Four Little Words

two scenes from two sitcoms = unexpected wisdom

And so the week begins with a school shooting—an all-too-common occurrence—and ends with the indictment of a former president on criminal charges—a brand-spanking-new occurrence. What a world. What then are we to say about these things?

I recently offered some thoughts on loss, inspired by the TV series Shrinking, which is way more hilarious than a show about grief has any right to be. And many of you know I’m deep in the Ted Lasso fandom, a joyful obsession a number of you share. 

I keep thinking about two scenes, each of which hinges on a simple but profound two-word phrase.

Yes, that’s Harrison Ford, in his finest performance in years.

The first is from Shrinking, in which an older therapist named Paul is talking with 17 year old Alice, whose mother died in a car accident. Alice is talking about her peers, who seem so silly and untroubled:

Alice: They just all act so immature.

Paul: Well they are immature, they’re teenagers. They haven’t been through what you’ve been through.

Alice: Well then they’re lucky.

Paul: For now. 

The second is from Ted Lasso. I’m paraphrasing, but a character expresses regret that he let go of something that he could have lingered with and enjoyed, because he knew sticking around meant the potential for heartbreak. He says, I guess I’m not the kind of person who would take that risk.

Ted answers, “Not yet.” 

For now. 
Not yet.

We church folk like to talk about the “already and not yet” of the gospel: the idea that Jesus came to herald the reign of God, a way of being with one another that’s infused with belovedness. We can embrace that way of being right now, already… even as we watch and wait for the arc of the universe to bend, not just toward justice but toward shalom as well: not yet.

I’ve loved the already and not yet. I’ve preached the already and not yet.

But when the world seems terribly broken, there might not be enough already for us to hold on to. Which is why I’m intrigued by the combination of for now and not yet. 

For now is wonderfully and frightfully impermanent. If life is unbearable, hold on as long as you can, because things can change. If life is blissful right this minute, embrace it with gratitude, but do so gently, prepared to open your arms as it wriggles from your grasp. We’ve had both of those extremes lately, here at ground zero of the teen mental health crisis. What’s gotten me through on a practical level is living for now, one day at a time, and letting the larger narrative take care of itself.

But as much as I love one day at a time as a coping strategy—the “next right thing” is very improvisational—I realized this week that if I’m not careful, I will keep my attention so rooted in today that I’m not even open to the possibility that things will get better. 

Not yet helps with that. My therapist likes to remind me that the future is an idea, nothing more. Sometimes I’m tempted to ignore the messy present and live in the future, but an idea is not a very sturdy place to take up residence. In times of despair I want to ignore the future altogether, because how could it be anything but an endless stretch of horribly shattered todays? Not yet invites me to be open to the possibility of healing, even wholeness. Maybe the people I care about need that from me. Maybe I need that from myself.

So. This week’s events. 

Even if the dysfunction in our power structures magically dissolved so we could pass the common sense reforms that a majority of Americans want in poll after poll—if we could actually be a representative democracy, in other words—we still have almost 450 million guns in this country. (I’m also one of those “it’s complicated” gun-safety advocates who believes that gun legislation is necessary but not nearly adequate.)

As for the indictment of the former president, some of us celebrate the apparently radical idea that nobody is above the law. But any relief we might feel is tempered by the awareness that a not-miniscule part of the population will never see this as anything but a sham and a witch hunt.

It seems intractable. 

For now. 

But not yet gives us something to work with. I have a friend who’s an elementary school teacher turned principal. His school banished the phrase “I can’t do that” in favor of “I haven’t learned how to do that yet.” Not yet is growth mindset in a two-word package. 

The cynics love to note that not yet never fully arrives. They smirk at us as easily as they do at the doomsayers who predict the end of the world on a certain date, only to see the calendar flip to the next page. But if the future is nothing but an idea, the least we can do is make it a useful one. With the proper self-care and the right perspective, not yet is an endlessly renewable resource, a light that never goes out.

Steady on.

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What I’m Up To

I’ll be offering the messageat Trinity Presbyterian Church in Herndon on Sunday at 10:15 a.m. EDT, in person or on livestream.

Upcoming posts for paid subscribers in April: a deep dive on toxic positivity, and by request, some thoughts on Artificial Intelligence and particularly ChatGPT. Yearly subscriptions are 10% off through April! Friday posts are free and always will be; members and friends of Trinity Presbyterian are eligible for complimentary subscriptions upon request.

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Link Love

Have you read Hope: A User’s Manual? I would treasure an honest review on Amazon–even months after publication, reviews help readers find the book. Here’s the link to do so! Thank you.