that a “journey”  is the act of traveling from one place to another. It doesn’ t mean that one has arrived. For me, spirituality is a true journey,  an organic, evolving, dynamic process that never ends, whether it is in the context of God and religion, or painting or wandering in the woods and taking photos of dandelions. And it is important to me, a vital dimension of life beyond work, money, struggle and stress that offers peace and understanding, and a comfort with self. It is fundamental, in my mind, to living one’s life.
 I am on a journey. I have not landed.  I very much liked Steve’s notion that people need, as I feel I do, to work on themselves and not expect an idea of God to do this work for them, or take care of all their troubles. Whatever happens to me, I told him, I am responsible for myself.
   Fine, he said. But it might be helpful, he added, to turn the fear over to God, to let that be his work.   
  Now that would be helpful.
   So, as much as I dislike the term journey, I am on one. And I will keep going. I don’t see why anybody would worry about that, rather than celebrate the notion of honest seeking. I am not inclined to apologize for it, for sure.
  If God is out there, and he is whispering to me, he will make himself clear enough. In the meantime, I am listening. And very fortunate to have a friend like Steve to help me. Surely, there is a message in that.