These 25 brief, thoughtful meditations by Paul Escamilla are organized in five topics: The Good Book, The Good Life, the Good Work, The Good Society, and The Good Earth. Whether read privately or with a group, these probing essays invite rather than indict the reader - making the "life of enough" seem not only possible but a natural next step in our lives as Christians. A gifted writer, Escamilla leads the reader to anticipate both physical and spiritual relief from saturation and excess. Together the author and the reader search for the secret of escaping the lifestyle and attitudes of "a weighed-down world." A study guide includes questions for reflection or discussion.An excerpt from the Circuit Rider review: "This is a helpful little book. Clergy and laity will find in it much to consider. In a highly consumerist culture, there is a great deal to examine as persons ask questions about what constitutes having 'enough': How much is enough? How do we find rest and peace for anxious hearts? How do we discover a depth of being in a society always bent on 'doing' and 'having' more? For persons who are searching and exploring what the next step in the journey of faith is, this book will provide an instructive pathway to growth by someone who has also "been there and done that." And what they will receive is not an indicting finger but a gentle and persuasive hand." (Click here to read the entire review.) Paul L. Escamilla is pastor of Spring Valley United Methodist Church in Dallas, Texas. Paul L. Escamilla is an elder in the Río Texas Conference serving as senior pastor of Laurel Heights UMC in San Antonio. Longing for enough in a culture of more By Paul L. Escamilla Abingdon Press Copyright © 2007 Abingdon Press All rights reserved. ISBN: 978-0-687-46651-1 Contents Acknowledgments, Introduction, Part One The Good Book, Chapter 1 The Modesty of God, Chapter 2 Paradise in the Balance, Chapter 3 What We Need Is Here, Chapter 4 The Future of an Illusion, Chapter 5 Weaning the Soul, Chapter 6 Risking Reverence, Part Two The Good Life, Chapter 7 Longing for Enough, Chapter 8 Temples Well-aging, Chapter 9 Holding Lightly, Chapter 10 Regardingords, Chapter 11 The Courage to Say No, Part Three The Good Work, Chapter 12 Usefulness, Chapter 13 Purpose, Chapter 14 Trannscendence, Chapter 15 Rest, Chapter 16 Play, Part Four The Good Society, Chapter 17 A Good Word for Navel-gazing, Chapter 18 Retying the Lace, Chapter 19 The Mean of Grace, Chapter 20 Greatness in a Shrub, Chapter 21 The Whole World Home, Part Five The Good Earth, Chapter 22 Earth's Possession, Chapter 23 Following Seasons, Chapter 24 Small Marble, Chapter 25 The City and the Garden, Epilogue: Grace Dancing, CHAPTER 1 The Modesty of God And God saw that it was good. Genesis 1:10b Don't you find it curious that in the entire creation account in the book of Genesis there's not a single exclamation point? No "Heavens to Betsy!" No "Have a look at this!" Not even a "Glory be!" It goes without saying that the creation account is a story of epic size and scope, drama and dimension, in which light is wrested from darkness, the sun and moon hurled into their everlasting orbits, living things brought forth from earth and sea at the very mention of their names, the great waters shoved back from the land and held spellbound, and, of course, the human creature drafted and crafted from God's very image, mere mud being the medium. Yet in all of this astonishing activity not a syllable of superlative language makes it onto the page. The closest these accounts in Genesis come to exclamatory speech is—are you ready?—"And God saw that it was good." That's it. Once, in what we can only imagine was a flourish of unchecked enthusiasm, the narrative gives us slightly more: God saw everything that God had made, "and indeed, it was very good" (Genesis 1:31, even the emphasis is mine). We're talking about the making of the universe here, the very origination of who we and the world are, the biggest event history has ever been privy to, and the best God can do is "good" and "very good"? This we could call understatement of divine proportions. I'm sure you can think of a moment in the creation event you believe might have called for at least a little hoopla, a place where the powers that be might have placed an exclamation point or two—a "totally awesome!" or an "utterly amazing!"— without being accused of getting carried away. What would be your choice? Making the light? Suspending the sun? Fashioning the human creature? Any of these could easily qualify as marquee material. What we get instead is plain print on pastel parchment, posted not under the lights but on the shelf, all matter and no mirth. Maybe the scribe was low on ink, rationing it for essentials, or reserving exclamatory speech for the possibility of something really big happening later. Perhaps the story had been handled so many countless ti